Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 655

Chapter 655 144.3 - Finally

'What if it could be more adaptive?' The answer was clear. Morphium. When I was first thinking about this matter, the material that came to my mind was Morphium—a rare, highly versatile metal capable of adjusting form instantly, blending with other compounds to enhance durability while allowing a controlled, shape-shifting ability. With Morphium woven into the design, the vehicle wouldn't just withstand harsh terrains; it would mold to them.

But I kept my thoughts to myself, letting the idea simmer. Kieran had come a long way with his concept, and I wanted him to complete his current design before introducing this layer of complexity. Pushing him too soon might disrupt his focus, and there was no point in suggesting Morphium until he'd perfected the initial prototype. 'Dealing with Morphium is not something that any engineer has been able to do so far. It was only that old man….that I had seen creating a weapon like Celestalith.'

The idea of Morphium lingered in my mind, its potential undeniable. I'd seen it used only once before–who'd somehow managed to forge the rare metal into a weapon that could change form at will, an artifact as unique as it was powerful. That old man had also created my weapon, Celestalith, a weapon that few could comprehend, let alone replicate. His knowledge of Morphium's nuances had been unparalleled.

But Kieran wasn't ready for that level of complexity. Introducing Morphium now might overshadow his own creativity, guiding him down a path that was, ultimately, not his own. Inspiration had a fragile nature; revealing Morphium's capabilities too soon could close off the avenues he might otherwise explore. Kieran had the potential to innovate, to forge something unique from his own experience with mana cores and adaptive enchantments. And if he could, it would open doors—not just for himself, but for the entire Federation.

If Kieran developed his own solution to adaptability, it could pave the way for more accessible, practical models for Federation use. And, in the long run, that accessibility might lead to advancements far beyond the elite few who could wield Morphium. It was better this way, to let him find his footing and discover his own path.

I leaned back, the cityscape outside blurring past. Kieran's eagerness to refine his prototype was promising. I'd wait and see where his ideas led.

Kieran's voice brought me back from my thoughts. "Well, that's all for now," he said, his tone tinged with lingering excitement. "I'll call you when I've finished the prototype or if I have any questions along the way."

I nodded, keeping my expression calm but allowing a hint of approval to seep through. "I'll be waiting."

"Got it," Kieran replied, a faint grin in his voice. The line clicked, and the hologram faded from my watch screen, leaving only the faint glow of the city's early morning light filtering into the cab. freewēbnoveℓ.com

As the call ended, I let my gaze linger on the watch for a moment longer, thoughts swirling. Kieran's progress was impressive, and his enthusiasm was both refreshing and rare. Given time and space, he'd undoubtedly surprise me further—and that was precisely what I intended to see.

The driver glanced back at me, catching my eye in the rearview mirror as I ended the call. Like most professionals, he'd activated the privacy formation the moment the call came in. It was a standard courtesy—an ambient barrier that kept conversations within the passenger area completely private. As useful as it was, it also served as a reminder of how far privacy measures had come here in the Federation.

Soon enough, we reached the city center. I slipped out of the taxi, giving the driver a nod, then turned toward the large structure that dominated the area: the Teleportation Center. It loomed like a fortress of smooth stone and glass, humming faintly with the energy of hundreds of interconnected portals leading to cities across the Federation.

With my business here concluded, Arcadia City was my next stop. The Center's doors slid open as I approached, revealing a bustling lobby filled with travelers, traders, and guild representatives waiting to warp. I approached the main console

I made my way through the lobby, weaving past clusters of travelers and merchants who lingered by the ticketing desks. Reaching the counter, I presented my ID to the personnel—a young woman with a sharp gaze and a practiced efficiency in her movements. She glanced down at my ID, her eyes flickering over the insignia of the Arcadia Hunter Academy.

"Ah, a cadet," she said, nodding as she swiped the ID through her console. "Teleportation to Arcadia City is free for Academy cadets. Let me print your ticket, Mr. Natusalune."

A faint beep signaled my ID's confirmation, and within moments, she handed me the ticket. She pressed a button, speaking into her communicator. "A12, please escort Mr. Natusalune to Gate 3."

Almost immediately, another personnel—a tall man with the designation A12 embroidered on his uniform—appeared from a nearby corridor. He gave me a courteous nod.

I thought, glancing down at the confirmation slip Irina had arranged. With their influence in Arcadia Dominion, the process was smooth—practically effortless on my end. Irina had handled every detail, securing the permissions and filling out the paperwork without so much as a reminder to me. For an outsider, gaining access to Etheria Haven was typically a lengthy ordeal, reserved for high-ranking mages, scholars, or those with verifiable contributions to magic studies. But with the Emberhearts pulling the strings, everything had fallen neatly into place

However, there was one condition: limited access to the teleportation gate. Even with Irina's preparations, it would only open at set times, and my slot wasn't until 1 P.M. A sensible precaution, considering Arcadia Dominion's wariness of outside influence. For now, that meant time to spare.

Settling back into my seat at the café, I pulled out a book I'd recently acquired on [Psychic Magic]. The subject was often overlooked, but it had its merits—especially when one delved into the subtler aspects of manipulation, communication, and influence. Though not directly tied to my abilities, I was keen on integrating aspects of it into my techniques.

The book's title, "The Mind's Labyrinth," hinted at its depth. I flipped through the pages, my attention drawn to sections on mental fortification and projection. Psychic Magic relied on tapping into the mind's inherent energy, creating extensions of thought and will that could influence, shield, or even alter perceptions. Useful for encounters with those less versed in mental defenses, as well as situations requiring discretion.

'Mental fortification… useful,' I noted, scanning a passage on shielding one's consciousness. Psychic Magic was less about raw power and more about control, intention, and precision—qualities I valued in any discipline. The text spoke of layers within the mind, comparing it to a labyrinth. By understanding each layer, a practitioner could manipulate not only their own thoughts but those of others, constructing barriers, illusions, and projections.

I let myself sink into the book, page after page detailing techniques and practices for honing these mental abilities. The hours passed quietly, the faint chatter and ambient noise of the café providing a steady backdrop. When I glanced up at the clock, it was nearing noon, and a reminder to head to the teleportation gate soon ticked into my mind.

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And then, following that the time came.