Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 628

Chapter 628: Chapter 137.6 – The kid
The building was sleek and modern, with its polished glass doors and clean architecture standing in sharp contrast to the dim, empty streets outside. The driver pulled up to the entrance, parking quietly, and I slipped him the fare, giving a curt nod of acknowledgment. He took one final glance at the boy, his eyes lingering for just a second longer, but then he drove off, disappearing into the night.

I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head, adjusting the face mask I had put on earlier to ensure it covered my features fully. There was no need for anyone here to see or remember my face. The registration and payment for the room had already been made in advance under a fake name and ID, and everything was set up for a smooth, untraceable stay.

With the boy trailing behind me in silence, I walked into the lobby. The bright, well-lit interior of the hotel contrasted sharply with the worn streets outside.

“Mister, can I help you with your bags?” The voice of the hotel bellhop caught my attention as I stepped into the lobby. His polite smile seemed rehearsed, but his eyes flicked between me and the boy.

“No need,” I said, keeping my voice low and even, avoiding any eye contact. The less attention, the better.

The bellhop nodded and stepped back, his expression neutral, though I could sense the brief curiosity in his gaze as he looked at the boy again. I moved swiftly past him, not giving him the chance to linger, heading straight for the front desk.

The receptionist greeted me with a professional smile. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Meridian Hotel. May I—”

I cut her off, sliding the reservation details across the counter, my gloved hand ensuring there was no unnecessary exposure. “I’ve got a booking under Tanner Wells,” I said, using the fake name I’d registered with. My voice remained steady, emotionless.

She scanned the details, nodded, and processed everything without so much as a raised eyebrow. “Your room is ready, Mr. Wells. Here’s your keycard,” she said, handing me the card. “Room 312 on the top floor. Let us know if you need anything.”

I nodded, taking the card. “That’s all,” I replied curtly, already turning toward the elevators. The receptionist seemed used to late-night check-ins and didn’t push any further.

As I walked to the elevator, I could feel the boy’s presence behind me—silent, compliant. He was likely exhausted from the ordeal, both mentally and physically. But I didn’t need to focus on that. My job was to get him out and keep him safe until I handed him off.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and we entered, the quiet hum of the machinery filling the silence. I pressed the button for the third floor, glancing briefly at the boy, who stood beside me, staring at the floor.

“312,” I murmured as the doors opened again. We stepped out, and I led the way down the quiet hallway. A swipe of the keycard, a click of the lock, and we were inside the room.

“Mister…” The boy’s voice, small and hesitant, broke the silence just as the door closed behind us.

I paused, turning slightly. His face was still blank, but there was a faint glimmer of confusion in his eyes, maybe even fear.

“You’ll be safe here,” I said, cutting off whatever he might have wanted to ask. There wasn’t time for questions. “Sit down. I’ll treat those injuries, after a quick call.”

The boy obeyed, lowering himself onto the bed without another word.

********

The soft hum of mana-infused lamps cast a muted glow across Reina’s private office, illuminating the piles of documents scattered across her sleek, dark wood desk.

The intricate runes carved into the walls pulsed faintly, a reminder of the magic woven through the very fabric of the Watchers’ headquarters.

Behind her, the tall windows revealed the sprawling complex outside, but tonight, Reina was too tired to care.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, her fingers brushing through her hair, trying to smooth out the tension coiling in her muscles. Her recent mission had been a draining one—dealing with rogue magic users, layers of hidden agendas, and the subtle manipulations of powers she couldn’t afford to underestimate. Even someone like her, who thrived on precision and control, had limits.

On the corner of her desk sat an open bottle, the rich amber liquid inside catching the dim light. It was no ordinary bottle, either. Reina had spent a significant amount to acquire it, a rare blend known for its mana-infused distillation process.

The alcohol was supposed to ease tension and replenish her reserves, though right now, she was just hoping it would dull the weariness clinging to her bones.

She poured herself another glass, watching the liquid swirl before taking a slow sip. The warmth spread through her, a comforting burn that matched the exhaustion pulling at her. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax, letting her shoulders slump as she gazed at the documents spread before her. Reports from her mission, evaluations of new recruits—including Astron—and endless intelligence briefs on emerging threats. There was always more to do, more to plan for.

But tonight, Reina wasn’t rushing.

She lifted the glass to her lips again, savoring the flavor. It was exquisite, smooth with a lingering complexity, much like the layers of the world she navigated daily. She closed her eyes, letting the alcohol work its magic. A faint smirk crossed her lips as she thought of the price she had paid for it—extravagant, perhaps, but a necessary indulgence after the week she had endured.

Her fingers idly tapped one of the documents as she stared at it without really seeing. Her mind drifted back to the mission. The success, the strategic brilliance she had deployed… and then that woman.

“Useless bitch,” she muttered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Her grip tightened around the glass as she recalled the insufferable woman who had caused her endless headaches. High-standing in the government, untouchable by any practical means, and yet utterly incompetent. A stumbling block in every negotiation, a thorn in every plan. Reina had tolerated her because she had to, but the rage still simmered beneath the surface.

‘If it weren’t for her position, I would’ve snapped her neck and left her in a ditch.’

