HUNTER ACADEMY: REVENGE OF THE WEAKEST

The cold stone beneath Ethan felt distant. His body was screaming, the dull ache of bruises and the sharp sting of open wounds merging into a single, suffocating sensation. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, his blood pooling beneath him in slow, seeping rivulets.

Damn it…

He had fought. He had fought hard.

But even with his instincts, even with his speed, even with the calculated strikes that had taken down two of them—he was still outnumbered.

And they weren’t just some random thugs.

They were sophomores. Trained. Experienced. Stronger, if only by virtue of time and technique.

The last blow had sent him sprawling. A direct hit to his ribs—he wasn’t sure if they were cracked or broken, but breathing hurt like hell. He had tried to get up. Tried.

But his body had given out.

Now, lying on the ground, vision swimming, he forced himself to do one thing.

Memorize their faces.

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