Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Each step took us closer to the heart of the enemy's operation, and with every turn, I could feel the malevolent energy intensifying.

We encountered more resistance along the way—more masked figures, more monsters lurking in the shadows. But they were no match for us.

The first group we encountered barely had time to react. A group of three masked men appeared from a side passage, their auras sharp with intent. But before they could even draw their weapons, I was already moving.

I activated [Shadowborne], merging with the darkness around us, becoming a flicker of movement they couldn't track. My daggers flashed, slicing through the air with lethal precision.

The first man fell before he even knew I was there, a clean cut across his throat silencing him instantly. The second tried to turn, but I was already behind him, my blade plunging into his back, severing his spine. The third barely had time to register the deaths of his comrades before my dagger found his heart.

Three bodies hit the ground in the span of a few breaths, their lifeless forms crumpling silently to the floor. I didn't even break stride, continuing forward as if nothing had happened. Shanks followed closely behind, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp with approval.

We pressed on, the corridor narrowing as we approached our destination. The next group of enemies was more prepared, their stances indicating they were expecting trouble. There were five of them, positioned strategically to block our advance.

But strategy meant nothing when faced with overwhelming speed and precision. I launched myself forward, closing the distance between us in an instant. My movements were a blur, my daggers slicing through the air with deadly accuracy.

"You don't leave anything to chance," he remarked quietly as we moved on.

Leaving things to chance. I had long learned my lesson.

We continued down the corridor, the air growing colder and more oppressive with each step. The symbols on the walls grew more intricate, their faint glow casting eerie shadows on the floor.

Finally, after a while, we reached a massive iron door at the end of the corridor. It was old and heavily reinforced, the surface covered in writings that pulsed with dark energy.

It seemed even Shanks could sense it as his breathing changed a little.

"This is it," Shanks said, his voice low. "The heart of their operation lies beyond this door."

I nodded, my eyes narrowing as I focused on the door. The energy emanating from it was strong, almost overwhelming, but I could sense something beyond it—a presence.

'My eyes are not working.'

The raw mana across the place was overwhelming, and the level seemed to be higher than mine. That was something that could happen if the enemy was stronger, and from how things looked, it was indeed the case.

"The enemy is as strong as we have expected," Shanks said as he looked at me. "From now on, I am going to take over."

Though the strength of the enemy was already within the expectations, considering the fact that there have been many events like this happening before, I could infer to some extent.

If I were to come here alone and go in all by myself, things would get tricky as I would need to use everything.

"Understood."

But would I lose?

I guess we will never know about that, as Shanks stepped forward while I retreated back, blending into shadows once again.

*********

After Astron blended into shadows, Shanks showed no hesitation. He reached for the handles, his grip firm as he prepared to confront whatever lay beyond.

With a decisive motion, Shanks pulled the door open. Instantly, an immense amount of energy surged from within, a gust of wind rushing out to meet him.

The stench of blood followed, thick and nauseating, filling the air with a palpable sense of dread. The room beyond was shrouded in darkness, but the faint glint of liquid on the floor hinted at the horrors within.

'Tch.' Shanks grimaced as the foul odor hit his face, the coppery tang of blood overwhelming his senses.

'Blood….Bastards….' He knew he couldn't afford to waste even a second. His instincts sharpened, and he immediately scanned the room, his eyes locking onto a figure standing within a circle of intricate engravings.

The figure was bathed in an eerie glow, their presence exuding an aura of malevolence.

SWOOSH! Shanks didn't hesitate. His saber was drawn in a flash, the blade gleaming as he dashed toward the target with deadly precision.

The figure moved just as swiftly, sensing the attack before it even arrived.

In one fluid motion, they deflected Shanks' strike with a skillful parry, their own weapon appearing almost out of thin air.

CLANK!

The clash of steel echoed through the chamber, the force of the impact sending sparks flying.

'Hmm….Around peak rank 6 or maybe rank 7.' Shanks didn't falter. His years of experience and combat training kicked in as he adjusted his stance, readying himself for the next exchange. The figure before him was no ordinary foe—they were fast, precise, and powerful.

The two combatants circled each other, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Shanks' eyes narrowed as he assessed his opponent.

The engravings on the floor, the dark energy in the air, and the overpowering scent of blood all pointed to a ritual.

With a grunt of effort, Shanks launched a series of rapid strikes, his saber slicing through the air with deadly intent.

But the figure met each attack with calculated precision, their movements almost preternatural. It was clear that they were not only skilled but also had the advantage of the ritual's dark power bolstering their strength.

