Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 629

Chapter 629 138.1 - A realization

After the call ended, the faint glow from the holographic interface on my smartwatch faded, leaving the room in relative silence, save for the soft hum of the mana-infused lamps. I leaned back slightly, letting out a quiet exhale, my thoughts briefly lingering on Reina's reaction.

Silas Vayne, dead—and a demon, no less. That would cause ripples, and I had no doubt that Reina would be working behind the scenes to ensure things went as smoothly as possible.

After all that was the reason why I had mentioned this directly to Reina herself. I could have kept it hidden as well if I had wanted but with the information-gathering capacity that the organization had, it wouldn't be too long until they would find he was dead even if the demons tried to cover it.

After finding it out, it wouldn't be hard to suspect me as I had recently just requested the information regarding Silas Vayne from them. And the fact that I did not mention that could mean I did not trust them and sufficiently that would make them not trust me either.

So eventually, talking about this would be more beneficial in the long run, and at the same time, the boy would also be taken care of soon enough.

Until then, there were still things to be done.

I glanced at the boy, who sat obediently on the bed, his blank stare still fixed on the floor. He hadn't moved since the call and hadn't uttered a word. His small frame seemed even more fragile in the dim light of the hotel room, the bruises and cuts standing out in stark contrast against his pale skin.

With practiced efficiency, I retrieved the first aid kit from my spatial storage. It wasn't anything extravagant—just basic supplies, but more than enough for the task at hand. I knelt in front of the boy, pulling out gauze, antiseptic, and some bandages.

My hands moved with precision, already well-versed in the art of treating wounds manually. Potions were faster, sure, but sometimes it was better to do things the old-fashioned way.

Besides, I doubted the boy would handle the sudden shock of a mana-infused potion in his system right now.

"Hold still," I said quietly, not bothering to wait for a response. I doubted I'd get one anyway.

I gently lifted his arm, inspecting the bruises along his forearm. The injuries were minor compared to what I'd seen before, but they still needed attention. I worked quickly, cleaning the cuts and applying antiseptic. The boy winced slightly but didn't make a sound. His eyes remained unfocused, staring past me, lost in whatever dark place his mind had retreated to.

I moved on to his other arm, then his legs, working methodically. The bruises on his ribs were deeper, and I could tell he'd been struck there more than once. It made me pause for a second, but I pushed the thought aside and continued. The soft rustling of bandages and the quiet clinking of tools were the only sounds that filled the room.

Once I finished wrapping the last bandage, I stood up and put the kit away, my movements efficient and purposeful. The boy hadn't moved an inch. He remained silent, still staring at nothing.

"You're done," I said, pulling off my gloves and tossing them aside. "Get some rest. Someone will come for you soon."

The boy blinked slowly, his gaze briefly flickering toward me before it drifted back down to the floor. He didn't respond, but I hadn't expected him to.

'The organization will take care of him anyway. And there is a high chance that they will also get some information from him as well.'

There were countless professions in this world, each with its own unique set of skills, spells, and abilities. I'd come across many of them in my time, from elemental mages to artifact forgers, but one particular field had always piqued my interest: mind magic—or more precisely, psychic magic.

It was a rare art, one that allowed its practitioners to delve deep into the recesses of the mind. And at its highest levels, it gave the ability to peer into another person's memories, extracting information as easily as pulling a book from a shelf.

[Memory Mining], they called it.

I had no doubt that the organization had at least one expert who could perform this feat. They wouldn't waste an opportunity to gather useful information from the boy, especially given the circumstances.

He had been raised by demons, or at least demon contractors, that much was clear. His blank stare, his mechanical obedience—it all pointed to conditioning, to the kind of treatment that would leave his mind ripe for such exploration.

They'd probe his mind, look for anything useful—like the location of the facility where he had been raised, or any information about those who had kept him. Demons didn't just abduct children for no reason. There was always a plan and a structure to their methods. And demon contractors were even more methodical, their operations shrouded in secrecy but driven by the insidious hunger for power and control.

I knew this well. I had studied them extensively.

They took people, usually children, and molded them into tools. It was rare for someone like the boy to survive without any trace of mana in their body, but that only made him more interesting—more valuable to those looking for leverage against the demons.

The organization wouldn't miss that.

As I stood by the window, gazing out at the darkened city, I thought back to my own research into psychic magic.

It was a field I had only touched the surface of, but I understood its potential. In the hands of someone skilled enough, memories weren't just fragments of the past—they were weapons, they were secrets. And in this world, secrets held power.

'But well, even if they don't find anything, I doubt that they will not find any use for him. He can become a clerk or some sort of normal personnel either.' I glanced at the boy one last time. His small figure was hunched slightly, his gaze still fixed on nothing.