Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 644

Chapter 644: Chapter 141.3 – Finding the Dungeon
I tightened my grip on the necklace, letting my focus narrow to the faint psions of mana within it. Traces of the Void Dragon’s ancient power were entwined in its essence, subtle but distinct if one knew where to look.

This dungeon wouldn’t just reveal itself—it was too well-concealed for that. Even if the Federation’s detectors were scouring every inch of the city, this magic was designed to slip past passive detection.

The seal meant to protect it from intruders likely had a backdoor, a flaw however small. Seals, however strong, needed some form of escape valve—a leeway, no matter how minute, that would allow the keyholder to access the contents within.

My goal was to hone in on that sliver, to pick up on the one psion out of place. It was more than a detection effort; it was a hunt for a misplaced signature in a forest of similar noise.

I concentrated, actively pushing my own mana outward in a refined wave. My [Eyes] narrowed in, filtering out the ambient hum of the city’s mana and focusing only on the specific resonance within the necklace.

I sifted through it carefully, guiding my mana to latch onto the unique, elusive thread that would reveal any disturbance—a subtle tear in the air, a whisper that would lead me closer.

There, among the countless threads of mana, I felt it. A faint tremor, like a thread just a degree out of alignment. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—the mana pulse of the seal, winding like a thread beneath layers of cloaking enchantments.

The pulse grew clearer as I focused, like catching the faint glint of a needle buried in shadows. I let my mana resonate with the disturbance, amplifying the slight tremor and following its direction.

Each step I took, still cloaked in shadow, narrowed down the path toward that hidden entry point, concealed so deeply within the city’s fabric that it almost seemed a part of it.

‘This is it,’ I thought, maintaining the steady rhythm of [Shadowborne] as I descended from the rooftop. I slipped silently from ledge to ledge, shadows veiling my movements as I made my way down.

The city had no idea what was hidden within it—a layer of magic so ancient and camouflaged that even the Federation’s monitoring wouldn’t detect it. That was the advantage of old magic, woven from threads of power as subtle as they were powerful.

When I finally touched the ground, I checked the area around me before stepping from the alley. The signature led north, through the city’s less-populated districts. As I walked, the necklace’s resonance continued, guiding me.

The mana thread continued, faint but persistent, until I reached a narrow, quiet street lined with unmarked buildings. The mana pulse flickered here, the resonance from the necklace intensifying as if it had found a natural anchor point.

I stopped in my tracks, feeling the necklace’s resonance intensify, each pulse now in sync with my heartbeat. Lifting my head, I let my gaze sweep over the narrow street before me, taking in every detail.

Shops lined one side of the street, their faded signs and worn facades fitting the general disuse of the area. A few streetlights dotted the walkway, casting muted halos of light over the cracked pavement.

Small trees framed each side, their branches reaching out like dark fingers against the overcast sky. The design of the pavement—subtle markings along the edges, the textures underfoot—all of it struck a chord.

And then it clicked.

This was it. The same street, the same exact scene I’d seen in that cutscene from the game, burned into my memory.

Every detail replayed in my mind: the appearance of the gate, tearing open reality as the Void Dragon emerged, its roar filling the screen and setting the Western Region’s destruction into motion. It was unmistakable.

The match wasn’t perfect—some details were different, no doubt due to the five-year gap from the original timeline. Shops had new signs, streetlights had been replaced or moved, and minor changes had been made to the layout of the area. But it was close enough to confirm.

‘An %88 match. That is enough.’

I stepped back, taking in the narrow street where the necklace’s resonance had intensified, grounding itself in the air around me like an invisible marker. Each pulse aligned with my own heartbeat, the rhythmic thrum an unmistakable signal that I’d arrived at the entry point.

But something was off. I scanned the street again, expecting security, wards, maybe even a concealed barrier—yet the street remained deserted, unguarded, almost welcoming. The faint glow of the necklace still resonated steadily, as though daring me to reach through the thin veil of reality that hid the dungeon.

‘Strange,’ I thought, slipping a hand into my pocket. For a place holding something as volatile as the Void Dragon, there should’ve been a sign of protection—an invisible ward, a rune, even a subtle enchantment marking this as a danger zone. But there was nothing. Just the quiet, mundane pulse of an old street, unchanged to the eye.

I focused my mana into my [Eyes], allowing their sharpness to pierce through the buildings and surrounding structures. The ability revealed hidden paths, mana flows, and even concealed figures when used with precision. My vision expanded, tunneling beyond the walls and through the shadows cast by the dim streetlights, my mana sweeping the area for any sign of surveillance.

