Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 709

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. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

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.