Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 969 - 224.2 - Illusions and Hammer

Every step was a suggestion.

Every gesture a manipulation.

And the best part?

He was still holding back.

Lucas circled again, testing Carl's shoulders. Watching where he shifted weight. He was close to identifying Carl's anchor point-the micro-habit he used to start most of his movements. Once he had that...

'One more exchange!

He blurred again-this time, less stealth, more agression.

CLANG. CLANG. SWOOSH.

Visit frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓ for the b𝘦st novel reading experience.

Lucas's blade moved like a ribbon of silver, sharp and flowing.

Carl blocked one strike. Dodged another. Then retaliated.

BOOM.

The hammer struck down again-intended to cage Lucas in. Lucas ducked low, spun sideways, and slid to Carl's back.

[Phantom Reflection - Third Layer]

He didn't strike.

He whispered.

"Behind you."

Carl didn't turn. Didn't react.

Smart.

Instead-

THUMP.

He slammed his shield behind him blindly.

A direct counter to Lucas's bait.

Lucas grinned, retreating just in time as the heavy metal whooshed past his nose. 'Clever boy!

He came to a stop, exhaled, and lowered his blade.

Then, Lucas straightened slowly, exhaling through his nose. The blade in his hand caught the light-angled just slightly, the flat tilting off to the side. A posture so familiar it was second nature.

The Middleton Sword Style.

He didn't need to speak. The stance said enough.

No more tests. No more simulations.

Now he would simply fight.

The sword in his hand lowered into a loose, flowing grip. His feet realigned, subtle and precise. Shoulders eased. Breath leveled. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. But the shift in aura was unmistakable.

He had stopped studying.

He was ready to play.

From the corner of his eye, he caught it.

Astron.

Standing near the edge of the platform, half-shrouded by the shadows, but watching. As he always did. Calculating. Absorbing.

Lucas's eyes narrowed just slightly.

'Indeed... with him being a possible diversion, I can't reveal too much!

Not yet.

That one-Astron-was too perceptive. Too sharp around the edges. Lucas couldn't afford to overplay his hand here, especially not with them watching from the background. Especially not when the game was far more layered than this platform. So he adjusted his output.

The illusions faded-not entirely, but just enough to blend into his rhythm. No more artificial doubles. No more external flickers. Just slight afterimages. Blade trails. Tempo breaks.

Just enough to keep you guessing.

Carl stepped forward then, slow and grounded. He lifted his shield fully and twisted his grip on the hammer, and as he did, the air around him began to hum.

THRRRMMM.

Stone resonated beneath him. The platform trembled softly as the mana flared-low,

dense, earthen.

And then came the stance.

The Braveheart family's signature:

Fortress Form

Shield at center. Hammer poised above the shoulder. Knees bent to absorb impact. Every inch of Carl's form spoke of resistance, not just to force-but to deception. He wasn't fast, but he was rooted. Immovable.

Lucas smiled.

'So be it'

He moved.

CLANG. CLANG. SWOOSH.

The duel began again-not as a test, but as a clash of legacies.

Lucas struck with Middleton's 2nd form: Weaving Mirage

His steps were intricate, forming half-circles that danced around Carl's shield. He angled his sword in seemingly impossible arcs, flicking and rebounding from multiple

vectors.

Carl held firm.

BOOM.

Hammer swept down in a brutal arc-Lucas twisted inside the swing, sliding under the arm, blade tracing along the edge of Carl's shield.

CLANK!

The sound rang out like a bell. Carl turned, catching Lucas's retreating shoulder with

the rim of the shield.

THUD.

Lucas stumbled back a step. Not damaged. But pushed. The strength behind Carl's

shield strikes was a threat in itself.

He didn't retreat.

Instead, he responded. Middleton Sword - 4th Form: Phantom Step]

His body blurred-momentarily seeming to vanish. When he reappeared, it wasn't behind or to the side-but midair, flipping past Carl's shield, blade whistling

downward.

SLASH-CRACK!

Carl blocked it with the top edge of the shield. The force jolted his boots into the stone

-but he stayed grounded.

Lucas landed and swept low.

SWISH.

Carl raised his leg just in time-Lucas's blade only slicing cloth.

'Still too solid...'

Carl retaliated with a surge of mana.

[Braveheart Art: Stone Rebound]

He slammed his shield down into the stone.

BOOM-RUMBLE-BOOM!

A ripple burst from the impact point-echoing out in a half-circle wave that bounced

off the arena's edges and came hurtling back like a shockwave.

Lucas's eyes widened-

And smiled.

He stepped into it.

WHOOSH.

He cut through the first wave of pressure, using the force as momentum.

And then-

Middleton - 5th Form: Flickering Spiraly

His body twisted, blade spinning like a cyclone in tight motion, drilling past Carl's

shield from a diagonal vector. It wasn't meant to hit-it was meant to distract.

Carl blocked high.

And in that heartbeat-

Lucas let go of his sword with one hand.

SWOOSH.

A flicker of mana.

A single illusion.

A split-second delay-an afterimage from the same angle of his previous strike.

Carl's eyes tracked it.

And in that split moment-

Lucas's real blade shot under the shield from below, dragging the flat of it just past

Carl's thigh guard.

CLANG!

A hit.

Not deep. Not decisive.

But a mark.

You fell for it again!

Carl's head tilted. Just slightly. Just enough to acknowledge it.

Then-

BOOM.

Hammer strike from above.

Lucas blocked.

CRACK.

The impact echoed through his arms. His knees buckled slightly under the sheer

weight of it. Carl's strength wasn't exaggerated-he fought like a landslide. And if you

stopped moving, he'd bury you.

But Lucas wasn't built to stop.

STEP. SWOOSH. SLIDE.

He circled again. This time, his movements less illusion, more tempo. Rhythm shifting

unpredictably. Sometimes slow. Sometimes fast. Middleton Form 6: Ghost Edges

It wasn't about raw speed. It was about tempo violation.

And Carl-despite his strong foundation-relied on rhythm to react.

Lucas cut once, twice-then paused.

Just long enough to confuse Carl's swing.

Then struck again.

SLASH-THUMP-SHIELD! Blocked. Again.

But now Carl's breathing was heavier. His posture more tense.

The rhythm had broken.

'Got you.'

Lucas flipped the blade in his grip-gripping it reverse for a moment.

Then-

WHOOSH.

His mana surged-not for illusion, but for reinforcement.

His real strike came through. SLASH!

Carl's shield jerked sideways.

THUD!

The edge of Lucas's blade pressed against Carl's hammer wrist-forcing it away from a

follow-up.

Then the flat of the blade slammed against Carl's side.

CLANK-BOOM!

Carl skidded back three steps-his boots scraping the stone.

The platform stilled.

Lucas stood upright once again, exhaling.

Not smiling.

Just... centered.

Carl straightened slowly. Rolled his shoulder.

And gave a single nod. Respect.

That was all.

But for a Braveheart, that meant everything.

Lucas lowered his blade, returning to neutral stance.

He had made his point.

He hadn't gone all out.

He hadn't needed to. But Middleton style had spoken.

And Braveheart had answered.