Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 660 - 145.2 - Emberheart Mansion

As they stepped out of the car and approached the mansion, Irina felt a small knot of tension settle in her stomach. She had never brought anyone here like this before, much less someone like Astron, whose calm indifference masked a world of complexities. She stole a quick glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was as composed as ever—completely unaffected by the grandeur of the Emberheart estate or the formality of the situation. His calm demeanor seemed almost absurd in contrast to the sheer weight of the occasion.

A faint laugh escaped her, the sound almost bitter. Why was I even worried? she thought, shaking her head at herself. This guy… he's always been like this, hasn't he? Astron had a way of facing situations, even the most intense ones, with that quiet, unshakeable calm that made him so different from everyone else she knew.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, he turned to her, his gaze steady. "You should calm down," he said in that soft, level voice of his. "It's fine."

His words were simple, but they carried a surprising reassurance that eased the tension in her chest. Irina met his gaze, taking a slow breath and nodding, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Easy for you to say," she murmured, her tone half-teasing, half-grateful. "You're not the one who has to introduce someone to… her."

Astron only shrugged, his calm expression unwavering. "Your mother's just another person."

Irina's eyes widened slightly, an incredulous laugh bubbling up. "Another person?" She shook her head, both amused and a little stunned. "I don't think anyone's ever called the Matriarch of the Emberheart family 'just another person.'"

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Titles don't change what people are," he replied quietly. "She'll either approve, or she won't. Worrying about it won't change anything."

Irina took a breath, letting his words sink in. Somehow, his logic made the impending confrontation seem… manageable, or at least less daunting. She straightened her shoulders, feeling the weight of her usual confidence return.

"Fine," she said, giving him a sidelong glance.

But then, just as they were about to walk towards where her mother was, a maid who was waiting for them in the entrance hall came forward. She inclined her head respectfully, her gaze flickering briefly to Astron before settling on Irina with a reserved but attentive expression.

"Lady Irina," the maid began, her tone calm and formal, "the Matriarch has instructed me to inform you that she wishes to meet you both at dinner this evening, at 6 P.M."

With that, the maid offered a respectful bow before retreating, leaving the two of them in the entrance hall once more.

Irina sighed softly, the hint of tension creeping back into her posture. A dinner meeting. Of course, she thought, an uneasy understanding settling in her mind. Her mother, ever strategic, was giving them time—a seemingly generous gesture. But the implication was clear: dinner was a test.

In a noble society, meeting someone over a prolonged meal meant evaluating their manners, their poise, and their command of etiquette. It would be a chance for her mother to watch Astron closely, to observe his every reaction.

"Seems she's not planning to make this easy," Irina murmured, glancing sideways at Astron, who looked unperturbed, his expression as calm as ever.

He noticed her slight frown and raised an eyebrow. "A dinner test?"

"Something like that," she replied, folding her arms. "It's not just a casual meal. In noble society, a dinner invitation like this is a way to measure someone—whether they're aware of the subtle rules, whether they know how to handle themselves for an extended period under scrutiny."

Astron gave a small nod, as if digesting the information, his gaze thoughtful. "So, it's not just a meeting with your mother. It's a prolonged evaluation."

"Exactly," she said, a wry smile crossing her lips. "She wants to see if you can keep up. If you make even one mistake, she'll see it."

"Then I suppose I'll have to be on my best behavior."

"You need to," Irina insisted, her gaze sharp and serious. She didn't want him taking any of this lightly, especially not with her mother. She knew the Matriarch's methods better than anyone; her mother was not someone to underestimate. Every glance, every gesture—nothing would go unnoticed.

Astron's expression narrowed a little, though he remained focused. "I'm not underestimating her," he replied calmly, meeting her eyes. "She's an Archmage, after all." His voice was steady, unwavering. "Just trust me."

Irina's gaze lingered on him, her usual worries easing slightly. His confidence, as always, felt solid, and reassuring. She let out a small sigh, nodding in reluctant acceptance. "Fine," she said, finally relenting. "Now that it's come to this, let's take a look around the mansion. Might as well get you familiar with the place."

Astron nodded, following as she led him down the grand corridors, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors.

She glanced around as they moved, memories flickering in her mind—of the times she'd shown visitors around when she was younger, or how she'd given Julia and Lilia tours of her home whenever they'd visited.

While it was indeed true that she herself never brought outside people here, that did not mean, nobody came to her home after all.

Being an heir to the Emberheart family, she naturally needed to keep some connections.

