Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 745 - 170.2 - Attention

'There's something else here,' Sylvie thought, focusing her [Authority] to sense the emotional hues emanating from the group. The vibrant curiosity and excitement radiating from the girls were obvious, but as her senses sharpened, she caught the faint glimmers of something more, something hidden beneath the surface. 
Her gaze shifted to Tessa first, the tall girl with her confident smile and playful tone. At first glance, her emotions seemed bright and straightforward—curiosity, admiration, and a touch of amusement. But deeper down, beneath the layers, there was a flicker of something sharper. Competitiveness. It wasn't overt, but it was there, like a faint ember burning in the background. 
'She's not just curious,' Sylvie realized. 'She's measuring him. Seeing how he's changed, how he compares.' 
Eva's emotions were more layered, a swirling mix of curiosity and amusement on the surface. But as Sylvie focused, she caught the faintest trace of something else. 
'Darker.' 
Something darker. 
'...This….' 
Something that she would rather not say. 
Sylvie's focus shifted to Mira, the quietest of the group, whose emotions carried none of the hidden currents that marked the others. Pure curiosity radiated from her, mingled with admiration and genuine appreciation. It was simple and untainted, free of ulterior motives or hidden agendas. 
'At least one of them is honest,' Sylvie thought, though the relief was fleeting. She knew what she had sensed in Eva—something darker, a flicker of thoughts Sylvie preferred not to name or dwell on. 
Her chest tightened, and she clenched her jaw. It wasn't just the emotions she had picked up; it was what they implied. These girls, eager and animated now, hadn't shown a fraction of this interest when Astron had struggled during the start of their time at the academy. 
Back then, Astron had been different—quiet, reserved, and clearly battling his own. 
Sylvie had noticed, even when others didn't. She'd seen the weight he carried, the quiet determination in his eyes despite everything he faced. These same girls had barely spared him a glance then, much less this kind of attention. 
And now, after his transformation, they were crowding him, chirping questions and basking in his newfound presence. It didn't sit right with her. 
'Two-faced,' she thought, the word settling heavily in her mind. She hated how it felt, but she couldn't ignore it. They weren't here for him—not really. They were here for the version of him they could now admire, the one that stood out, the one that seemed untouchable. 
Her annoyance simmered beneath the surface, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. And as if on cue, more students began to gather, emboldened by the girls who had taken the first step. A small crowd was forming now, a mix of boys and girls, their curiosity palpable. 
It wasn't clear if they were drawn by Astron himself or by the group already surrounding him—likely both. The energy in the room shifted, a low hum of voices filling the space as more and more students approached. 
Sylvie frowned, her gaze darting to Astron. He remained calm and composed, his expression unchanging despite the growing attention. The quiet confidence that radiated from him seemed to only draw them closer, like moths to a flame. 
But Sylvie's frustration only grew. 'Where were all of you before?' she wanted to ask. 'When he was struggling? When he didn't stand out? When he wasn't… this?' 
The contrast was too stark, too glaring to ignore. And yet, Astron showed no sign of annoyance or discomfort. 
Astron let the chatter wash over him for a moment, his sharp gaze flickering between the faces of the crowd. Their questions came rapid-fire, their voices overlapping, but he caught the undercurrent in their tones—the genuine curiosity, the shallow admiration, and, in some cases, something more calculating. 
Normally, he would have brushed them off entirely. In the past, the noise and the intrusive attention would have been more trouble than it was worth. But things had changed. He had changed. 
The time spent in the organization, surrounded by recruits who clung to every word of guidance, had taught him the weight of communication. The nights spent with Irina and Maya, their conversations a mix of camaraderie and silent understanding, had softened the sharp edges of his solitude. He still preferred silence, but now, he didn't despise the presence of others as much. 
He straightened in his chair, his expression calm but his eyes focused. "No secret potion," he began, his voice even, carrying just enough weight to quiet the overlapping questions. "No mysterious technique." 
The students leaned closer, their eagerness palpable. 
"I trained," he continued simply. "A lot. Hard work doesn't always show results immediately, but eventually, it catches up." 
Tessa raised an eyebrow, her competitive curiosity flaring. "Just training? Come on, Astron, everyone trains. What made yours different?" 
Astron regarded her coolly, recognizing the spark in her tone—a challenge. "Consistency. And purpose," he replied. "Most people train without fully understanding what they're aiming for. They improve incrementally but never breakthrough. I focused on my weaknesses, broke myself down, and rebuilt. It's not a secret; it's just discipline." 
The chatter shifted, the questions veering off into a new direction. Astron noticed the change immediately—the subtle recalibration of energy in the group. It wasn't curiosity anymore; it was something sharper, edged with intent. 
"So, about your looks," a voice cut through, smooth but carrying a faint undercurrent of malice. It belonged to Zayn, a student whom Astron had observed for picking apart his peers with carefully veiled insults. 
