Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 709 159.4 - The case of plants

The dimly lit office was silent save for the occasional crackle of the secure communication device on Reginald Hawkins's desk. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he listened intently to the distorted voice on the other end of the line. The quality of the connection was poor, the sizzling sound of interference cutting through the words, but the information was clear enough.

The voice was soft but precise, carrying the professionalism of someone well-versed in secrecy. "...Lady Irina Emberheart and the young man left for a trip together. From what I could observe, she didn't bring her usual entourage. No guards, no attendants. It's the least defensive state she's been in for quite some time."

Reginald's lips curled into a thin smile, his sharp eyes glinting with interest. "She left without protection? Bold. Foolish. How long ago was this?"

"Two days," the spy answered, the crackling line momentarily cutting out before stabilizing. "They slipped out of the estate quietly. If not for my position, I wouldn't have noticed."

Reginald leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of his desk. "And where did they go? Did she leave any clues?"

The spy hesitated for a moment, the sizzling of the line growing louder. "I can't say for certain where they've gone, sir. They've been careful about covering their tracks. But I did find something."

"Go on," Reginald said, his voice low and measured.

"When I was cleaning Lady Irina's room, I came across a note. It appeared to be part of her trip plan. I didn't have much time to examine it, but I saw a marking-one name in particular stood out."

"What was it?" Reginald asked, his tone sharp with impatience.

"[Stellamere Museum]," the spy replied. "It was circled. I couldn't make out the rest of the note, but the marking was distinct."

Reginald mulled over the name for a moment, the gears in his mind already turning. "The Stellamere Museum... That's a few days' journey from here, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," the spy confirmed. "It's a relatively secluded area, not one you'd expect someone like Lady Irina to frequent. If they're headed there, it's likely she has a specific purpose."

Reginald nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. A secluded location, far from the protection of the Emberheart estate... This could be exactly the opportunity we need. "Very well," he said at last, his tone decisive. "You've done well. Continue monitoring the estate, and let me know if there are any further developments. Leave the rest to me."

"Yes, sir," the spy replied, and the line went dead with a final hiss of static.

Reginald leaned back in his chair once more, his mind already piecing together the next steps. If Irina was heading to the Stellamere Museum, it was the perfect chance to strike. Without her usual defenses, she would be vulnerable-exposed. And he would ensure that this time, there would be no escape.

Reaching for his desk communicator, he summoned his butler. Moments later, the door to his office opened, and the butler entered, bowing respectfully.

"Prepare a team," Reginald ordered, his voice calm but firm. "We may have found our opening. And send someone to confirm the routes to the Stellamere Museum. I want eyes on every path leading there."

The butler inclined his head. "At once, sir."

Reginald Hawkins sat back in his chair, the dim light from the room casting sharp shadows across his stern face. His mind was a storm of calculations and probabilities, but one fact loomed above all else: this clue, fragile as it was, might be their only chance. Irina Emberheart had left in disguise, and the use of facial artifacts made tracking her through conventional means nearly impossible. Such artifacts were rare and expensive, but with her family's resources, there was no doubt she could afford the best.

The lack of access to the Arcadia Dominion's resources compounded the challenge. As a family rooted in the Valerian Federation, the Hawkins family's reach in this region was limited. Even with their influence, operating so far from their power base was risky and inefficient. Every second spent investigating could mean Irina slipping further out of reach.

Reginald tapped a finger against the desk, his mind working through the limitations. The Stellamere Museum clue wasn't confirmed, but it was the only lead they had. He could dispatch scouts, lay ambushes along the routes, and tighten the net as much as possible-but it might not be enough.

Unless he tipped the scales.

Reginald's lips curled into a cold smile as an idea crystallized. There was something else he could use something that few in the world could even attempt.

"Now that our scope is narrowed down," he muttered, his voice low and deliberate, "let's try to use this."

His hand moved to a drawer in the desk, pulling out a small, intricately engraved crystal orb. The artifact shimmered faintly in the dim light, pulsating with latent mana. It was a tool for magic that transcended ordinary means of investigation-a magic that required precision, mental clarity, and immense focus.

[Foresight].

This rare ability was one that Reginald had honed over decades, a skill so delicate that a single misstep could lead to catastrophic failure. It wasn't infallible, but when used correctly, it offered glimpses into possible futures, shedding light on paths that would otherwise remain shrouded in darkness.

He placed the orb on the desk, the intricate carvings glowing faintly as he began to channel his mana into it. The room darkened further as the artifact drew in his

energy, responding to the complex threads of his will.

