Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 618 136.8 - The Hunt

What does it mean to have your vengeance? Why do some of us, after everything has been taken, chase after it like it's the only thing keeping us alive?

For those who have never lost anyone, revenge might seem like an obsession born out of selfishness. A futile pursuit. They see someone consumed by anger and destruction, and they shake their heads, wondering why anyone would sacrifice so much for something as intangible as vengeance. But they don't understand.

For those who have never tasted that particular brand of agony—of having your world torn apart—vengeance seems pointless. An act born from pride or ego, maybe. A pursuit for closure, when closure doesn't exist. They are the ones who can walk away, the ones who can turn their backs and say it's over.

'But it feels so good…..'

I looked down at Zharokath, wriggling beneath my foot, his once imposing form now reduced to a pathetic, broken shell. His void energy, once so oppressive, flickered weakly around him.

My breathing was steady, but my heart?

My heart was pounding with fury, a fury that had been burning inside me for as long as I could remember.

Or was it fury?

No, it was not.

'Filth. That's all you demons are…'

It was something else.

Something different.

'Ecstasy.' As I stared down at Zharokath, the demon who had once stood so arrogantly, so confident in his power, I felt an overwhelming surge of ecstasy.

'Filth. That's all you demons are…'

I could feel a smile tugging at my lips, the corners curling as the realization settled over me. This moment, seeing a demon writhing under my boot, helpless, was something that could never be replicated. It wasn't just satisfaction; it was rapture. It was the culmination of years of hatred, of burning, seething rage that had festered within me.

This was the same breed of creature that had taken everything from me. The same demons that had brought death to my sister. And now, here I was, towering over one of them, watching as he struggled, as he looked at me with wide, desperate eyes.

'Look at you. You feel like a worm, don't you?'

I felt my smile widen as I pressed down harder with my boot. Zharokath let out a strangled gasp, his body jerking in pain as I applied pressure. His eyes, once filled with fury, now reflected only terror. The fear of death. The fear of knowing that he was completely at my mercy.

"You are just… inferior," I whispered, my voice dripping with satisfaction. The words felt perfect, rolling off my tongue as if they had been waiting for this moment. Zharokath's body twitched at the sound, his panic growing, but there was nothing he could do. He was mine now.

I bent down, bringing my face closer to his, just enough to watch the flicker of despair grow in his eyes. "Do you know why?" I asked, my tone almost mockingly soft. "Do you know why you're so beneath me?"

He tried to speak, his lips quivering, but nothing came out except a ragged gasp. His body was broken, his strength gone. He had nothing left but the pathetic shell of what once was.

I couldn't hold my laugh while gripping Celestalith tighter.

"I'll tell you why," I said, lifting the blade and driving it into his leg with a slow, deliberate motion.

"AAAAAAARGH!"

Zharokath screamed, his body convulsing under the pain, but I only leaned in closer, reveling in it. The sound of his suffering was music, and I drank it in, feeling it pulse through me like a drug.

"You," I continued, my voice calm and steady despite the cruelty of my actions, "you thought your void made you powerful. That it gave you some right to take whatever you want, to destroy whoever you please." I twisted the blade, watching his eyes roll back in his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"But you were wrong," I whispered, pulling the blade free and slashing it across his other leg, severing the tendons. He howled in agony, his body jerking, but there was no escape. Not from this.

'But you will believe.'

For starters….The thing before me is a demon.

Something who does things like this thinks like this.

In this situation, when I have yet to kill it when I am looking down on it like this, it will believe.

Its cunning mind will continue working, its gears spinning.

Survival instinct will take its place, its innate nature revealing itself.

The desire to survive.

Every sentient being has it imprinted on their minds.

And the thing before me is no different.

I yanked the blade free from Zharokath's leg, the blood spurting from the fresh wound as its body convulsed beneath me. The way it screamed, the way its form writhed in agony—it was a sight I couldn't help but savor.

Its pain, its suffering, was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through me. This thing—this creature—was at my mercy, and the ecstasy of it all was overwhelming.

I smirked, looking down at it, my fingers tightening around the hilt of Celestalith. "Do you know why?" I asked. "Do you know why you were wrong?"

Without waiting for an answer, I knelt down, gripping one of its hands. Its claws twitched weakly, coated with its own blood.

I lifted the blade, holding its hand firmly as I positioned the sharp edge just beneath its claws. "Let me show you why," I whispered, my eyes locking onto its gaze, drinking in the terror reflected there.

Then, with slow, deliberate pressure, I pushed the blade forward, stabbing it directly under its claws, piercing the quicks. The response was instant.

"AAAAAHHHH!" It shrieked, its body thrashing violently as the blade dug deeper, tearing through sensitive nerves and sending waves of excruciating pain through its form. I could see its eyes rolling back, its chest heaving, its breath coming in desperate gasps.

