Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 936 - 215.2 - Finally

Astron shook his head.

"I know," he said, his voice calm, steady.

Her breath hitched.

His words settled over her like an unexpected weight, like something she hadn’t prepared for, something she couldn’t immediately process.

"You know?"

Her eyes locked onto his, searching, prying, trying to find the lie. Was he saying this just to pacify her? Was he simply playing along, saying what she wanted to hear?

But—she couldn’t read him.

Nothing in his expression betrayed a falsehood. No hesitation, no wavering, no flicker of insincerity.

She hated that about him.

She loved that about him.

She wanted to tear through that exterior, break past the unreadable depths of his gaze and see what lay beneath.

But instead—

She found herself believing him.

Because why would he lie?

Because Astron never lied.

He exhaled softly, his violet gaze unwavering. "I have once been in a situation similar to yours. Trapped in some sort of… space, unable to influence anything, unable to be heard, unable to act. For a long time."

Her lips parted slightly, something shifting inside her, something strange, something… warm.

That feeling—it was new. And she didn’t know if she liked it.

But before she could speak, before she could press him, his hand lifted.

Slowly. Deliberately.

He extended his index finger toward her, the movement precise, calculated. An offering.

"That is why," he murmured, "I am allowing you to do this."

Her breath stilled.

Her gaze locked onto his finger, her pupils dilating as the hunger surged, pressing against the walls of her restraint, clawing at her, screaming.

Her tongue darted out again, wetting her lips.

It was so close. So near. So tangible.

’It’s been so long…’

Too long.

Her body trembled, a deep, aching need twisting inside her. She could feel the pressure building, the unbearable tightness in her chest, the gnawing hunger that had been festering, growing, suffocating her for over a month.

He was offering it to her.

His blood.

"You must be hungry."

His voice was calm. Unshaken.

"Don’t hold it in."

Her breathing turned shallow, uneven.

But—

She didn’t want his finger.

Maya had bitten him on the neck. Always on the neck.

Why should she—why would she—settle for something less?

A flicker of thought. A single, unrestrained impulse.

And then she moved.

A sharp burst of speed, a fluid, instinctual lunge—

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Her hands grasped onto his shoulders, her body pressing into his as her lips found the place she knew best.

A sharp gasp filled the air.

His neck.

Her fangs sank into him.

The moment his blood surged through her, her mind broke.

Silence.

And then—

Ecstasy.

’This is it…’

A shudder wracked through her body, her grip tightening as the taste flooded her senses, thick and intoxicating, perfect.

’This is it.’

She barely registered the way Astron remained still beneath her, barely noticed the warmth of his skin under her hands, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

All she could feel—

All she could taste—

Was him.

His blood rushed into her like fire, coursing through her veins, filling every aching void, every unbearable craving that had gnawed at her for so long.

Nothing else had ever been enough.

No one else’s blood had ever smelled good and she was sure that other bloods wouldn’t taste right.

But this—

This was everything.

Warmth.

It spread through her like molten fire, curling around her bones, weaving through every inch of her body, filling the emptiness that had gnawed at her for so long.

So this is how it feels…

To drink his blood.

To sense him all around her.

To have him—not just as something she could watch from the shadows, not just as something distant and untouchable—but as something real.

His presence, his essence, his very being—flowing into her.

It was intoxicating.

A slow, shuddering breath escaped her as she drank deeper, her fingers curling against his shoulders, pressing herself closer, closer.

She couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

The hunger had been too strong for too long, buried beneath layers of restraint, waiting, aching, desperate for release. And now—now that she finally had him—

Why would she ever let go?

The taste of him—rich, warm, perfect—swelled inside her, laced with something deeper, something she couldn’t name, couldn’t explain.

It was more than just blood.

It was him.

And she was consuming him.

The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through her, a sensation so overwhelming, so raw, she nearly shook from it.

She wanted more.

Needed more.

Her grip tightened, her fangs sinking deeper, drawing out another rush of warmth that flooded her tongue, slid down her throat, seeped into her very being.