The thought brought a dark satisfaction, but she dismissed it with a sigh. Power, after all, was a game of patience and restraint. Sometimes the pieces you most wanted to remove from the board were the ones you had to keep in play.

Her eyes flicked back to the documents, but her mind lingered on the infuriating memory. The woman’s condescending voice, her pathetic attempts to exert control over situations she couldn’t begin to understand. Reina’s jaw clenched as the tension began to return, and she took another sip of the expensive liquor to steady herself.

Just then, her smartwatch buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down, half-expecting another report or briefing.

But the name on the screen made her pause.

Astron.

Reina raised an eyebrow, her fingers stilling on the glass. ‘Astron? Why would he be contacting me now?’ After all, he had requested time for himself—time she had granted without hesitation. She assumed he’d be focused on his own training, preparing for what lay ahead. It wasn’t like him to reach out unless there was something significant.

A flicker of curiosity tugged at her.

‘What could he possibly want?’

She tapped the screen, answering the call but kept her silence, waiting to hear the reason for his unexpected contact.

‘Don’t tell me?’

She thought of the name, Silas Vayne. She did not know why Astron had wanted to investigate that name, or what he wanted to do.

But she knew one thing.

Astron wasn’t the type to call for trivial matters. Whatever it was, it had to be something related to the organization.

Reina leaned back in her chair, the glass still in hand, her sharp eyes narrowing as she waited for him to speak, the lingering tension from earlier replaced by a quiet anticipation.

Reina tapped the screen, her curiosity rising as she answered the call. The holographic interface flickered to life, casting a soft blue light across her desk. She leaned back in her chair, eyes half-lidded, still holding the glass of alcohol in her hand.

Astron’s face appeared, his expression calm but focused. “Miss Reina,” he greeted her, his voice polite yet direct, as always.

Reina let the silence stretch for a moment before responding, her tone cool but probing. “Astron,” she said slowly, “I wasn’t expecting you to call, especially since you specifically requested to be left alone.” She set the glass down on her desk, her fingers drumming lightly against the wood. “What changed?”

Astron nodded slightly, as though acknowledging the accuracy of her observation. “Yes, just as you expected, I didn’t plan to contact anyone. I needed time to focus,” he said, his words measured. “But something’s come up. I need… assistance.”

Reina’s gaze sharpened. She leaned forward slightly, her fingers now steepled together on the desk. “Assistance? Well, you can ask, and I’ll decide if it’s worth giving.”

Astron paused for a fraction of a second, his face unreadable, and then he dropped the news, his tone still even but with a weight behind it. “Silas Vayne is dead.”

For a moment, Reina said nothing. Her mind, ever calculating, processed the information at lightning speed. Silas Vayne—one of the most elusive and dangerous figures she had kept tabs on, a man who held far too many secrets and power. His death would send shockwaves through the underground and every political structure tied to his influence.

Reina’s expression remained neutral, but inside, her mind raced. ‘Dead? How? This changes everything…’

She narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping in tone, probing once more. “Silas Vayne? You’re certain?” Her fingers itched to reach for the glass, but she resisted, keeping her full attention on Astron.

“That is right. I killed him.”

Reina’s eyes widened at Astron’s words, the neutral mask on her face cracking for a split second. “You killed him?” she repeated, incredulous.

Astron nodded, his expression calm and resolute. “Indeed. Silas Vayne is dead. He was a demon.”

The weight of his statement hung in the air, and Reina felt a headache creeping in, the tension at her temples pulsing. She lifted a hand and massaged her forehead, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Of all the people to eliminate Silas Vayne, she hadn’t expected it to be Astron. And the fact that Vayne had been a demon only made things more complicated.

“Then why,” she said slowly, her tone sharp but weary, “do you need my help, Astron?” She lowered her hand from her forehead, her gaze steady but her patience thin.

In response, Astron shifted slightly and moved out of the way to reveal something on the screen—no, someone. A small child came into view, his eyes wide with an emptiness that Reina recognized too well.

“I found him in Silas Vayne’s room,” Astron said, his voice still calm but carrying a hint of something deeper—perhaps guilt, perhaps responsibility. “The boy was about to be eaten. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

Reina’s eyes flicked between Astron and the child. Her headache worsened, and she pressed her fingers against her temples again.

“A child…?” she murmured, half to herself. Of course, it had to be more complicated than just Silas Vayne’s death. She exhaled slowly and looked back at Astron. “And you want me to take him?”

Astron nodded, his face betraying no emotion. “Yes. I don’t think leaving him here is an option. He has no mana presence, but I’m sure you can find a place for him to stay.”

Reina leaned back in her chair, staring at the screen as she considered the boy.

“This can be done.” she said at last, her voice quieter now. “I’ll arrange something.” She paused, her mind working through the logistics. “Someone will take the boy soon.”

Astron gave a short nod. “I understand.”

Reina stared at the boy for a moment longer, then sighed, her fingers reaching for the glass of alcohol she’d set aside. She took a long sip, already calculating the next steps.

‘Interesting…..If we can get something from the boy, that would be quite fine.’

A witness was a witness as well, regardless of the age.