Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 783 Chapter 181.2 - Why should I

Chapter 783  Chapter 181.2 - Why should I

The soft glow of Ethan's tablet illuminated the otherwise dark room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. His room was small but meticulously organized—training gear neatly stacked in one corner, books and notes spread out on the desk. The faint hum of the academy's automated systems filtered through the silence, but Ethan paid no attention to it. 
His hazel eyes were fixed on the screen, unblinking. The video played for what felt like the hundredth time, but the weight in his chest hadn't lessened. 
Astron was in the center of the screen, bloodied and beaten, surrounded by Victor Langley and his lackeys. Ethan's jaw clenched as he watched the first punch land, the sickening crack reverberating in his mind like an echo. 
The young man with black hair and purple eyes didn't fight back. He didn't even flinch. He simply endured, his silence speaking volumes in a way no words ever could. 
Astron was in the center of the screen, bloodied and beaten, surrounded by Victor Langley and his lackeys. Ethan's jaw clenched as he watched the first punch land, the sickening crack reverberating in his mind like an echo. 
The young man with black hair and purple eyes didn't fight back. He didn't even flinch. He simply endured, his silence speaking volumes in a way no words ever could. 
Ethan's grip on the tablet tightened, his knuckles turning white as. The sophomores' blows came hard and fast, the sound of fists and feet connecting with flesh making his stomach twist. Blood sprayed across the floor, splattering Astron's dark hair and pale face. 
The video ended, looping back to the start. Ethan didn't move to stop it. He leaned forward instead, elbows resting on his knees as his free hand pressed against his mouth. His hazel eyes glinted in the dim light, his expression unreadable but filled with quiet tension. 
"Why didn't you fight back?" he muttered under his breath, his voice low and edged with frustration. 
The comments beneath the video scrolled past, but he barely glanced at them. 
"Victor's a piece of trash. Someone needs to stop him." 
"Astron's tougher than anyone thought. Respect." 
"This just proves how far he's willing to go. He didn't break." 
Ethan paused the video mid-loop, freezing the frame on Astron's face. Blood trickled down his chin, his hair plastered to his forehead, but his purple eyes stared back at the camera with unyielding resolve. That look unsettled Ethan—not because it was weak, but because of what it concealed. 
"Damn it, Astron," Ethan muttered, leaning back in his chair. His hand ran through his blond hair in frustration, his grip momentarily tugging at the strands. "What are you trying to prove?" 
Was this the same guy that had fought with himself? 
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his head resting against the wall as his thoughts churned. Astron. A name that had come to occupy a peculiar space in his mind. For all the time they'd been around each other, Ethan still couldn't figure him out. Astron was like a scarred wolf—proud, solitary, and fiercely guarded. 
'Why do you do this to yourself?' Ethan thought, his eyes drifting back to the frozen image on the tablet screen. The bloodied, unyielding expression Astron wore felt haunting. It wasn't weakness; it wasn't submission. It was something else entirely, something Ethan couldn't quite place. 
Astron's demeanor had always been different from most. He wasn't friendly, but he wasn't cruel either. He was distant, cold, and blunt to a fault, yet there was something beneath that exterior—a quiet determination and a certain… brokenness. 
'He's not a bad guy,' Ethan reminded himself. Despite Astron's aloofness, Ethan had seen enough to know that he wasn't malicious. He didn't meddle in other people's business, didn't seek trouble, and he trained with an intensity that few could match. 'But why is he always alone?' 
The thought gnawed at Ethan. It wasn't just the loneliness that bothered him, though that was part of it. It was the fact that Astron accepted things—like the beating he'd endured in the video—as if he expected them, as if he believed he deserved them. That didn't sit right. Not with Ethan. 
His jaw clenched as he stared at the tablet, anger bubbling under his calm exterior. 'No one deserves this. And yet he just stood there and took it.' 
As the image of Astron's bloodied face filled his mind, a memory stirred—a fragment, faint and disjointed. 
"I'm sorry." 
The words echoed faintly, like a voice from another world. Ethan's brow furrowed as he grasped at the memory, trying to make sense of it. 
"You are sorry for what?" 
A figure stood before him, shadowed and indistinct. Blood dripped from their body, pooling at their feet. Ethan's grip tightened around the spear in his hand, its tip pointed toward the person. The weight of the scene pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. 
