Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 729: Chapter 166.1 - Interrogation



"Indeed.....You are dead."

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the small warehouse, shaking its flimsy walls and filling the space with smoke and debris. Rovan and the executives were thrown off balance, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons as their ears rang from the force of the blast.

Through the smoke, a figure emerged, cloaked in an orange aura that shimmered like molten sunlight. Her red, short hair floated weightlessly, as if carried by an unseen wind, and flames coiled around her hands, licking the air with deadly intent.

"Irina Emberheart!" one of the executives choked out, his voice a mixture of disbelief and terror.

Irina's amber eyes burned with cold fury, her steps measured and deliberate as she advanced into the room. The firelight around her cast dancing shadows against the walls, amplifying her already commanding presence.

"How did you find us?" Rovan demanded, his voice steadier than he felt. His mind raced for an escape, for any chance to salvage the situation. But deep down, he already knew there was

none.

Irina tilted her head slightly, her expression almost bored. "Did you really think you could run from me?" she asked, her voice low and cutting. "After what you tried to pull at the museum? You should've known better."

Her words sent a chill through the room, and Rovan clenched his jaw, his gaze darting toward his subordinates. We need time, he thought desperately. Anything to figure out a way out of this. "Listen," the scarred man said quickly, stepping forward with his hands raised. "We-we didn't mean for things to escalate like that. It was just business. We were hired-"

"Business?" Irina interrupted, her voice laced with venom. Her hand shot forward, and a whip of fire lashed out, striking the ground inches from the man's feet. The flames roared upward, forming a wall that forced him back. "Do you think I care about your excuses?"

The stocky woman, her face pale, tried to edge toward the door, but Irina's sharp gaze snapped to her. With a flick of her wrist, another burst of fire erupted, cutting off the woman's escape route.

The stocky woman, her face pale, tried to edge toward the door, but Irina's sharp gaze snapped to her. With a flick of her wrist, another burst of fire erupted, cutting off the woman's escape route.

"You don't get to walk away from this," Irina said coldly, stepping further into the room. The flames surrounding her seemed to grow brighter, hotter, as if feeding on her anger. "Not after what you tried to do."

Rovan's hand moved to the hilt of his weapon, his mind racing. "You're making a mistake," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Killing us will only bring more trouble to your doorstep. We're not the real threat."

Irina laughed, a cold, mirthless sound that sent a shiver through the room. "Killing you isn't the goal. No, I want you alive-for now. But you will suffer."

Before anyone could react, Irina moved. She was a blur of motion, her flames surging forward in waves that seemed to consume the very air. The first executive tried to raise a defense, activating an artifact on his wrist, but the fire overwhelmed him, sending him crashing to the ground with a scream.

The stocky woman lunged for her weapon, but Irina was faster. A blast of fire struck her square in the chest, throwing her against the wall, where she crumpled in a heap, coughing and gasping for air.

Rovan drew his blade, a finely crafted weapon etched with anti-magic runes, and charged at Irina with a desperate cry. But she sidestepped him effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise. She spun, her hand blazing with fire, and slammed it into his back. The impact sent him sprawling, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

"You're outmatched," Irina said, her voice as scorching as the flames around her. "You never stood a chance."

Just like that, she had unleashed her flames....

*******

One by one, the remaining executives fell. The scarred man tried to fight back, his dagger glinting in the firelight, but Irina disarmed him with ease, a jet of flame sending him sprawling. The younger executive, trembling, dropped to his knees, his hands raised in surrender, but even he was engulfed in a ring of fire that left him paralyzed with fear. Within moments, the room was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and scorched wood. Fire roared around the warehouse, casting flickering shadows over the defeated figures of Rovan and his team. They lay scattered across the floor, bruised, burned, and utterly beaten. Irina stood over them, her flames receding slightly but still crackling with energy. Her gaze swept across the room, her expression one of cold satisfaction.

The acrid smell of smoke and charred wood filled the air, a testament to the destruction she had unleashed. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she surveyed her handiwork.

'Not bad,' she thought, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Satisfaction bloomed in her chest, but it was fleeting. Her flames dimmed slightly, retreating to faint embers along her fingertips, but the fury in her hazel eyes hadn't abated. 'It's not enough. Not yet.'

Her gaze swept over the fallen figures. They were alive, but barely-groaning, coughing, and too battered to fight back. Rovan, the apparent leader whose name she had heard in the midst of the fight, lay slumped against a crate, his weapon knocked from his grip and his breaths labored. His eyes burned with defiance even as he winced in pain. The others weren't in much better shape: bruised, burned, and utterly beaten.