Nothing.

There were no guards lying in wait, no mana signatures marking hidden watchers, no latent spells woven into the structures around me. The space was clean—too clean. Almost deliberately so. It was as though whoever had concealed the dungeon wanted it overlooked, hidden not by force but by simplicity.

This lack of security, though seemingly ideal, only raised my suspicion. My instincts warned me that this could be a trap, something set up to lull intruders into a false sense of ease before springing on them unawares.

‘Then again, perhaps the Void Clan trusted their magic enough to hide this place without guards,’ I mused, keeping my focus sharp as I stepped forward, tracing the faint trail of mana pulsing from the necklace.

The Void Dragon’s gate wasn’t meant to be easily found, but its concealment spell, now woven into the fabric of this unassuming street, felt almost… resigned as if the city had simply grown around it over centuries.

‘Well, that is one way to hide things.’

I took a breath, letting the weight of the necklace’s mana signature guide me, each step narrowing my focus until the concealment magic’s threads started to come into view, faint but unmistakable.

The threads of mana began to weave more distinctly as if they were strands pulling me forward, guiding me closer with every step. I followed them through the narrow street, my presence cloaked in shadows until I reached the entrance of a small, unassuming shop nestled between two worn brick buildings. Its modest wooden sign hung slightly askew, reading “Barker’s Market” in faded, peeling letters.

The shop’s interior was dimly lit, shelves lined with goods ranging from fresh produce to dusty jars of herbs.

It felt oddly peaceful, the kind of place locals frequented without a second thought. Behind the counter stood an older man, his silver hair cropped short, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp, assessing every detail of his shop with quiet precision.

I moved through the narrow aisles, my movements as silent as the shadows wrapping around me, taking in each row of goods until the faint tug of mana guided me further in. I let the threads lead me to the back, where the shelves grew more crowded and disorganized, holding a mix of supplies that seemed largely untouched.

Finally, I stopped before a shelf lined with jars of dried roots and an assortment of old, worn containers. The necklace pulsed faintly in my hand, the mana threads intensifying around this spot. I reached out, extending my senses as I examined the shelf closely, looking beyond the surface appearance. The mana resonance here was unmistakable—a subtle distortion in the space itself, like a hidden layer lying just beneath reality.

‘I see.’

I studied the shelf, a mismatched collection of old magazines, journals, and books collecting dust in the dim corner of the shop. Most were faded relics from the past, their spines cracked and covers yellowed with age, untouched for what looked like years. But as I scanned over them, one magazine caught my eye—a women’s magazine nestled between stacks of old almanacs and gardening manuals.

Unlike the others, this magazine had a faintly creased cover, its edges slightly worn, as if it had been handled recently. A thin layer of dust clung to the shelf and the other books, yet a subtle, almost invisible line of cleaner wood framed the spot where the magazine had rested, betraying recent movement. The page corners bore the faintest sign of oil from fingerprints, and the magazine was angled just slightly off-center, unlike its neighbors, suggesting someone had pulled it out, perhaps more than once, before carefully replacing it.

‘Curious choice of reading material,’ I thought, letting my eyes drift over the cover before reaching out to take it in hand.

As my fingers brushed the spine, a faint pulse of mana resonated from the spot, almost as if something within the magazine itself was charged. I kept my grip firm, allowing my senses to reach out as I carefully pulled the magazine from the shelf, watching for any fluctuation in the surrounding mana.

I thumbed through the pages, each turn of the glossy paper revealing nothing but fashion ads and tips on gardening—a sharp contrast to the inconspicuous aura it emitted. But as I reached the center fold, I sensed it—a thin, hidden strip of runic markings etched along the spine. It was nearly invisible, the ancient symbols woven into the magazine’s binding with delicate precision, marking this as more than just an ordinary item.

‘A key disguised in plain sight,’ I mused, tracing my finger along the subtle engraving, feeling the mana hum in response.

I concentrated, pushing a small amount of my mana along the markings. The runes glowed faintly, and a ripple passed through the air around me as if reality itself had shifted. The space behind the shelf wavered for a moment before peeling away, revealing a hidden doorway that had been cloaked beneath layers of concealment magic.

‘The Void Clan certainly had their methods.’

The doorway led downward, its stone steps descending into the shadows. I placed the magazine back carefully, my gaze fixed on the dark path that awaited below. With a final glance around the quiet shop, I stepped forward, the shadows swallowing me as I crossed the threshold into the hidden depths below Barker’s Market.