Free Web NovelChapter 299: 299 | Diamond-Tier Scrutiny
The shower hit like salvation after Vale’s personal interpretation of the Geneva Convention. Hot water cascaded over muscles that felt like they’d been tenderized with a sledgehammer, washing away two hours of sweat and the lingering evidence of last night’s activities. Steam filled the cramped bathroom while I stood there longer than necessary, letting the heat work its way into the knots Vale had tied in my shoulders.
My reflection in the fogged mirror looked like someone who’d survived a natural disaster. The bite mark on my throat had darkened overnight, a perfect crescent of teeth that screamed "property of Addison Baxter" to anyone with functioning eyes. Vale’s comment about Silver-rank regeneration kept bouncing around my head. She could have healed it. Instead, she’d let it bloom into this gorgeous bruise that practically glowed against my skin.
Territorial little psychopath.
The uniform felt different today. Maybe it was the C-rank Endurance finally settling into my body, or maybe it was the knowledge that I’d acquired Reaper’s Edge last night, but the grey blazer sat better on my shoulders. The fabric didn’t pull as much across my chest. Even the collar seemed less eager to strangle me.
I checked the System interface while buttoning my shirt. Three new abilities sat in storage: Wave Motion at Bronze, Treasure Sense at Bronze, and Reaper’s Edge at Copper. The dual scythe manifestation would be devastating even at base rank, but I’d kept Sensory Hijack active for now. Better to maintain the psychological warfare toolkit until I knew what kind of heat Cassandra might bring.
The walk to the cafeteria started normal enough. Early morning sunlight painted the campus in gold and orange, and the paths were mostly empty except for a few dedicated joggers and that one Ruby second-year who always looked like she was late for something important.
Then the feeling hit me.
Eyes. Watching. The kind of attention that raised every combat instinct I’d developed over the past month.
I kept walking, letting my pace stay casual while my awareness expanded. Someone was tracking my movement with the patience of a predator. Not the obvious staring I got from students who recognized me as the lottery winner dating half the academy. This felt professional. Surgical.
My head turned left toward the library, scanning the windows and shadowed alcoves. Nothing. The quad looked empty except for maintenance staff setting up equipment for some kind of event. I shifted right, checking the path that led to the administrative buildings.
Still nothing visible, but the weight of observation pressed against my spine like a physical thing.
Cassandra Davenport.
Had to be. Blair’s older sister, the Diamond-tier hunter who’d apparently decided that my rapid climb from dead last to Elite Ten material deserved investigation. Misato’s warning echoed in my memory. Don’t engage. Don’t give her anything to work with. Act normal.
Normal. Right. Because walking to breakfast while a federal-level investigator studied my every move was totally within the realm of normal Tuesday morning activities.
The cafeteria came into view, its glass facade reflecting the morning sun in patterns that made surveillance impossible to detect. Smart positioning. If Cassandra was watching from inside, she’d have perfect visibility while remaining effectively invisible behind the glare.
I pushed through the entrance doors, nodding to the security guard who’d stopped bothering to check IDs for anyone not wearing visitor badges. The breakfast crowd was lighter than usual, mostly first and second-years grabbing quick meals before morning classes. The Elite Ten typically ate later, after their private training sessions and strategy meetings.
Belle sat at our usual table by the windows, her light blue hair catching the morning light as she methodically destroyed a stack of pancakes. Her modified uniform looked like it had been tailored by someone with very specific ideas about how much skin should be visible during academic hours. The blazer hung open, the yellow shirt beneath it straining across curves that belonged in a different kind of academy entirely.
"You look like death," she announced when I approached, not bothering to look up from her systematic pancake demolition. "But death with better posture."
"Vale’s training philosophy involves creative interpretations of human endurance limits."
"Uh-huh." She stabbed another piece of pancake, loading it with enough syrup to constitute a health violation. "And the bite mark on your throat?"
"Addison has strong opinions about territorial marking."
Belle’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her amber eyes flicked up to study the bruise with the intensity of a forensic investigator. "That’s going to be visible all week. Silver regeneration could clear it in a few hours if she wanted."
"Yeah, Vale mentioned that too."
"Smart girl." Belle resumed eating, but her smile carried a dangerous edge. "Making sure everyone knows you’re spoken for. Very efficient."
I loaded my own tray with the kind of caloric excess that C-rank metabolism demanded. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, hash browns, and a stack of pancakes that could feed a small family. The benefits of enhanced physical capabilities included an appetite that bordered on supernatural.
"Where’s Naomi?"
"Library. Something about fracture space stability equations and proper note organization. She left twenty minutes ago with enough textbooks to build a small fort." Belle paused in her pancake assault to study my face. "She seemed worried about you."
"Worried how?"
"The way she gets when she thinks you’re taking stupid risks for stupid reasons. Also, she made me promise to make sure you actually eat breakfast instead of just drinking coffee and pretending caffeine counts as nutrition."
The observation platform above the main dining area caught my attention. A figure stood there, partially obscured by the architectural support beams. Tall, elegant posture, expensive clothing that screamed professional hunter rather than academy staff. She wasn’t trying to hide, exactly, but she wasn’t advertising her presence either. freewebnσvel.cѳm
Cassandra.
Had to be. The resemblance to Blair was obvious even from this distance. Same aristocratic bearing, same way of holding herself like the world existed for her convenience. But where Blair’s beauty carried an edge of cruelty, this woman projected something colder. More refined.
More dangerous.
"Someone you know?" Belle followed my gaze upward, her fork suspended in midair.
