Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Ethan dashed forward, the floor beneath his feet sparking with the discharge of lightning psions. His spear was gripped in both hands, the tip lowered, crackling with volatile arcs. He didn’t waste time feinting—he opened with momentum, with intent.

SWOOSH!

The spear sliced through the air like a bolt unleashed, aimed clean at Victor’s side.

Victor shifted.

One step—no more.

His sword came up at an angle with smooth, terrifying grace.

CLANG!

The edge of Ethan’s spear met Victor’s blade, the force of the impact crackling like a whip through the chamber. Lightning leapt across the clashpoint, but Victor’s stance didn’t falter.

He twisted.

With a single flick, he redirected the spear’s momentum—his wrist rotating just enough to send Ethan slightly off balance.

THUD!

Ethan’s boots skidded across the floor, heels digging in to slow himself. But he didn’t hesitate. Already, his hand snapped back, spear spinning once as he regained control.

“Thunder Coil.”

Electric arcs surged through the haft of his spear, wrapping around it in a spiral of energy. With a hard step, he lunged, twisting the spear into a coiling stab, aimed like a drill toward Victor’s shoulder.

ZAAAP!

Victor’s eyes sharpened.

He stepped aside—not away. Just to the side, narrowly dodging the coiling thrust. His sword didn’t rise to block this time. Instead, he pivoted with Ethan’s momentum and used the flat of his blade to push past the strike.

WHUMP!

Ethan stumbled forward, only for a second—only enough to create an opening.

Victor raised his blade—

But Ethan spun low.

“Lightning Step.”

CRACK!

A burst of thunder exploded beneath Ethan’s foot as he vanished in a blink of static, appearing two meters to Victor’s side. The dodge wasn’t clean, but it bought him space.

SKRRCH!

Sparks danced as he dragged the tip of the spear across the stone floor, and then, using the momentum, he swept it in a wide arc.

Victor caught the motion instantly.

His sword was there again—CLANG! CLANG!

Two precise deflections, using minimal movement. His posture never cracked. He didn’t even blink as Ethan pressed forward again.

ZAP—THRUST!

Another lightning-fueled lunge. Ethan’s expression now sharpened—not with desperation, but focus. Every strike came faster, more refined, chaining into the next.

“Lightning Branch—Third Form.”

This time the strike wasn’t linear. He feinted high, then suddenly pulled back and snapped the spear around his back in a circular whip, the blade coming up from below.

WHSHHHK—!!

Victor reacted mid-flow.

With one hand, he reversed his grip on the sword, bringing it down into a low guard.

CLANG!

The weapons clashed again, sparks flying. The recoil forced them apart for a breath.

Huff… Ethan exhaled, lightning now crackling across his arms, making the very air around him hiss.

Victor didn’t say a word.

But his sword… lowered.

Just slightly.

And his left foot slid forward.

A shift.

A signal.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

He’s getting serious now.

And in the silence between their next move—

The duel truly began.

Ethan’s chest rose and fell steadily, each breath controlled, every nerve buzzing. The lightning psions coiled tighter around his frame now—not wild, but refined, honed into the form of his will. He didn’t charge again blindly.

This time, he called upon his bloodline.

“Spear of Hartley—Form Two: Radiant Surge.”

CRACK—KRAKOOM!

Lightning erupted from beneath his feet in a spiraling column. Ethan vanished in a blur of light, his form streaking across the arena like a thunderbolt let loose. The spear thrummed in his grip as he reappeared above Victor—spinning, descending.

He struck downward with explosive force.

BOOOM!

Victor moved.

Not dodging—receiving.

He raised his blade and whispered something that barely cut through the sound.

“Sword of Order—First Verse: Still Reflection.”

CLANG!

The blow landed—but it was wrong.

Ethan felt it the instant their weapons clashed.

His lightning—his explosive follow-through, the recoil that usually sent opponents stumbling or sliding—it all felt like it evaporated.

ZZZT—SSHHH…

The lightning bled off his spear unnaturally fast, vanishing into the air around Victor’s blade like water into sand. No shock. No rebound. No flare of impact.

Ethan’s eyes widened.

