Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 611

Chapter 611 136.1 - The Hunt

Warning: this chapter contains sensitive content. Please read carefully.

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Zharokath's residence in Ardmont City was quiet, the kind of silence that only comes with true isolation. He preferred it that way—his refuge from the human world. As he stepped deeper into his quarters, his thoughts immediately began turning to the night's events, particularly the unexpected revelation about Maya Evergreen.

'The daughter of the Evergreens, carrying demonic energy…' Zharokath mused, his lips curling into a small, self-satisfied smile. 'A gift I hadn't anticipated.'

He moved to a chair by a low-burning hearth, the shadows dancing across the room's dark stone walls. His mind churned with possibilities. Initially, he had only planned to solidify his influence with Gerald, Vivienne, and Argen. Simple business deals cloaked in demonic manipulation, pushing them further into his control. But now, this new development presented an opportunity far beyond what he had anticipated.

'Maya Evergreen…' Zharokath thought again, leaning back in his chair. 'A demonic presence within her, though faint. Someone has already begun weaving threads of darkness into her soul, but whoever it is has been careless. They have left her vulnerable to external influence, and now I can use that vulnerability to my advantage.'

He considered the ways in which he might exploit this newfound information. If he could further manipulate the demonic energy within her, it would be easy to steer her into a path that aligned with his goals. The Evergreens held considerable influence in the Federation. With Maya in his control, it wouldn't be long before the entire family could be brought under his sway.

'And once I have the Evergreens… the doors to greater power will open,' Zharokath thought, a gleam in his eyes. 'The Federation itself could fall, piece by piece.'

His mood brightened at the prospect. The evening had gone better than he could have hoped, and now, with this discovery, his plans were expanding rapidly.

'Yes… this was a fortunate turn of events. I thought this would merely be another step toward cementing my influence in the human world, but now… now I have a new piece on the board.'

Feeling the weight of his success, Zharokath allowed himself a rare indulgence. He reached for the small bell beside his chair and rang it with a sharp flick of his wrist. The chime echoed softly through the room, signaling his servants to attend to him.

'A fitting end to a productive night,' Zharokath thought, still pleased with the evening's gains. He would treat himself now.

Zharokath leaned back in his chair, the faint flicker of firelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. As he let his thoughts drift, his mind returned to the image of Maya Evergreen—the way her features had twisted with discomfort under the influence of his demonic energy. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he recalled the moment, her vulnerability.

'Soon enough, you'll serve me,' he thought, his tongue flicking over his lips in a slow, deliberate motion. The thought of Maya fully under his control, her body and soul enslaved to his will, sent a thrill of satisfaction coursing through him.

'The Evergreens, those arrogant fools, thinking their influence and power could shield them…' Zharokath's smile darkened, his eyes gleaming with a cruel light. 'I'll make them witness it. One by one, they'll watch as she submits to me, completely. Their downfall will be at her hands, and I'll ensure that each of them understands just how futile their resistance was.'

His mind spun with vivid images of Maya kneeling before him, her once-proud demeanor shattered, her family powerless to stop it. It wasn't just the power that excited him—it was the utter degradation of someone so highly esteemed, broken and bent to his will.

A soft knock interrupted his reverie, and Zharokath's smile slipped into something more composed. The door to his chambers opened, and one of his personal servants entered, head bowed, eyes lowered in respectful submission.

"What does Master desire?" the servant asked, voice smooth and deferential.

Zharokath's eyes gleamed with the aftertaste of his wicked thoughts. "Bring me one of the fresh ones," he said, his tone laced with an underlying command. He didn't need to explain further—his servants knew precisely what he meant. The fresh ones were the newly acquired, unbroken, and untouched—delivered for him to indulge his pleasures.

The servant bowed lower, his expression unwavering. "At once, Master." Without hesitation, the servant turned and swiftly exited the room, leaving Zharokath in the dim glow of the firelight once more.

As he waited, the gleam never left his gaze. Zharokath savored the thought of what was to come—both tonight and in the days ahead.

CREAK!

Then just at that moment, his door creaked open, and a figure appeared in the doorway—a young man...

No, not even a young man, but barely a boy, trembling visibly.

His wide, fearful eyes darted around the room, taking in the dim firelight, the shadows that seemed to cling to every corner, and finally, landing on Zharokath himself.

The sheer presence of the demon, the oppressive weight of his power, held the boy in place, his legs too weak to flee even if he wanted to.

The young boy's pale skin glistened with sweat, his body shaking as if he could feel the darkness radiating from Zharokath, even though he couldn't truly comprehend the source of his terror. He had been chosen, handpicked by Zharokath's loyal servants, and brought here like a lamb to the slaughter.

Zharokath's eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as he observed the boy, watching the fear ripple through him, savoring it. It wasn't just the physical domination he craved, but the utter submission of mind and soul. He enjoyed watching the realization sink in, the slow, dawning horror that there would be no escape.

"Come closer," Zharokath commanded softly, his voice smooth but carrying an irresistible weight of authority.

The boy's legs wobbled beneath him, but he obeyed, taking small, hesitant steps into the room. His eyes were wide, filled with dread as he approached the demon who sat waiting like a king upon his throne.

Zharokath's lips curled into a dark smile, watching the young man struggle to keep his composure. He could see the fight in his eyes, the desperate hope that somehow, this was all a nightmare. But there would be no mercy here, no waking from the reality of what was to come.

"You're afraid," Zharokath said, his voice almost a purr as he studied the boy's face. "Good. Fear will make this more enjoyable."

The young man swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he tried to find his voice, but no words came. He stood frozen before Zharokath, unable to move or speak, completely under the demon's thrall.

Zharokath leaned forward, his dark eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. He could feel the boy's terror like a tangible thing, radiating off him in waves. It was intoxicating, a delicious prelude to the indulgence he was about to savor.

"Tell me," Zharokath whispered, his voice like silk wrapping around the boy's mind. "Do you know why you're here?"

The boy's breath hitched, his voice barely a whisper as he shook his head, his body trembling more violently under the demon's gaze.

Zharokath chuckled softly, his smile growing darker. "You're here to serve. To please. And you will do exactly that."

With that, Zharokath rose from his seat, towering over the boy, his presence suffocating and absolute. The young man's legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor, his body wracked with fear, completely at the mercy of the demon who stood above him.