Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 619

Chapter 619 136.9 - The Hunt

Zharokath's vision blurred as he struggled to focus. Pain coursed through his body, but it was nothing compared to the crushing realization settling in his mind. His plan, his entire existence, had been played. The human before him hadn't been trapped in the Void Cage; no, he had been waiting. Watching. All along, Zharokath had been the one dancing to the human's tune, thinking he was in control.

'How…?' Zharokath's mind screamed, his body trembling with both pain and disbelief. He had seen countless humans in his time—arrogant, naive, and inferior. They all died the same, broken and powerless beneath his might. But this one…

As the human's voice echoed in his ears, the truth hit him like a hammer. This wasn't just any human. This was someone who knew everything.

The words stung. "Do you know why you're so beneath me?"

Zharokath's pride, the one thing that had sustained him through centuries of existence, cracked and shattered with every mocking word. The young man didn't just know his name. He knew about the Void Clan, the Primordial of Void, the sacrifices, the carefully orchestrated plans that had spanned centuries. Every dark secret Zharokath had sworn to protect lay bare before this human like an open wound.

'No... this can't be,' Zharokath thought, his mind racing as he felt the last threads of control slipping from his grasp. He tried to rise, to muster the last dregs of his strength, but his limbs refused to respond. The poison, combined with the damage inflicted by the chakrams, rendered his body useless.

The human's voice continued, every syllable dripping with venomous satisfaction. Zharokath winced as the blade twisted under his claws, sending another wave of excruciating pain through his form. But the physical torment was nothing compared to the psychological one.

'He knows… about the Primordial… about everything...'

Zharokath had been careful. Meticulous. He had spent years operating in the shadows, building alliances, gathering sacrifices, and feeding the Primordial in secret. His entire existence had revolved around reviving the glory of the Void Clan, preparing for the day when they would reclaim their rightful place in the realms. He had manipulated humans, bending them to his will, making them puppets in his grand scheme.

But this human… this boy... how could he really?

'I need to escape here. I can't afford to waste any time….I need to leave.'

The mission that had been left to him, he needed to complete that. He could not afford to waste any second.

Zharokath's vision swam, his body aching with the cuts and the relentless poison coursing through him. The shock of the human's knowledge had rattled him, but as his mind fought to clear through the haze of agony, something else stirred within him—a twisted, desperate resolve.

'No… not fear,' he thought. He was a demon of the Void Clan, destined for greatness, a demon who had manipulated, bent, and broken countless beings. This human… this boy... no matter how clever, was still beneath him. There was still a way out of this, a way to turn this to his advantage. After all, humans were driven by emotion—hatred, vengeance, and arrogance. And he had seen all of it in this boy's eyes.

'You think you've won?' Zharokath's thoughts churned with scorn, even as his body continued to tremble. 'I've dealt with your kind before. You're consumed by your emotions. You're no different from the others.'

The human's smile, cruel and confident, only confirmed Zharokath's suspicion. He could see it—the hatred burning behind that mask of composure. It was a weakness, one Zharokath could still exploit.

"You... you can't understand..." Zharokath rasped, letting his voice tremble with just the right amount of desperation. "We… we're destined for greatness... the Void Clan..."

It was a lie, but a calculated one. Zharokath had always been a master of manipulation. He needed the human to believe that he was broken, that he had given up. This boy, for all his knowledge, was still arrogant, still emotional. Zharokath could see the human's desire for vengeance, the personal satisfaction in watching him suffer. And that was his opening. If the boy believed he had already won, that Zharokath was on the brink of submission, he would let his guard down. Just for a moment.

'That's all I need,' Zharokath thought, his mind racing even as his body burned with pain. 'A single opening, and I'll turn this around.'

The human leaned closer, mocking him, feeding his own ego. "Greatness? Your clan lost everything when the Primordial fell. You've been hiding like rats ever since."

Zharokath's breath hitched, but not from fear. The boy's arrogance was palpable now, and Zharokath could practically taste the rage that fueled him. It was intoxicating. The demon's lips twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile, hidden beneath the mask of pain he wore.

'Yes… keep underestimating me. Keep believing you've already won.'

He would play along, let the human believe he had the upper hand. But deep within, Zharokath's mind was working. His fingers twitched as they neared his artifact, the one hidden deep within his spatial storage, the one that could cleanse this accursed poison. If he could just get his hands on it...

The human's blade twisted deeper into his leg, and Zharokath let out a strangled gasp. But inside, he was already plotting. His mana flickered weakly, pooling into the artifact. He would escape. He would recover. He would tear this arrogant fool apart piece by piece.

Summoning the last of his strength, Zharokath activated the teleportation spell within the artifact, his body flickering as it phased out of existence.

For a brief, glorious moment, hope surged through him.

'I'll kill him. I'll show him what it means to cross the Void Clan.'

Zharokath's heart pounded with hatred, his every thought consumed by the desire for vengeance. The human had pushed him to the brink, humiliated him, but that would all change soon. Once free, Zharokath would rip him apart—piece by piece. His mind raced with thoughts of how he would break him.