What was that?

Victor’s expression didn’t shift. His sword glowed faintly now—not with elemental psions, but with something structured. Like it wasn’t just absorbing Ethan’s attack—but redefining it.

Ethan jumped back, landing in a half-crouch. His fingers tingled. The lightning hadn’t just failed to explode—it had felt siphoned.

“Again,” he muttered.

“Spear of Hartley—Form Four: Arc Reversal!”

He pivoted, launching the spear in a rapid arc, a curved throw designed to return in mid-air. A high-speed boomerang laced with electrified psions. A classic Hartley strike meant for disorientation and overwhelming angles.

Victor’s eyes tracked it calmly.

He didn’t step away.

He didn’t raise a shield.

Instead, he spoke again—his voice low, resonant.

“Sword of Order—Second Verse: Fractured Line.”

SHHNNNK—

He drew a quick slash in the air, and the moment his blade moved—Ethan’s spear changed course.

Mid-flight, the arc bent inward, sucked unnaturally toward Victor’s sword like gravity had been rewritten. Ethan’s pupils shrank.

That’s not natural mana manipulation.

That was domain-level interference.

He leapt forward, catching the spear just before it could be pulled completely, wrenching it free with a hiss of raw willpower and psionic feedback.

ZZZKRKK—!!

Victor’s blade held no elemental aggression. It wasn’t fire or lightning or wind.

It was… order.

Everything around it followed its rules. Even Ethan’s energy was being shaped into compliance.

Ethan’s grip tightened. “What is that sword style…?”

Victor’s eyes flicked to him, calm and composed.

“It’s not meant to overwhelm,” he said softly. “It’s meant to balance.”

BZZT.

Lightning sparked again, more erratic now.

Ethan grinned despite himself, sweat trickling from his temple. “Tch… what a pain.”

“Spear of Hartley—Form Six: Heaven’s Crack!”

He leapt.

Vertical thrust.

All the lightning concentrated into a single linear point.

A move meant to break through.

Victor’s blade came up once more, mana condensing, singing along its edge.

“Sword of Order—Third Verse: Absolute Bind.”

The clash met mid-air.

BOOOOOM!!!

A wave of compressed mana burst from the collision, rippling through the arena like thunder turned solid.

And in the heart of it—Ethan could feel it again.

His lightning was being drained… equalized… broken down into something else.

And Victor?

Victor was still calm. Still standing.

Still waiting for the next verse.

Ethan gritted his teeth.

So this is what the top looks like.

WHUMP—

Victor stepped forward.

But to Ethan, it felt like he appeared.

One moment he stood across the arena.

The next—he was right there.

No windup. No footfall. No aura spike.

Just presence.

Ethan’s eyes widened.

Victor’s sword was already mid-swing, a downward arc that seemed impossibly fast and entirely inevitable.

No time to parry.

No time to dodge.

Ethan’s instincts screamed, but his mind was faster.

“Temporal Warding!”

FWUUM—KRRZZZCH!

A shimmering, hexagonal barrier of condensed psions erupted in front of him, layers of time-mana folding outward like ripples frozen mid-air. Victor’s blade collided with the barrier, and for the first time—met resistance.

CRACK—SHHHNNK!

The force rebounded.

Victor’s blade deflected to the side, and for a fleeting heartbeat, his posture opened.

Ethan surged forward.

Lightning exploded around him.

His body shot through the space between them like a bolt unchained.

His spear cocked back—

“Got you!” he thought, teeth clenched, his whole weight behind the thrust.

He lunged, aiming directly for Victor’s core—

But then—

Something bent.

Not the spear.

The path.

It tilted.

Not much. Just enough.

The tip of his weapon veered off-course, as if the space around Victor had corrected itself.

A whisper, nearly drowned in the sizzle of psions.

“Restore the order.”

Victor’s voice.

Calm. Soft. Inevitable.

Ethan’s eyes went wide as his strike passed harmlessly by Victor’s shoulder.

No…!

And then—

SHHHK.

Victor’s sword was at his neck.

Not pressing. Not cutting.

Just resting there.

Like it had always been.

The duel was over.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!