The memory ended as abruptly as it had come, leaving Ethan with a lingering sense of unease. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. 'What was that?' 
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his breath steady but his mind anything but calm. The fragment of memory lingered, its edges blurred but its weight undeniable. He hadn't recalled anything like that happening before—no such moment in his life, no scene that would explain it. And yet, it felt real. Too vivid, too heavy, to simply dismiss as a stray thought. 
'What is this?' he wondered, rubbing his temples as if that might help dislodge more from the depths of his mind. He tried to piece it together, but the more he thought about it, the more elusive it became. 
What he did remember, however, were the eyes. Empty, haunting purple eyes staring back at him. There was no anger in them, no defiance—just silence. Acceptance. 
Ethan's hazel eyes flicked back to the tablet, frozen on the image of Astron's bloodied face. His stomach twisted as he realized why those eyes felt so familiar. 
'They're the same.' 
The same emptiness. The same hollowness that seemed to swallow everything around them. Astron had looked just like that in the video—like someone who wasn't fighting back, not because he couldn't, but because he didn't see the point. 
The thought sent a chill down Ethan's spine. 'Why does this feel so familiar? Why does it bother me this much?' 
He closed his eyes, the fragment of memory resurfacing unbidden. The blood pooled at the feet of the shadowed figure. The weight of the spear in his hand. The words, faint but clear: 
"You are sorry for what?" 
Ethan's chest tightened as he tried to make sense of it. He had never wielded his spear in a moment like that. Never stood before someone so broken. And yet… he could still feel it. The trembling in his hands. The ache in his heart. 
RING!  
The sudden chime of a notification jolted Ethan from his thoughts. The familiar sound felt almost intrusive, breaking the heavy silence of the room. He glanced at the tablet, the group chat lighting up with a new message. 
It was from Julia. 
A voice message. 
Ethan hesitated for a second before pressing play. Julia's fiery tone blasted through the speakers, her words sharp and unrestrained. 
"These sophomore fuckers! Who do they think they are?!" 
Her voice practically shook with rage, and Ethan could almost picture her pacing furiously as she vented. Normally, he would have rolled his eyes at her language or even teased her about her lack of decorum, but this time, he didn't feel the need to say anything. He couldn't. 
Because he agreed. 
Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his jaw tightening as Julia's words echoed in his head. 'They're really going too far.' 
He glanced back at the paused video of Astron, bloodied and beaten. The memory of those purple eyes—empty, resigned—burned in his mind. It wasn't just Astron. It was all of it. The power plays, the bullying, the unchecked arrogance of those who thought they were untouchable. 
Another message pinged in. 
[Lucas: I told you they've been acting like this for weeks. Someone needs to stop them.] 
Ethan's fingers hovered over the keyboard, his thoughts racing. His friends were right. This wasn't just one incident. The sophomores had been throwing their weight around for a while now, and no one seemed willing to stand up to them. 
Another ping. 
[Lilia: Julia, calm down. You're going to give yourself an aneurysm.] 
[Julia: I'll calm down when they get what's coming to them!] 
[Carl: She's not wrong, though. They're out of control. Astron wasn't the first, and he won't be the last.] 
They were right, right…. 
But what could they even do about this matter? 
That was something worthy to think about. 
******* 
The following day, the atmosphere in the classroom was unusually tense. The students of HA25 sat quietly, the usual morning chatter subdued as if the air itself carried the weight of something unspoken. Ethan sat near the middle, his hazel eyes occasionally flicking toward Astron, who was, as usual, seated quietly in the corner, his expression unreadable. 
The door opened with a sharp click, and Professor Eleanor stepped in. Her posture was rigid, her movements deliberate, and her cold, piercing gaze swept across the room. The students immediately straightened in their seats, the silence becoming absolute. 
Eleanor carried her usual stack of papers and tablet, but there was a different energy about her today. She placed her belongings on the podium and stood there for a moment, letting the silence deepen before she finally spoke. 
"Before we begin today's lecture," she said, her voice calm but steely, "there is something I must address." 
Her sharp gray eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on Astron and then another student near the front—Taylor. 
Eleanor's gaze lingered on them for a moment before she continued. 
"Student Astron. Student Taylor," she said, her voice carrying an unusual softness, though it didn't lose its firmness. "As a representative of Arcadia Hunter Academy, I owe you both an apology."