It felt almost strange to be doing this now, with him of all people. But there was a certain pride in it, too, a subtle sense of belonging she hadn't expected.

Irina guided Astron through the main halls, her steps steady as they moved past the storied portraits of Emberheart family heads. Each one was captured in a way that seemed almost alive, their eyes intense, their postures exuding an unmistakable aura of power and control. She gestured toward them with a slight nod, feeling a strange sense of pride mixed with the weight of her family's legacy.

"These are the previous heads of the Emberheart family," she explained, her voice calm but carrying a note of reverence. "Each of them commanded fire in their own way. The flames you see here… they're not just decorations. They're part of the family's legacy."

As they moved, Astron's gaze lingered on the walls, taking in the intricate engravings that framed each portrait. Flames danced around the edges, but not with the usual chaotic energy of fire. Instead, the blaze was restrained, almost graceful, forming arcs and patterns that seemed to tell a story. The flames shifted in color—deep red, golden orange, and soft amber—casting a warm glow that felt both ancient and eternal.

Irina noticed his interest and couldn't help but feel a quiet satisfaction. "The fire here is different from what we use in combat," she continued, glancing at the engravings as if seeing them anew. "It's… tamed, controlled. Artistic. Our family has always believed that true mastery over fire isn't just about its power, but about its beauty and elegance as well."

Astron's gaze shifted to Irina, an amused glint in his eyes even as his expression remained perfectly neutral. "Heh… For some reason, I'm not so sure," he remarked, his tone casual yet pointed.

Irina instantly caught the underlying jab. She knew exactly what he was implying. Fiery Demoness—that nickname had followed her through countless battles and duels, a title she'd earned for her fierce and unrestrained combat style.

She crossed her arms, tilting her chin up in defiance. "Whatever you think, you're wrong," she shot back, her tone firm. "I have one of the most controlled fires in the entire world."

Astron looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Really?" he replied, deadpan. But the faint spark in his eyes told her he was holding back a laugh.

Irina narrowed her eyes, her lips curving into a challenging smile. "If you doubt it, you're welcome to test it for yourself."

He inclined his head, considering her for a moment. "That might be… for another time, don't you think? If we started, I doubt it would end quickly."

Irina's smirk grew, an unspoken challenge flashing in her gaze. "Indeed. Because I wouldn't stop until I beat you up."

For a moment, they stood in the grand, flame-lit hall, their gazes locked in mutual challenge. The playful banter held an edge of real anticipation, a hint of the rivalry that simmered beneath their relationship. She knew that if it ever came down to a real test, neither of them would back down easily.

"Well," Astron murmured, breaking the silence, "something to look forward to, I suppose."

Irina scoffed, her amusement barely concealed. "Only if you think you can handle it," she replied, a spark of competitive fire lighting her eyes.

"We will see when that time comes."

Irina shook her head, amused by their exchange, before continuing to lead Astron through the Emberheart mansion. The next few places she showed him weren't so much historical as they were powerful displays of her family's influence, subtle reminders of the Emberheart legacy that was woven through every corner of the estate.

They walked through a grand indoor garden, a place entirely dedicated to rare, magical plants that thrived only under carefully controlled flames. Brightly colored flowers with fiery petals bloomed in the enchanted warmth, each one radiating a gentle glow. "These plants are only possible to grow here," Irina explained, her tone casual but with a touch of pride. "The Emberheart flames sustain them—any other heat, and they'd just wither."

Astron observed the garden with interest, his eyes flicking over each bloom. "A reminder of your family's unique mana, then?"

"Exactly," she replied with a smirk. "It's a place only someone from the Emberheart lineage could maintain." The idea clearly pleased her, adding an edge of confidence to her posture as she moved on. Though she had no idea how this guy came from a place filled with special plants like this.

They continued to a long, polished hall lined with glass cases, each one holding a weapon from past Emberheart warriors. "These are all enchanted weapons forged with Emberheart flames," she said, gesturing toward the array of weapons, from slender daggers to massive swords. "The flames strengthen them, binding them to their wielders in a way that's hard to replicate."

Astron's eyes lingered on one particularly grand sword, its blade seeming to pulse with an internal, ember-like glow. "Interesting," he murmured, inspecting it closely. "This one….." n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Irina noticed Astron's gaze fixed on the grand sword, its ember-like glow pulsing as if with a life of its own. A faint smile played on her lips. "Your eyes really are something. That one… belonged to my great-grandfather," she said, her voice carrying a note of reverence. "They called him the Dragon Slayer."

"The Dragon Slayer? Senior Sigurd?"