"Focus," Reginald murmured to himself, closing his eyes. The world around him seemed to fade, replaced by a vast, swirling void. Within it, faint threads of light began to appear, each one representing a possible outcome tied to Irina's journey.

His mind stretched, reaching for the strands that resonated with the clue he had been given: Stellamere Museum.

Images began to flicker in his mind—a patchwork of blurred possibilities, overlapping and shifting like a kaleidoscope. A quiet forest path. The façade of an old muscum. A young woman with fiery red hair yet at the same time changing? She was walking beside a man whose features remained obscured. The scene shifted again, the museum's silhouette glowing faintly under the evening sun.

'Ah...'

There.

Reginald's concentration deepened, his focus narrowing on the faint image of Irina and her companion. The magic strained under his will, the visions threatening to fracture into incomprehensibility. But he held firm, pushing through the chaotic weave of possibilities to extract what he needed.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

The visions stabilized briefly, and Reginald saw a clearer picture: Irina, her disguise partially lifted, stepping through the museum doors. Beside her, was a man with dark. hair and striking purple eyes. Astron Natusalune. The name came to his mind with an almost audible clarity, tying the threads together.

CRACK!

The vision shattered like a fragile pane of glass, the swirling threads of light fracturing into jagged shards that collapsed inward. Reginald Hawkins gasped, his entire body jolting as if struck by a physical blow. His hands gripped the edges of his desk, knuckles white, as an intense wave of pain exploded through him. It felt as though his very nerves were on fire, the magic rebounding violently within his body. "Argh!" he growled, his voice low and guttural, barely suppressing a scream. His head pounded as if a hammer were driving nails into his skull, and his chest heaved with labored breaths. His vision blurred, the room around him spinning as the aftereffects

of the shattered Foresight gripped him in a vice. Reginald clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain upright despite the searing agony radiating from his core. The backlash from the failed spell was overwhelming,

w

threatening to drag him into unconsciousness, but he refused to yield. His mind, though clouded with pain, latched onto the fragments of insight he had managed to

glean.

Disguise... Stellamere Museum... Astron Natusalune.

The words reverberated in his thoughts, solidifying despite the storm of pain and chaos. The pieces were still there, even if the vision itself had collapsed. He had narrowed down the possibilities, and made sense of Irina's movements, and that alone

was enough to justify the cost.

He let out a slow, shuddering breath, his body trembling as the pain began to subside,

leaving behind a dull, aching throb in its wake. His fingers finally loosened their grip

on the desk, and he leaned back in his chair, sweat beading on his forehead. The effort had taken more out of him than he'd anticipated, but it had also provided him with invaluable direction.

The butler entered the room cautiously, alerted by the muffled sound of Reginald's struggle. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of his master's pale complexion and strained expression, but he said nothing, knowing better than to comment on

Reginald's condition.

"Sir," the butler began, his voice carefully measured, "is everything... under control?"

Reginald waved a hand dismissively, his usual commanding tone slightly weakened.

"It's done. I've seen enough." He paused, taking another steadying breath. "Irina... She's using a disguise. Likely an artifact to mask her appearance. That's why she's been so

hard to trace."

The butler nodded, quickly taking in the information. "And the Stellamere Museum?"

"She's heading there," Reginald confirmed, his voice gaining strength as he pushed past the residual pain. "That much I'm certain of. And she's with him. Astron

Natusalune."

The butler's expression darkened slightly at the mention of the name. "The boy who was seen with her before? The one who-"

"Yes," Reginald interrupted sharply. "The very same. He's the key to all of this." He closed his eyes briefly, the fragmented images of the vision flashing in his mind. "They'll likely arrive at the museum soon if they aren't already there. Prepare

everything."

"Understood, sir." The butler hesitated for moment before adding, "Shall I arrange for

you to rest? The strain from-

"No," Reginald snapped, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. "There's no time for rest. Not now. We've already lost enough ground."

The butler bowed and left to carry out the orders, leaving Reginald alone in the dimly lit room once more. He exhaled slowly, the ache in his body a constant reminder of the cost of his actions. Yet, in his mind, the clarity of his findings outweighed the pain.

*****

On the other side, Irina and Astron had finished another day in a different city together, continuing their date.

And just like that they were once again in a high-class train, as Irina had prepared her

whole plan.

"Heh...."

And she could finally go somewhere she had been wanting to go for a while.

'Stellamare Museum....Here I come!"

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