Novel Full Chapter 1077 - 256.1 - Supervisor
Chapter 1077: Chapter 256.1 – Supervisor
She tilted her head slightly, walking a few paces forward as Astron struggled to rise, hand pressed to his chest.
“How was it?”
Astron didn’t answer immediately. He coughed once—wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“…Heavy,” he muttered.
But something in his expression twisted—not confusion, but a pinched discomfort at the edge of perception. That strike… it felt like it carried something more.
Unfamiliar.
Not just a martial echo or a mana strike—but something subtly misaligned. As if the frequency of her mana had shifted mid-blow. Not enough to analyze. Not enough to identify. Just enough to make his instincts crawl.
Dakota noticed.
She watched his eyes for a moment longer before speaking again.
“Something bothering you?” she asked, tossing a glowing vial underhand.
—CLINK.
Astron caught it mid-air.
He didn’t respond immediately, just cracked the seal and drank.
The healing potion flushed through him, working fast. Bones groaned back into place. Breath returned.
Still, he was silent.
Dakota walked forward, hands slipping into the pockets of her training coat now slung over her shoulder.
Then she stopped beside him.
Dakota exhaled slowly, the sharp edge of her earlier stance now folded into something quieter—measured, introspective. She turned her head slightly, glancing down at Astron as he pushed himself up onto one knee.
“From what I’ve heard,” she murmured, “you won’t be stationed here long.”
Her gaze didn’t waver.
“That’s why I showed you that.”
Astron looked up.
Dakota’s eyes gleamed—not with pride or mockery, but with something rawer. More personal.
“Yes. Since you’re a monster when it comes to learning…” Her lips curled into a wry smirk, “Why not use that monstrosity of yours?”
She took a step forward, stopping just beside him—her presence no longer towering, but anchoring.
“Remember this moment,” she said, her voice lower now, almost a whisper. “That strike. That technique. [Serpent Echo] is just the surface.”
She tapped two fingers against his shoulder—gently, but deliberately.
“Try to make something from it. Knowing you…” Her tone sharpened, faint with amusement, “…it won’t take you long to crack it open.”
Then she smiled—not the formal, composed one, but the kind that left a shadow of fire in its wake.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Astron held her gaze.
And in that instant, he saw it.
Not the mentor.
Not the composed overseer from Sector B11.
But the Awakened from the borders, forged in survival. The soldier who’d lost her teammates in the Riftlines. The fighter who buried her past in muscle memory and silence.
But now—he saw something stirring.
Something she’d locked away for a long time.
A fire.
It flickered behind her eyes—not the restrained discipline of an instructor, but the glint of someone who had just remembered she loved the fight. Not out of duty.
But out of thrill.
So she’s not just training Adepts anymore…
Astron’s eyes scanned her body with instinctual precision—the slight tightness in her fists, the twitch of a muscle still charged with mana, the sharpness in her breath not from fatigue, but exhilaration.
She wasn’t cooling down.
She was winding up.
Something inside her had awoken.
And though she didn’t say it aloud, Astron understood.
Astron’s chest rose once—slow, steady—as the last of the healing potion settled into his bloodstream.
The pain was gone.
But the echo of her strike still lingered.
Not in the ribs. Not in the bones.
In the memory.
A strike like that wasn’t something the body forgot.
It was something the instincts filed away—for future judgment.
His gaze flicked up to Dakota again.
Her frame was still relaxed. But everything about her stood primed. The set of her jaw, the slant of her shoulders, the way her heels rooted to the ground as if the arena had become part of her. It wasn’t a stance anymore. It was intent. Sharpened. Reclaimed.
Astron exhaled once through his nose.
A quiet snort.
Amused. Dry.
Then—without standing yet, still crouched on one knee—he spoke.
“We’ll see about that.”
Dakota tilted her head, smirk sharpening. “There it is.”
She stepped back with a slow stretch, rolling one shoulder until it cracked. The fabric of her coat creaked faintly with the motion.
Then—quietly—she shifted her weight to one side and spoke without facing him.
“You’re here for those gates, aren’t you?”
The question wasn’t loud.
Wasn’t accusatory.
Just real.
Clear.
The kind of statement made not as an interrogation—but as an acknowledgment. From one fighter to another.
Astron’s expression didn’t change. Not outwardly.
But behind his eyes, his thoughts stirred.
So she knows.
It made sense. She was quite high ranked in the Organization after all.
Dakota didn’t look at him—her eyes were now on the far side of the training chamber, where light poured faintly in from the glyph-paneled vents near the ceiling. But her voice carried all the same.
“Only cadets are getting in, right?” Dakota said, her gaze still distant—watching the far wall, as if her thoughts were somewhere beyond the chamber’s borders.
Then her voice shifted—lower, quieter, but grounded with meaning.
“…The ones I’ve been training—they’ll be among them too.”
She exhaled once, the breath controlled. “Figured as much when I saw the lists forming. But now that you’ve returned…”
She glanced over her shoulder, one brow raised, just enough to make the rest clear.
“…I understand the timing.”
Astron met her gaze, silent for a moment.
Then—he nodded.
“How many of the trainees are going?” he asked, voice even.
Dakota shook her head slowly, straightening her posture. “No idea. The final count hasn’t been confirmed yet.”
She rolled her neck, then crossed her arms again. “That decision’s on Reina. She’s the one doing the allocations.”
Astron’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes narrowed slightly at the mention.
“…She’s still not back?”
“Apparently busy.” Dakota’s lips twisted slightly. “Dealing with external transfers and clearance reports. Something about a closed-channel incident near Riftline West.”
Astron’s gaze dropped for a beat. Then he stood.
Fully this time.
No stagger. No wince. The potion had done its job, but the ache of that final blow remained—burning more in instinct than flesh.
“I’m waiting on Reina too,” he said.
Dakota’s brow lifted a fraction. “That so?”
He gave a slight nod. “My clearance, deployment slate… everything’s frozen until she signs off. That, and—” he paused, “—there are some things only she can authorize.”
Dakota hummed softly under her breath. It wasn’t agreement. It wasn’t dismissal. It was the sound of someone filing away information for later.
Dakota’s lips quirked into a faint smile at Astron’s words, the kind that settled between amusement and quiet understanding.
“Of course,” she murmured. “Reina would be the one holding your leash.”
She turned just slightly, eyes narrowing with something almost nostalgic.
“She’s always been particular with her projects.”
Astron didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
They both knew Reina wasn’t the type to waste her time on someone unless there was something worth investing in.
But before either of them could say more—
—BEEP—BEEP.
A sharp, pulsing chime buzzed against Astron’s wrist.
He glanced down.
His watch interface flared briefly—Reina’s ID signature glowing across the display in tight, golden runes. Encrypted. Direct.
Dakota let out a low, short breath through her nose, then tilted her head with a smirk.
“Well,” she said dryly, “speak of the devil.”