'But this place….It is indeed suffocating. Most likely, it stems from this energy. I feel weaker, and he is getting stronger.' Shanks understood the situation well. The enemy was drawing power from the ritual, growing stronger as the dark energy permeated the room.

But Shanks was no novice; he was a peak rank-8 Awakened, and even with the oppressive energy in the chamber, he knew he had the upper hand in raw power and skill.

As Shanks prepared for the next move, the enemy spoke in a hoarse, gravelly voice, "Who are you? How did you find this place?"

The question hung in the air, but Shanks had no intention of answering. There was no point in engaging in conversation with a foe who was clearly beyond redemption.

He had seen enough to know that whatever ritual was taking place here needed to be stopped.

'If I knew they were this weak, I would not even have come here. Just Jim would be enough.' Channeling his energy into his blade, Shanks felt the familiar surge of power as his mana flowed through him, enhancing his strength and speed. The energy crackled along the edge of his saber, the blade now glowing with a fierce light.

Without a word, Shanks dashed forward, his movements a blur as he closed the distance in an instant. The enemy might have been growing stronger thanks to the energy in the chamber, but Shanks was still far more powerful.

The figure barely had time to react before Shanks' blade flashed through the air. The enemy attempted to parry, but the speed and precision of Shanks' strike were overwhelming.

SHING!

In a heartbeat, the enemy's arm—still clutching the sword—was severed cleanly at the shoulder. The limb fell to the ground with a heavy thud, blood spurting from the wound. The crimson spray confirmed what Shanks had suspected—the enemy was human, at least in body.

The figure let out a howl of pain, staggering back as they clutched the bleeding stump where their arm had been. The dark energy around them seemed to flicker and wane as if momentarily disrupted by the sudden loss.

Shanks didn't let up. He pressed the advantage, his saber poised for another strike. The enemy, now severely weakened, was at his mercy. But Shanks knew better than to underestimate a cornered opponent, especially one who had dabbled in such dark rituals.

The figure glared at Shanks, hatred burning in their eyes. "You… you'll pay for this," they hissed, their voice dripping with malice.

And truly, as he had expected, the enemy's body suddenly turned dark.

SWOOSH! The entire room was suddenly engulfed in thick, choking smoke. The darkness was so dense it felt almost tangible, pressing down on Shanks like a suffocating blanket. His senses were immediately dulled, his vision obscured to near blindness. The acrid scent of the smoke filled his lungs, and he could feel a disorienting pressure in his ears.

But Shanks was no stranger to such tactics. He sharpened his focus, relying on his instincts and training to cut through the sensory overload. Despite the suppression, he could still sense the shifts in the air, the subtle disturbances that signaled approaching danger.

In an instant, he realized that the figure had summoned others—shadows or thralls, likely drawn from the surrounding dark energy. They weren't as powerful as the main target, but they were still a threat, especially in this disorienting smoke.

'Enemies. Around low rank-6, no maybe just even rank-5.' He could feel the first attack coming from his left, a sharp displacement of air as a blade cut toward him. At the same time, two more strikes were aimed at him from the front and right.

Shanks didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he sidestepped the first attack, his saber slashing through the air with deadly precision.

CLANG!

The first enemy's weapon was knocked aside, and Shanks pivoted on his heel, driving his blade into the second assailant with a quick, lethal thrust. He didn't stop, his movements fluid and efficient as he turned to meet the third attacker, disarming them with a flick of his wrist before delivering a final, decisive strike.

It took only six moves for Shanks to dispatch all three of them, their bodies falling lifelessly to the ground. The smoke still hung thick in the air, but Shanks wasted no time. He reached into his spatial ring, retrieving a small gadget—a cylindrical device designed for situations exactly like this.

With a press of a button, the device hummed to life, emitting a soft, pulsing light. The smoke around him began to swirl and then was rapidly sucked into the device, clearing the air in a matter of seconds.

As the smoke dissipated, Shanks scanned the room, his eyes quickly finding something that he did not expect.

There, not far from him, was Astron, locked in combat with the figure. The dark energy still clung to the enemy, but Shanks could see that they were struggling.

The loss of their arm—the one that would normally hold their blade—was evident in the way they fought. They were still powerful, stronger than Astron in terms of raw strength, but their movements were off balance, their attacks lacking the precision they might have otherwise had.

Astron, for his part….

He was moving without wasting even a bit of movement.

'Indeed. The kid has the combat ability to confront at least a peak rank 6.' Shanks was impressed.

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