He stepped closer, his expression friendly, but his eyes betrayed his intent. "Did you, uh, take something for that? You know, some kind of enhancement? Or maybe… you've been experimenting?" 
The air grew heavy with unspoken tension. 
"Maybe it was related to that business of yours? I remember, people saying you were going into brothels all the time in the first semester, I guess that was true?" 
A few students exchanged glances, their curiosity shifting to apprehension. 
Astron's gaze shifted to Zayn, his expression calm but his sharp, piercing eyes betrayed his unyielding focus. He allowed the words to hang in the air, their venom spreading through the tension-filled silence. Several students turned to glare at Zayn, their disapproval evident. A few murmured under their breaths, questioning what he was implying. 
"Zayn, what are you even talking about?" one student hissed, their tone incredulous. Another added, "That's crossing a line. You can't just—" 
Astron raised a hand, silencing the growing whispers around him. His composure remained unbroken, and instead of addressing the crowd, he locked his gaze firmly on Zayn. The room felt heavier, the atmosphere thick with an almost palpable chill. 
He finally spoke, his voice steady and unhurried. "If that were the case," he began, his tone deliberate, "don't you think the academy would have already taken action?" 
The question lingered, cutting through the air like a blade. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his body language calm but his words laced with a quiet edge. "I'm still here, aren't I? Still sitting in this classroom, still a student at this academy. That alone should be enough to answer your question." 
Zayn flinched, his confident posture faltering under Astron's unwavering gaze. Astron's eyes bore into him, sharp and unrelenting, as if dissecting him down to his core. The silence in the room grew colder, the weight of Astron's words pressing down on everyone. 
"I assumed," Astron continued, his tone carrying a faint hint of amusement, "that even a child could think that far. Perhaps I overestimated." 
The insult landed with precision, its delivery clinical and devoid of emotion. Zayn's face flushed red, his earlier smirk replaced by a strained expression of embarrassment and anger. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out, his confidence thoroughly dismantled. 
Astron stood slowly, gathering his belongings with deliberate movements. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, the chill of his words lingering in the air. He glanced around briefly, his calm demeanor unchanged. "It seems I've been at fault," he said, his voice soft but cutting. "I never thought clarification was necessary, but evidently, there are some who require it." 
The tension in the room snapped like a drawn bowstring as Zayn's face contorted with anger. His pride, already bruised beyond repair, couldn't bear the cold finality of Astron's words. 
"YOU!" he barked, his voice sharp and raw. 
Without hesitation, he raised his hand, mana flaring to life around it. The faint glow of energy crackled through the air, his intent unmistakable. Gasps rippled through the students, some stepping back instinctively, while others froze in disbelief. 
Astron didn't flinch. He stood there, calm and unmoving, his piercing gaze locked onto Zayn. His composed demeanor only heightened the palpable weight of the moment, as if daring Zayn to follow through. 
The room seemed to hold its breath, time stretching unbearably thin. Zayn's hand trembled, his mana swirling chaotically around him. But as he took a step forward, his movement faltered 
His eyes widened, a flicker of realization dawning in them. The sharp intensity of his anger dulled, replaced by something else—logical mind. 
The glow of his mana dimmed, flickering like a dying flame, and he lowered his hand slowly. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as he clenched his fists at his sides. The silence was deafening, the judgmental gazes of the other students weighing heavily on him. 
Zayn glared at Astron, his jaw tight with frustration and shame. The tension in the air didn't dissipate; if anything, it thickened around him as he stood there, trapped in his own humiliation. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he spun on his heel and stormed toward the door, his steps heavy with unspoken fury. 
The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room, breaking the oppressive stillness. 
Astron didn't move. He watched Zayn's retreating figure with the same detached calm, his expression unreadable. The faint crackle of residual mana in the air was the only evidence of what had almost transpired. 
"Not bad." 
Astron commented as he looked into the retreating figure. 
"I assumed he was like a child, but it appears that he has some maturity." 
The students exchanged confused glances, unsure of how to respond. Astron continued, his voice steady and deliberate. 
The room hummed with murmurs of agreement. Some nodded, while others still seemed too stunned by the confrontation to process Astron's detached commentary. The tension eased, though, as the crowd refocused their attention. 
"So, Astron," a bold voice broke through the chatter, this time with less malice and more curiosity. "What about your looks? Seriously, what's the secret?" 
And the questions only grew bolder. 
"Are you seeing anyone?" someone called out, prompting a ripple of laughter and hushed giggles. 
"Yeah, Astron! Do you even have a type?" another chimed in, their grin suggesting they weren't entirely serious. 
Astron raised an eyebrow, but before he could formulate a response, the air in the room shifted. A subtle but undeniable heat crept into the atmosphere, like the first wave of warmth before a blazing fire. 
And it was coming from a certain someone. Nôv(el)B\\jnn