Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 915 211.1 - Politics

Trevor sat in his dimly lit room, his back pressed against the cool leather of his chair. The curtains were drawn, allowing only the faintest slivers of sunlight to filter through. The holo-projector flickered before him, casting the imposing figure of his father into the room.

Trevor had skipped today's lectures. Not because he was avoiding anyone—not because of yesterday. He told himself that wasn't the reason. This was more important. This was real power.

And from the way his father's smirk curled at the edges of his lips, it was obvious.

The Philips family had won.

"Well done, Trevor," his father's voice came through the transmission, smooth, pleased, like a general surveying the battlefield after a successful purge. "Your actions worked."

Trevor exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral despite the growing satisfaction curling in his chest.

"They were sloppy," his father continued, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Too comfortable. Too reliant on their own importance. The Hartley Guild has been a thorn in our side for years, but now?" He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes glinting. "Now, they're bleeding."

Trevor's fingers tapped against the armrest. "Twelve dungeons, all hit in a single night," he murmured, repeating the report he had received earlier. "Three of their high-ranking members are gone."

Marin Kont. Royce Grant. Valencia Marlowe.

Trevor wasn't a fool. He knew who those people were. They weren't just assets—they were pillars.

And now, they were corpses.

With Kaya Hartley occupied at the academy, it had been so much easier. She was the real force behind the Hartley Guild's operations. With her out of the picture, their coordination was sluggish, vulnerable.

And vulnerability meant opportunity.