Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 1070

Astron didn't need to look to know she'd been there.

The moment the connection terminated and silence fell back into the room, he had felt the faint shift in mana—barely a ripple, a breath of attention caught between the hall and the kitchen's edge.

But only now did he turn.

Irina stood by the doorway, her silhouette framed by the soft morning mana-light bleeding in through the filtered windows. She had a blanket loosely gathered around her arms, but her posture was straight. Awake. Observant.

Her amber eyes were already locked on him. Watching. Measuring.

"You had a call?" she asked.

Her voice was quiet. Not suspicious. Not sharp. But... steady. Intent.

"Yes," Astron replied simply, his tone unchanged.

There was no need to explain what kind of call. No need to fill the space with extra words. She wasn't asking for details yet. She didn't have to.

Not with that look.

Her eyes didn't soften. If anything, they sharpened slightly.

And then the real question came.

"You'll leave soon?"

Astron didn't answer right away.

His gaze drifted slightly—not to avoid the question, but to acknowledge what he could and couldn't say. The field surrounding the projection had been deliberate. A zone-filtered buffer, constructed with Organization-level encryption woven into a temporary glyph array. No echoes. No bleed. No chance for even her senses to breach it.

He trusted Irina.

But that didn't mean he could let her hear that conversation.

And judging by the way she was looking at him now—head tilted just slightly, brow furrowed in that familiar way—she already knew what her ears hadn't caught.

He nodded once.

"Yes," he said finally. "I'll be leaving tonight."

Irina didn't move. She didn't sigh. Didn't scowl or ask what for.

But her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket a little tighter.

"You're being sent out," she said.

It wasn't phrased like a question.

Astron didn't deny it.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and then she looked past him—toward the place the projection had been just moments ago.

*****

The blanket slipped off her shoulder as Irina sat up slowly, blinking at the faint wash of daylight filtering through the curtains. Her body felt warm, slightly heavy, and when her eyes drifted to the side of the room—empty—she exhaled through her nose.

She'd fallen asleep.

A glance at the digital clock confirmed it: late morning, edging toward noon. Which meant she'd definitely passed out without realizing it. Tch… she rubbed the side of her head, strands of loose hair falling across her cheek. Last night had bled long into early hours. Not because of anything important. Just a game. A stupid match where the enemy mid refused to rotate and her carry refused to shut up.

She hadn't been able to sleep.

And apparently, it had finally caught up to her.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

She stood, stretching once, then moved through the short hallway barefoot—her senses slowly extending. Mana feelers brushed softly across the corners of the walls, windows, kitchen wards… and then caught something.

A presence.

Astron's.

She followed the faint trace—subtle, tight, almost absent if she hadn't been looking specifically. But the moment she rounded the corner, the air shimmered.

A barrier.

Irina stopped.

It wasn't loud or obvious. Just a thin shell of interwoven glyphs, the kind that wasn't meant to block force—but sound. A zone-filter, the kind used by instructors and hunters who didn't want a single whisper escaping past the radius. She couldn't hear anything. Couldn't see who was on the other end of the projection.

Her lips pressed into a line.

She wasn't the type to eavesdrop. Not on him. Not when it was like this. Still… her fingers twitched slightly.

Astron blinked once. Slowly.

She glanced over her shoulder, the corner of her lips twitching. "Don't give me that look."

"I wasn't giving a look."

"You were." She stepped toward the console shelf, nudging a spare controller with her toe. "It would've been fun."

Irina let the words sit in the room for a second, her toe still lightly tapping the controller as if the sound might coax him into staying just a little longer.

"Duoing," she muttered, almost to herself. "It's been a while."

Her voice lowered, softened—not melancholic, but laced with that rare tint of vulnerability she rarely let show. "I wanted to see how much you've improved."

Astron didn't move, but his response came quietly. Steady.

"Then I'll try to come back early."

That made her pause.

She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at him, brows arching—not sharply, but with faint surprise. "You'll try to come back early?"

Astron met her gaze evenly, as if he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. No shift in tone. No hesitation.

Just that.

Irina blinked. Then let out a dry, almost disbelieving breath.

"…You know," she murmured, shaking her head slowly, "sometimes you say things like that, and I honestly don't know what to do with you."

She straightened up from the console, letting the controller rest in place. Then she stepped toward him—slow, unhurried—and came to stand at his side.

"What?" Astron asked, voice still calm.

She didn't answer. Instead, she reached up without a word and wrapped her arms gently around him from behind, her chin coming to rest lightly against the back of his shoulder.

No theatrics. No dramatics.

Just her, holding him.

"…Don't take too long," she said quietly.