Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 625 137.3 - The Kid

One day, Eryon heard the words he had been waiting for: they had found him a family. The adults told him he would finally be leaving this place, that he would now go to a home where he would be cared for, loved, and—most importantly—free. The moment filled him with a strange, unfamiliar sense of excitement. His heart fluttered with hope, the same hope Emily had carried with her when she left.

As they led him through the same grand hall Emily had walked months earlier, Eryon allowed himself to dream. Perhaps this was his chance, his opportunity to meet Emily again, to find her in the outside world where the promise of a better life awaited them both. He would finally see what lay beyond the orphanage's walls, finally understand the life he had been denied for so long. His future seemed brighter than it ever had before.

With a group of other children who had also been chosen, Eryon boarded. He shared in their nervous excitement, each child wondering what awaited them at their new destination. The journey took them far from the orphanage, and the farther they went, the more Eryon's anticipation grew. He told himself that he was one step closer to finding Emily, that their paths would surely cross again once he settled into his new life.

The destination was Ardmont City, a bustling metropolis much like the one he had first seen when he arrived at the new home. It was filled with towering buildings and busy streets, but there was something darker about this place. The energy wasn't as vibrant, and the air was heavier, as if something sinister lurked beneath the surface.

When they arrived at the gates of a large estate, the children were told they would be under the care of a man named Silas Vayne. Silas was described as a benefactor, a powerful figure who had taken an interest in helping children like them. He was the one who had "taken them under his wings," as the adults said, and now he would guide them into their new lives.

Eryon couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. Silas Vayne's name sounded important as if being under his care meant something grand. Perhaps this was his destiny—a new start, a new path. He glanced around at the other children, who were just as wide-eyed and hopeful as he was. They had no reason to doubt the adults' words. After all, wasn't this what they had always wanted?

But that sense of hope, of freedom, was soon to be shattered.

As Eryon entered the building something felt off. The grandeur of the place, while impressive, seemed hollow, almost too perfect. The servants who greeted them did so with polite smiles, but their eyes were distant, empty.

And then it was in that time, that the real purpose for their being there was revealed.

The first few days in Silas Vayne's estate passed in a strange blur. Eryon and the other children were fed lavish meals—strange dishes they had never seen before, rich and flavorful, unlike the meager food they had grown up with in the orphanage. But as time went on, the food began to feel less like nourishment and more like something else. The meals were served in the basement of the estate, an expansive, dimly lit space that felt more like a dungeon than a dining hall.

At first, Eryon didn't question it. He was too overwhelmed by the change in his life, too caught up in the false promises of freedom and care. But the unease that had been gnawing at him since his arrival grew stronger with each passing day.

Then the torment began.

It started subtly, with some of the children being given less food than others. Eryon noticed how some of his peers, those who were already thin and frail, began to wither even more. They were left hungry, deliberately starved, their bodies growing weaker and more emaciated with each passing day. No matter how much they begged, the servants gave them nothing.

It started subtly, with some of the children being given less food than others. Eryon noticed how some of his peers, those who were already thin and frail, began to wither even more. They were left hungry, deliberately starved, their bodies growing weaker and more emaciated with each passing day. No matter how much they begged, the servants gave them nothing.

Other children, stronger ones, were subjected to something different. The violence came quietly, without warning, as they were taken to another part of the basement and returned with bruises, cuts, and broken bones. Their eyes hollowed out with fear, but they said nothing. Whatever happened to them in that part of the basement was too horrific to speak about.

And then there were the children who didn't return at all.

Eryon's dread grew as he watched, powerless, while those around him suffered. He tried to blend in, to go unnoticed, hoping that if he kept his head down, he might be spared whatever fate awaited the others. But he couldn't ignore the truth forever. The meals they were given, once a source of comfort, became more twisted as time went on. The food took on strange, unsettling qualities—an unnatural richness that made his stomach churn. He knew, deep down, that it wasn't meant to sustain them. It was something else, something far darker.

One night, after a particularly gruesome disappearance, the truth of their situation was revealed.

The basement was not just a place where they were fed—it was a place of preparation. The children weren't being taken care of; they were being cultivated, their bodies prepared for consumption. They were food.

Eryon felt a wave of horror crash over him as he realized what was happening. The torment, the starvation, the violence—it was all part of some grotesque process. Some children were left malnourished, their bodies withering until they could barely move, while others were beaten and tortured, their flesh bruised and broken. The cruelest part was that some of them, the ones who showed promise, were given just enough food and care to survive, only to be fed to a fate far worse than death.

Eryon's heart pounded in his chest as he pieced it together. Silas Vayne was no benefactor. He was a monster, and the children were nothing more than livestock in his eyes. They were being fattened, starved, tortured—all to serve some unspeakable purpose.

He thought of Emily. Was this her fate as well? Had she too been fed these same lies, only to meet a cruel end in this cursed place?

The weight of it was unbearable, especially for a child.

His hopes were shattered, and the life that he was living suddenly became a hell.

Something that he could have never expected in his whole life.

16:51

Eryon's initial reaction to the truth was desperation. He tried to escape, to find a way out of the hell that had once promised him salvation. Each night, as the other children slept, he would lie awake, heart racing, mind spinning as he tried to formulate plans—any plan—to free himself from the clutches of Silas Vayne.

At first, the ideas seemed simple: wait for an opening, slip away unnoticed, perhaps blend into the bustling streets of Ardmont City and disappear. But every attempt was met with failure. The estate was guarded far more heavily than he had realized. Every corner, every hallway, was watched. There was no slipping away unnoticed, no crevice to exploit. Each time he tried to make a move, it was as if the estate itself conspired against him, closing in tighter and tighter.

As days bled into weeks, Eryon's hope began to erode. His mind, once filled with desperate thoughts of escape, now ran hollow. He saw others who had tried to flee—children whose faces had once glimmered with hope like his. They had been dragged back, beaten, broken. They were no longer the same. Their spirits had been crushed, just as his would soon be.

He thought of Emily often, wondering what had happened to her, what fate she had met in this cruel place. He had once dreamed of finding her, of escaping with her to a life where they could both be free. But now that dream seemed distant, unreachable, as though it had never existed at all.

Eryon soon realized that the time for his end was drawing near. It was in the way the servants watched him with cold, calculating eyes, in the way the meals became smaller, less nourishing, as if they were preparing him for the inevitable. And then came the training.

The training was brutal, both physically and mentally. It was designed to strip away any remaining resistance, any hope, any individuality. They broke him down, day by day, forcing him into submission. He was no longer allowed to think for himself, no longer allowed to dream of escape. Every ounce of his energy was focused on one thing: obedience.

He became obedient, just as the others had before him. The hopeful boy who had once looked to the future with wide eyes and wonder was gone, replaced by a hollow shell that existed only to survive the torment. His thoughts of escape disappeared, his dreams of finding Emily faded into the background. There was only the present—the endless cycle of pain and control, the knowledge that his life no longer belonged to him.

And then, the day came.

Eryon was taken to Silas Vayne. He didn't resist. He didn't fight. The once-vibrant child who had walked through the grand hall with hope in his heart now stood before his master, silent and still. His eyes were empty, his mind quiet. The boy who had dreamed of freedom was no longer there.

He had become what they had always intended him to be—obedient, docile, ready to be served.

Eryon had given up hope. There was nothing left for him now, nothing but the cold, empty reality of his fate.

"You…..Do you want to live?"

And now faced with this question, he did not know what to answer at all.

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