Yes.

Yes.

She had been starving.

This was what she needed.

What she had always needed.

The pulse of his blood throbbed against her lips, his scent flooding her senses, drowning her in him.

And still—

She drank.

More.

And more.

And more.

She could feel his heartbeat, steady, unwavering—his life coursing through her.

Filling her.

Becoming a part of her.

’More. I need more. I need—’

A sharp, sudden pulse—a warning.

Her body tensed.

Something inside her twisted, an aching pull that sent a jolt through her chest—pain? No, not pain. Something else.

But she didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

Because stopping meant losing this.

Losing him.

Warmth.

It spread through her, deeper than before, seeping into every corner of her being.

She drank.

More.

And more.

His pulse was steady, unwavering, thrumming against her lips, against her fangs, against her very core.

She was drowning in him, sinking, losing herself in the intoxicating sensation of having him this close, of finally taking what had been denied for so long.

And then—

His voice cut through the haze.

"It must have been quite hard, holding it in for the past month."

A slow, shuddering breath escaped her, muffled against his neck.

Was it hard?

Yes.

But also—

’…I was getting used to it.’

The hunger was still there, always there, but it wasn’t everything anymore.

Ever since the charm—ever since she could talk to Maya, reach her, interact with her—this unbearable, gnawing desire wasn’t the only thing she could feel. She wasn’t just some primal instinct locked away, screaming for blood. She could think. She could speak.

She could exist.

Even so—

She nodded.

Because it had been hard.

Astron exhaled lightly, his breath brushing against her hair. "You did a good job."

And then—

A weight.

Soft.

Gentle.

His hand pressed lightly against her head, fingers sinking into her hair as he patted her.

She froze.

A sharp tremor ran through her, something different from hunger, different from thirst, different from anything she had ever known.

’…What is this?’

Her fingers twitched against his shoulders.

His blood—his perfect blood—had given her ecstasy, had filled the emptiness inside her, had become something she craved more than anything.

But this—

This feeling, this strange, unfamiliar warmth curling in her chest, unfurling with each slow, careful motion of his hand against her head—

Even his blood hadn’t given her this.

Her body shook.

A small, involuntary tremble, her breath hitching against his skin.

’Why…?’

Why was this making her feel so strange?

So weak?

So overwhelmed?

She had wanted his blood.

But this—this touch, this acknowledgment—

"Pah…"

The soft sound escaped her lips as she pulled back, her fangs slipping from his neck. A thin bridge of saliva stretched between them, catching the dim light before snapping, vanishing into nothing.

She could still taste him.

His blood lingered on her tongue, warm and intoxicating, coating her senses in something deep, something undeniable.

But she barely noticed.

Because when she looked up—

He was looking at her.

His violet eyes met hers, steady, cold, unreadable.

A sharp contrast to the heat pooling in her chest, to the way her breath trembled, to the lingering sensation of his hand against her head.

She felt his blood inside her, still surging through her veins, warming her from the inside out.

And yet—

It was that touch she couldn’t shake.

Her lips parted slightly, an unfamiliar tightness catching in her throat as she searched his gaze, trying—desperate—to find something. A crack, a flicker, a sign that he was affected.

But he simply watched.

Unmoved.

Unshaken.

His expression, his presence, his very being—calm.

And she…

She didn’t understand.

Because he had felt it, hadn’t he?

That small tremor in her body, the way she had nearly collapsed from a simple touch.

She had never trembled before.

Not from hunger.

Not from thirst.

Not from anything.

And yet—his hand had made her shake.

The warmth still lingered on her scalp, a phantom sensation that refused to fade, embedding itself deeper, curling around her like a quiet, unshakable chain.

Her breath hitched, her lips still slightly parted, as she whispered, barely a breath—

"…Why?"

She didn’t even know what she was asking.

Why had he patted her?

Why had it felt like that?

Why was it affecting her more than his blood?

His gaze remained steady, unwavering, as if he saw straight through her, straight into her.