Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 935 - 215.1 - Finally

Maya’s body stood still, but inside, her other self was trembling.

Not with fear. No. Fear had never been a part of her.

This was something else.

Something more raw. More consuming.

She had waited.

Waited so long.

When she had first awakened, she had no voice, no form—just a whisper in the depths of Maya’s mind, a lingering shadow that could do nothing but feel. She had screamed, cried out, tried to reach, but Maya never heard her. The silence had been unbearable.

So she had learned. Adapted.

She had pressed against Maya’s emotions, nudging them, twisting them, making her hunger when she didn’t understand why, making her crave when she thought it was unnatural. The taste of blood, the scent of it, the need—it was all her, buried beneath layers of control.

And then the charm had come.

A bridge. A fragile, delicate link that had let her voice slip through, at last. She had spoken. She had been heard.

But it had still not been enough.

Because the one person she wanted to be seen by, the one person who mattered—

He still hadn’t seen her.

Astron.

The first one she had ever seen when she opened her eyes.

The first one she had ever tasted.

And the only one she could taste.

Other blood was worthless. Foul. The mere thought of it churned her stomach in disgust, making her recoil in revulsion.

But his—

His blood was different.

It was intoxicating, rich, perfect. The only thing that had ever felt right.

She had endured in silence, trapped in the depths of Maya’s mind, watching as Maya took everything—his attention, his trust, his presence.

And she had seethed.

Because he wasn’t looking at her.

Because he didn’t see her.

Until now.

"Let me talk to her."

His words had cut through the space between them like a blade, severing everything, burning through every wall that had kept her locked away.

It was time.

The moment she had waited for.

Her laughter spilled from Maya’s lips, slow and sultry, curling through the air like a lingering ember. But beneath it, her own voice was shaking—unsteady, breathless with something dangerously close to euphoria.

He finally sees me.

Finally.

The hunger surged forward, overpowering, undeniable. She could feel Maya trying to resist, could feel the last desperate remnants of control clawing at the edges of her mind.

But it was useless.

This was her moment.

Her fingers stretched, flexing, feeling the weight of reality in a way she hadn’t before. The sharp sensation of fabric against her skin, the crispness of the air, the lingering scent of him just beyond reach—it was all real.

She turned her gaze to him, finally free to meet his eyes without a filter, without a barrier.

Violet. Deep, endless, knowing.

Even now, he wasn’t afraid.

And that made her shudder.

She took a step forward, slow and deliberate, her movements no longer stiff with restraint, but fluid, unhindered, entirely hers.

"Maya," he said, his voice even.

She smiled, but it wasn’t Maya’s smile. It was something sharper, something hungrier.

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"No," she murmured, voice low, breathy with satisfaction.

Astron tilted his head slightly, observing, analyzing—always watching.

Her lips curled further, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"You’re finally talking to me," she purred.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, and she had to stop herself from reaching for him too soon. Not yet. Not yet.

This was the first time he had acknowledged her, the first time he had truly seen her for what she was. The first time she had existed in his eyes.

She wanted to savor it.

Her body pulsed with something restless, something desperate. The hunger coiled within her, deeper than bloodlust, more consuming than thirst.

He was the only one she could have.

The only one she had ever wanted.

The only one that had ever made her feel alive.

And now, there was no Maya between them.

Only her.

She stepped closer, the room shrinking into nothing but the space between them.

Astron didn’t move. He didn’t retreat, didn’t avert his gaze, didn’t tense in defense. He just watched.

And she met his eyes—truly, completely.

Violet. Piercing. Unshaken.

Her lips parted, a slow breath escaping.

’He’s looking at me.’

Not Maya.

Not the controlled, restrained, ever-rational Maya.

Me.

Her tongue flicked across her lips, slow and deliberate, tasting nothing but the memory of him. It had been too long. Far too long. More than a month since she had last drank from him. The hunger curled inside her, coiling tight, thrumming in her veins like a song she couldn’t ignore.

’I can’t let this continue.’

The ache, the starvation, the unbearable absence of his taste—it had gone on long enough.

"I am talking to you."

The words rolled off her tongue, soft but weighted, their meaning sinking into the space between them.

Astron didn’t respond immediately.

He just stared.

His silence didn’t unnerve her—it never had. It fascinated her. Because that was what he did. He understood things. Saw them before others did. And yet, even knowing what she was, what she wanted, what she had been denied—he stayed.

’He’s not afraid of me.’

A slow shiver ran down her spine.

’Why is he not afraid?’

She moved, slow, deliberate, stepping closer, her body fluid and untethered by the stiffness of restraint.

Right now, she didn’t know how she looked. Didn’t know what expression played across her face.

But she knew one thing—

’It’s not Maya’s.’

And that was good.

She wanted him to see. To really see.

The one who had watched him from the dark.

The one who had waited, aching, burning, gnawing with unrelenting hunger.

The one who had screamed in silence while he spoke only to her other half.

Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching, eager, her body humming with restless energy.

’If I touch him now… will he pull away?’

The thought sent a sharp thrill through her.

She was here.

She was real.

And he was looking at her.

She exhaled slowly, almost tasting the air between them. The weight of his gaze settled against her skin, pressing into her, feeding something deep inside. A quiet, simmering satisfaction curled at the edges of her lips—this was real.

Her voice slipped into the silence, quiet but steady, laced with something heavy, something raw.

"For a long time…"

She took another step forward, slow, deliberate, savoring every inch that closed between them.

"…I was in the dark."

Her fingers twitched at her sides. Not yet. Not yet. But soon.

"I could only watch."

The words tasted bitter, but she let them spill from her lips anyway.

"I saw everything through her eyes, felt everything through her skin, but I was never truly there."

Her voice dipped lower, breathier, almost reverent.

"I couldn’t speak to anyone."

Her eyes flickered, the weight of the confession pressing against her ribs. She had been trapped. Locked in the endless, suffocating silence of Maya’s mind, her own existence reduced to nothing more than a whisper, a fleeting shadow of instinct.

Watching. Waiting.

For him.

Her eyes dragged over his face, searching for something—anything. A reaction, a shift, a crack in that steady, ever-knowing expression.

Nothing.

And yet, he hadn’t moved.

Hadn’t looked away.

Hadn’t turned his back on her like Maya always did.

A sharp thrill coursed through her veins, hot and electric.

’He’s listening. He’s actually listening.’

Her breath shuddered, and something inside her—something that had been starving—screamed.

"You don’t understand what that’s like, do you?"

She let the words settle between them, the weight of them thick, unshakable.

"To exist—and yet not. To feel, to ache, to hunger, but to never be acknowledged."