Irina's smirk faded as the weight of unanswered questions pressed down on her. "There's no way they pulled this off without help. No way they had the resources or the foresight to predict I'd be here. Even my mother didn't know I'd be in this city, let alone the museum.'

Her thoughts sharpened, anger flaring anew as she stepped closer to Rovan. 'Someone's backing them. Someone with power, resources, and enough audacity to think they could take me down.'

Rovan's head tilted up slightly as she approached, his breathing ragged but his gaze defiant. Irina crouched in front of him, her flames flaring briefly in her palm before she snuffed them out with a flick of her fingers. She leaned in, her voice low and dangerous. "You've got one chance to make this easy for yourself, Rovan. Who's pulling your strings?"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Rovan's lips twisted into a pained smirk. "You think I'll just—"

Before he could finish, Irina's hand shot forward, her flames reigniting in a searing whip that licked dangerously close to his face. He flinched, his defiance faltering for the briefest

moment.

"Wrong answer," Irina said coldly, her flames retreating but still pulsing in her palm. "You're not in a position to play games with me. You've already lost. Now, talk." Rovan's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to the others in the room as if searching for some kind of escape or support. But the sight of his incapacitated team offered no hope. He sighed, his defiance giving way to reluctant pragmatism. "Fine," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "But I

don't know much."

"Try harder," Irina snapped, her flames surging again as she straightened to her full height. "Your equipment, your tactics-someone gave you the tools to come after me. And they knew exactly where I'd be. Who was it?"

Rovan swallowed hard, the heat from her flames forcing him to shield his face. "We... we were hired. A contact, anonymous. They never gave us their name, just a token—a sigil."

Irina's eyes narrowed. "A sigil?"

Rovan nodded weakly, fumbling in his coat pocket. He produced a small, scorched medallion, its surface engraved with an intricate design of flames encircling a crescent moon. Irina snatched it from his hand, her brows furrowing as she turned it over in her palm. The metal was warm to the touch, and a faint trace of mana pulsed within it.

"This," she said, her voice low. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know!" Rovan said quickly, fear creeping into his voice. "It was the only thing they left us. Instructions came through encrypted scrolls, and payments were deposited through untraceable accounts. We never met them face-to-face."

Irina's flames flared again, her frustration boiling over. "You're telling me you risked everything on the word of someone you've never met? How stupid are you?"

"We didn't have a choice!" Rovan protested, his voice cracking. "They knew too much about us-about me, my team. It wasn't a job we could refuse."

Irina stared down at him, her fury simmering as her thoughts raced. 'This wasn't just business

for them. Whoever hired these idiots made sure they couldn't back out. But why go through all this trouble? What's their endgame?'

Her gaze swept over the other executives, her lips curling into a cold smirk as her flames danced brighter around her. "Looks like I'll have to try my luck with the rest of your friends,"

she said, her voice laced with menace.

One of the other executives, the younger one who had dropped to his knees earlier, whimpered audibly. "P-please," he stammered, his hands trembling as he raised them in surrender. "I'll tell you what I know! Just don't... don't burn me!"

Irina turned toward him, her smirk widening as she took a slow step closer. "Good," she said,

her flames licking the air menacingly. "Because I'm not done yet."

And so, with her flames crackling like a predator circling its prey, Irina began her interrogation in earnest, determined to uncover the truth behind the attack-and to ensure

that those who dared target her would regret it.

The acrid scent of smoke and scorched metal filled the air, punctuated by the whimpers and pleas of her battered captives. She leaned over the younger man, her flames licking dangerously close to his trembling hands.

"Start talking," she demanded, her voice low and cutting. "Who hired you? What else do you

know?"

"I-I don't know their name!" he stammered, his eyes darting nervously between her and the still-burning embers near his feet. "They gave us instructions through encrypted scrolls. Payment was guaranteed, and there was no way to track them."

Irina narrowed her eyes, her flames flaring briefly before dimming again. "Pathetic," she muttered, turning to the stocky woman who still clutched her side from an earlier blow. Irina crouched in front of her, tilting her head slightly as she studied the woman's face. "And you? Do you have anything more useful to say? Or are you as worthless as the rest of

your team?"

The woman swallowed hard, her pale face streaked with soot. "We didn't have a choice," she rasped. "They knew where to find us, knew about our families. They said if we didn't do this,

they'd-" She hesitated, her voice breaking.

"They'd what?" Irina snapped, her flames crackling impatiently.

"They'd kill them," the woman whispered, her eyes squeezing shut. "My son, my mother...

they made it clear we couldn't say no."

She was left with no clues....

Or was she?