Little Bit Of Spying

10th July 2034.

In the heart of a regular day, Mira navigated her college routine, leaving Edwin to his own devices back at their apartment. But Edwin wasn't idling away time; he was deep into his training regimen, honing the newfound capabilities that had unfurled within him.

In the past few days, Edwin's Mana Circuits had upgraded to the mid-grade stage of the E-tier. His body could now harness mana to bolster resilience and endurance, a newfound advantage in his arsenal. His Mana Pool had also ascended to the high-grade stage of E-tier, endowing him with the stamina characteristic of an average E-Tier Hunter.

His eyes underwent a mysterious upgrade, allowing him to observe the mana circuits of men around him.

A useful skill, albeit without the perk of absorbing energy from them.

Yet, there was more to this transformation—Edwin discovered an unexpected ability known as Eidetic Memory. Anything he glimpsed at could now be etched into his mind with unparalleled clarity.

However, in the midst of these revelations, Edwin's keen senses detected a persistent pattern. Three individuals on bikes seemed to shadow his every move from the warehouse to his apartment. It wasn't just a hunch; he could identify the bikes by their numbers, colors, and models.

This realization set off a flicker of concern. Had someone caught wind of his abilities? Was an investigation underway? From the confines of his apartment, Edwin was sure that the gang members were keeping an eye on his residence from a vantage point.

Rather than plunging headfirst into a confrontation, Edwin chose a more calculated approach. "First, I need to find out who it is that is trying to keep an eye on me," he mused.

Despite his newfound abilities, caution dictated that he tread carefully. The unknown intentions of these individuals meant a face-to-face encounter was too risky.

'In this city, a gun isn't just for show,' Edwin thought, acknowledging the reality of Miami's streets.

Edwin's fingers danced across his smartphone screen as he dialed Tronte, the Head of Management of the Miami Hunting Guild. The device buzzed, and Tronte's voice crackled through the line, "Edwin, what's up?"

A cool tone masked Edwin's underlying concern as he relayed the situation, "Tronte, got some guys tailing me. Any chance you can dig into who they are and why they're playing detective with me? Worried my newfound abilities might've leaked."

Tronte, caught off guard but quick on the uptake, responded with a promise, "I'll look into it."

Satisfied with the response, Edwin added, "I'll text you their bike numbers."

Tronte, ever the man of action, left his office in a haste on his black Mercedes, eager to untangle the web of intrigue surrounding Edwin. Whispering Palms society awaited his scrutiny.

Arriving at the parking lot, Tronte laid eyes on the three suspicious bikes, each one that matched the number that Edwin had sent him in the text. A hint of a smile curled on his lips as he pondered his next move.

Opting for a bird's-eye view, Tronte made a leap to the tallest building in the vicinity. Perched on the rooftop, he surveyed the landscape, searching for other vantage points.

It didn't take long for his keen eyes to catch three figures on a nearby rooftop, armed with binoculars and fixated on Edwin's residence.

"Bingo!" Tronte muttered to himself, a spark of triumph in his eyes. With the agility of a seasoned hunter, he vaulted across rooftops, closing the distance between him and the trio of observers.

As he landed on their rooftop, Tronte, exuding an air of authority, addressed the bewildered trio.

"Gentlemen, playing spies today, aren't we?"

Caught off guard, the three stammered, their binoculars hanging awkwardly around their necks. Tronte's gaze, unyielding, demanded an explanation.

One of them, trying to save face, mumbled, "We were just, uh, bird-watching, you know, rooftop bird-watching."

Tronte arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Rooftop bird-watching? In Miami? Color me skeptical. Now, how about we talk about why you're really here?"

The trio exchanged nervous glances, realizing their ruse had crumbled.

Tronte, standing on the rooftop like a sentinel, let his gaze bore into the trio. His words, biting and cold, hung in the air like an impending storm.

"Gentlemen, here's how it's going to go down. You can either spill the beans willingly, or I can rearrange your faces until you're singing like canaries. Take your pick."

The trio, faced with the ultimatum, exchanged wary glances. It was a standoff, the rooftop transforming into a makeshift interrogation room under the Miami sky.

Unexpectedly, the atmosphere crackled with tension as the three gang members, perhaps feeling cornered, reached for their pistols.

The air filled with the sharp retorts of gunfire as they took aim at Tronte, the unexpected twist leaving him momentarily stunned.

But Tronte, a B-tier Hunter, wasn't one to be caught off guard.

With a grace that defied human limitations, he dodged those bullets while displaying his evasive skills that rendered the gunfire futile.

In an instant, the tides turned. Tronte, fueled by his enhanced mana, became a blur, closing the gap between him and the trio faster than their bullets could follow.

The clash that ensued was swift and brutal. Fist met flesh, the sounds of impact echoing against the concrete backdrop.

Tronte, a force to be reckoned with, dispatched each assailant with calculated precision.

Diego, one of the battered gang members, found himself pinned against the rooftop's edge.

With a cold edge to his voice, Tronte demanded, "Now, before I decide whether to give you a rooftop makeover, who sent you?"

The threat lingered in the air, a palpable menace that weighed on Diego's conscience. In the face of impending defeat, he relented, the truth spilling out like water from a breached dam.

"It was Giovanni, the Head of Mission Departments of the Miami Hunting Guild. He hired us to keep tabs on this man named Edwin."

Tronte's expression remained unreadable, the revelation settling like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

'Damnit. The worst possible individual has a hint of Edwin's ability!' Tronte couldn't help but click his tongue in annoyance.