But I didn't stop. I pressed harder, twisting the blade under its claws, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone and tendon giving way.

"You were wrong," I hissed, leaning in closer. "Because you thought that your disguise was perfect. Because you could just come into the human domain and infiltrate this place. You think you can restore your 'Void Clan' to its former glory."

The moment I spoke those words, I felt it. The thing beneath me—Zharokath—shuddered. Its entire body trembled violently, as if the weight of those revelations hit it like a physical blow. I looked down, my eyes narrowing, and there it was—pure, unadulterated terror gleaming in its widened eyes.

It knew that I knew.

For the first time in this entire battle, it wasn't just fear of death that filled its gaze. No, it was something much deeper. Panic. Desperation. The last shred of hope it had clung to had been ripped away.

Zharokath's lips quivered, its breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. The once-mighty demon, now broken and writhing under my boot, struggled to speak. Finally, it managed to choke out the words, barely audible through its gasps of pain.

"H-how… how can you… know?" It breathed heavily, its voice filled with disbelief, the weight of the truth crashing down on it. "How do you know about…?"

I felt a slow grin spread across my face, savoring the look of sheer horror in its eyes. My smirk widened, and I leaned in closer, driving the blade just a fraction deeper under its claws, eliciting another choked cry of agony.

"I know everything," I whispered, my voice cold and dripping with satisfaction. "Everything about you… and everything about your pathetic clan."

Zharokath's body jerked, the pain surging through it, but its eyes—those wide, terrified eyes—never left mine. I could see the desperation growing as I continued, my words slicing through it like the blade in its hand.

"You thought you could rebuild your clan? That you could restore the 'Void Clan' to its former glory? After you lost the Primordial of Void?"

Zharokath's body tensed at the mention of the Primordial, a look of disbelief flashing in its eyes. I could see it now—the cracks forming, the last pieces of its arrogance crumbling away.

"Oh, yes," I said, my voice filled with dark amusement. "I know how your clan scattered like rats after that defeat. How you've been hiding in the shadows, clinging to whatever scraps of power you could find, feeding on whatever remains of your former strength."

Zharokath's breath hitched, the weight of my words sinking deeper with every passing second. I could feel it—the sheer panic that gripped it now. It knew there was no escaping this. No denying what was about to happen.

"And you," I continued, pressing the blade a little harder under its claws, twisting it ever so slightly, "you've been working under the shadows, haven't you? Sending countless humans as sacrifices… as meals… to feed the Primordial."

I leaned in closer, my voice barely a whisper, but the weight of my words was deafening. "All to make it reborn."

Zharokath's body convulsed beneath me, its eyes wide with horror as the truth spilled out. Its breath came in ragged gasps, but it couldn't speak.

But at the same time, I could also feel something else underneath.

'Heh…..Now you are doing it….'

A small current of mana, subtle and carefully controlled, was flowing through Zharokath's body, pooling into something just beneath the surface. Even in his broken, helpless state, this thing still had the gall to try and pull off a last-ditch effort. A final act of desperation.

I almost laughed. It was pathetic, really.

Zharokath's body trembled beneath me, and as I caught sight of the faint glow of mana, the demon began to speak again, his voice weak and broken, but deliberate. "You… you can't understand," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "We… we're… destined for greatness… the Void Clan… we… we will rise again."

I eased my grip on the blade just a little.

"Destined for greatness?" I mused, my voice low and taunting. "Is that what you believe? That your scattered clan, hiding like rats, can ever regain what it's lost?"

Zharokath gasped, his body twitching as he tried to summon more of his strength. "You… don't understand… we have… we have plans… the Primordial… it will rise… and when it does… nothing will stop us…"

I leaned in closer, my smirk widening. "Go on," I whispered. "Tell me all about it."

Zharokath's breaths were ragged, and his voice grew weaker with every word. "You can't stop it… no one can… we've been working… for centuries… for this moment… the sacrifices… all of them… for the Primordial's return…"

"And then what?" I asked, my tone mocking. "You'll rule again? You'll destroy everything and rise from the ashes?"

Zharokath's lips quivered, its eyes darting between me and the artifact, the panic barely concealed beneath his strained expression. "Yes…" he breathed. "Yes… we will… and you… you won't stop it…"

But then.

'There it is.'

The room flashed in a sudden burst of light. For a split second, the air around us crackled with energy, and then, with a sharp hiss, Zharokath's form flickered, and in an instant—

WHOOSH!

It was gone.

Or was it?

I stood there for a moment, the space where he had been lying now empty, the faint traces of its mana still lingering in the air. And then, slowly, I began to laugh.

'Pathetic.'

And then clenched my hand.

–Umbralith. Following that, [Celestalith] gleamed purple with the rings forming a sphere of gravity right in my hand.

And then….

'Bam!'

–BOOM!

Here it was. Returned.

"Huh?"

The face of surprise that he had just made.

It was pure delight.

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