Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 620

Chapter 620 136.10 - The Hunt

Everything had played out exactly as I wanted.

Zharokath's desperate attempt to escape, the way he clung to that pathetic shred of hope—it was all so predictable. These demons, for all their arrogance and cruelty, were always the same when their lives were on the line. They scrambled, they begged, they tried to run, thinking that somehow, they could slip away from the inevitable. And every time, it filled me with an intoxicating thrill.

I watched as his body began to phase out of existence, the artifact glowing with the last dregs of his demonic energy. He had given everything to power that spell. He really thought he could get away. But I had anticipated it—planned for it.

Just as he began to vanish, I activated Umbralith. The sphere of gravity formed in my hand, crackling with power, tethering him to this room. The void energy that should have carried him to safety was dragged back, collapsing in on itself. And there it was—the moment I had been waiting for. freewёbnoνel.com

BOOM!

Zharokath reappeared with a violent crash, his body slamming back into the cold stone floor, broken and bleeding. His eyes—those wide, terrified eyes—looked up at me, filled with disbelief, pain, and the most delicious kind of fear. He couldn't understand what had happened, how he had been ripped back from the edge of escape.

"Huh?" he muttered, confusion clouding his features. That face, that precious expression of shock—it was pure delight to me. He had no idea how much I relished it.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" The laugh spilled out of me, manic and uncontrollable. I couldn't resist it. Watching him struggle, watching him crumble—it was intoxicating. Every single time.

They were all the same, these demons. When their power failed, when their lives were truly at risk, they all resorted to the same pathetic tricks. They always tried to escape. It didn't matter how strong they were, how mighty they thought themselves to be—when faced with death, they all broke down the same way. And I couldn't get enough of it.

'You can't resist it, can you? You always try to flee when it's too late.'

The thought surged through me as I stared down at the crumpled form of Zharokath. His body twitched weakly, his breaths ragged, his pride shattered into a thousand pieces. I could feel the desperation emanating from him—the frantic, wild hope that maybe, somehow, he could still escape.

But there was no escape.

Not from me.

I leaned in, my eyes fixed on his trembling form. "Did you really think you could get away, Zharokath?" I whispered, my voice dripping with satisfaction. "Did you think you could just vanish, disappear like all the others?"

His eyes flickered with the last glimmers of hope, but I crushed it with my next words.

"You're not going anywhere."

The despair that washed over him, the way his face twisted in realization—it was euphoric. I watched as the hope drained from his eyes, replaced by something far more satisfying. Helplessness.

I needed him to feel it. That crushing weight of knowing there was no escape. That no matter how hard he tried, no matter what power he called upon, it was useless. I needed him to understand the same helplessness that so many had felt at his hands. The same helplessness I had felt when I lost everything.

He coughed, blood splattering from his mouth as his body convulsed. "You… you can't… do this…" he muttered weakly, but there was no strength in his words. Only desperation.

I crouched down, gripping his chin and forcing him to look at me. "Oh, but I can," I said, my smile widening. "And I will. You see, Zharokath, I don't just want to kill you. No, that would be too easy. Too quick. I want you to understand what true despair feels like. I want you to lose everything."

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what was coming. I could feel it—the crumbling of his will, the way his spirit shattered bit by bit under the weight of my words. It was intoxicating. I needed more.

'You're going to lose hope, Zharokath. You're going to feel so much pain, so much helplessness, that even if you're reincarnated, you'll never be the same. You'll never have the strength to be what you once were. I will make sure of that.' I let go of his chin, watching as his head slumped forward, his body trembling uncontrollably. He was breaking, and I could feel it—feel the despair sinking into him like a poison.

And I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I needed to see him crumble completely, to see him reduced to nothing but ashes.

"So go on," I said, standing back up. "Feel it. Let it consume you. The despair. The helplessness. The understanding that no matter what you do, you will never escape this."