Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 617

Chapter 617: Chapter 136.7 – The Hunt
Zharokath’s claws were inches away from the human’s chest when it happened—an unfamiliar, unsettling sensation rippled through his body.

–THUMP!–

A strange thump, like the beat of a heart, echoed in his ears. It reverberated through his skull, and with it came a wave of weakness that spread from his core, stealing the strength from his limbs.

‘What… is this?’ Zharokath’s mind raced as his body began to falter. He could feel it—his power was slipping away. The void energy that surged through his veins, the raw strength that had carried him through countless battles, was suddenly vanishing, leaving him hollow.

Or was it vanishing?

It was a sensation that he had never experienced.

His vision blurred, the once razor-sharp focus clouded by an overwhelming sense of ‘fatigue.’ He tried to push through it, to summon the last reserves of his demonic energy, but nothing responded.

His body refused to obey. His legs buckled beneath him, and he stumbled forward, his claws missing their mark by a wide margin.

–THUD!–

Zharokath collapsed to the ground, gasping as he tried to understand what had just happened. His eyes, wide with disbelief, scanned the space around him. How could this be? His power, his very essence…..

And it was happening so quickly, so completely, that he couldn’t fathom what had caused it.

He forced his gaze upward to lay eyes on his opponent. The human was standing still, his posture calm, his expression unreadable.

Zharokath’s head pounded with the sound of that strange heartbeat, growing louder and louder, but something else caught his attention.

The human’s mask—a simple facade that had concealed his face throughout their fight—was no longer there.

‘Huh?’

Zharokath’s breath hitched as his gaze locked onto the face beneath the mask. His eyes widened in shock, the burning anger momentarily replaced by confusion and, for the first time in this battle, fear.

The human was…..

‘What?’

Smiling.

A smile that felt like it was mocking him.

THUD!

And then Zharokath’s body hit the ground hard, his muscles stiffening as if every fiber of his being was rebelling against him. The smile on the young man’s face still haunted him, mocking his arrogance, mocking his defeat. The moment his body collapsed, a sharp, searing pain exploded in his gut, spreading like wildfire through his veins.

THUD!

‘What… what is this?’ Zharokath’s thoughts scrambled as his body convulsed uncontrollably. His stomach churned violently, the burning sensation growing with every passing second. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced—it was deep, corrosive, as though something was eating away at him from the inside out.

His heartbeat grew louder, pounding in his ears with terrifying intensity.

THUMP! THUMP!

The rhythm was erratic, racing faster and faster, each pulse sending shockwaves of agony through his body. His breath grew shallow, his vision blurring at the edges as his body trembled. The sensation was unmistakable now—he had been poisoned. And not just with any ordinary toxin.

‘How… How is this possible?’ Zharokath’s mind screamed as he struggled to regain control of his body. Demons were naturally resistant to poisons. Their mana, infused with corrosive, dark energy, made them almost immune to the toxins that would kill others. Demons frequently used poison themselves, and over time, they had developed an extraordinary tolerance to it.

But this… this poison was different.

His void energy, which should have been combating the effects, seemed to do nothing. The more he tried to summon it, the more his body rejected the command. The burning in his muscles intensified, his veins feeling like they were being scorched from within.

His vision blurred, but he forced his gaze up to the young man who still stood there, watching him, unmoving.

But there was something inside his eyes.

And that human also felt familiar, like he had just recently seen him. But at that moment, he did not have the mind to recall who it was.

Zharokath’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘How could a human… poison me?’ He growled, the sound weak and guttural, filled with both rage and fear. His mind reeled as he fought against the poison’s grip, trying to piece together how this was even possible. No mere human could craft a toxin capable of grounding a demon of his caliber.

But this human wasn’t mere.

In that smile, in those purple eyes.

There was something eerie….

Something…

Zharokath could feel it now, something dark and unnerving emanating from him.

‘I am feeling fear?’

His heart continued to pound erratically in his chest, each beat sending a new wave of agony through him. His limbs convulsed, his muscles burning, and yet, despite the overwhelming pain, Zharokath forced his body to move.

‘No way!’

With immense effort, he managed to lift himself slightly off the ground. His vision swam, the world around him tilting as if reality itself was slipping away. But he couldn’t afford to give in. Not yet.

‘If I can still move… then there’s time,’ Zharokath told himself, clenching his teeth against the pain. He had to act fast.

‘Antidote.’

Zharokath’s eyes narrowed as he fought through the searing pain tearing through his body. His muscles spasmed, and the poison felt like fire coursing through his veins, but there was no panic in his mind. Not anymore.

‘This… this is nothing but poison,’ Zharokath reminded himself, a grim smirk forming on his lips despite the agony. His body may have been reeling from the attack, but he wasn’t unfamiliar with poisons.

Demons, especially those of his rank, had encountered all manner of toxins in their lives, each more dangerous than the last. And no matter how strange or potent this one seemed, it was still an external threat—something he could counter.

“Even if you’ve played your tricks, human,” Zharokath growled through gritted teeth, his voice laced with a venomous arrogance, “you’re still nothing more than that… a mere human. What can you truly do against me?”

His smirk widened, even as the poison continued its assault on his body. The young man was standing still, unmoving, which could only mean one thing—he was still trapped in the confines of Void Cage. Zharokath’s technique had rendered him immobile, buying him the precious moments he needed to rid himself of this cursed poison.

“When I get rid of this poison, I will personally make you food for dogs.”

With a grunt of effort, Zharokath reached toward his waist, his fingers twitching as he called upon his spatial storage. His vast collection of artifacts, gathered from across countless realms, contained the answer to every problem he had ever faced, and this situation would be no different.

‘Antidote… I just need the artifact,’ Zharokath thought, his smirk growing as he searched through the spatial void for the item he needed. The pressure in his chest, the burning in his veins, all of it would soon be purged once he found it.

As he focused on his storage, his mind swirled with confidence. The human, despite his tricks and this strange poison, was still powerless. Void Cage had trapped him, and Zharokath had the upper hand. He still had time. He could cleanse himself, recover, and crush this insolent fool beneath his heel.

Finally, his hand closed around the familiar shape of the artifact. A twisted, black amulet with a glowing red gem in the center—an ancient relic capable of cleansing any poison or foreign substance from his body. He pulled it from the spatial void, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

“Did you truly think you could defeat me, human?” Zharokath muttered, his voice dripping with contempt as he prepared to activate the artifact. “You’ve underestimated—”

SWOOSH!

Zharokath barely had time to react before something sharp sliced through the air. His fingers, which had been tightly clutching the amulet, were suddenly severed cleanly at the knuckles.

“ARGHHH!” Zharokath howled in agony, his eyes widening in shock as the twisted, black amulet slipped from his now-maimed hand and fell to the ground, clattering against the stone floor. His heart raced, panic flooding his senses as he stared at his bleeding fingers, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

But before he could process the pain or the loss of the artifact, another sharp whistling filled the air.

SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!

Countless chakrams, swirling with grey mana, flew from all directions, slicing into his body with terrifying precision. Each spinning blade cut deep, leaving trails of crimson blood in their wake. Zharokath’s body convulsed as the pain surged through him, his demonic form struggling to withstand the onslaught.

His heartbeat roared in his ears, a frantic rhythm that seemed to mock him with every thud. The poison, still coursing through his veins, combined with the relentless slashes from the chakrams, was too much for even his hardened body to endure.

More blood splattered across the ground, and Zharokath fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His once-commanding form now reduced to a trembling, broken mess. He coughed violently, blood spraying from his mouth as he tried to rise, only to find his strength slipping away.

Through the haze of pain and the crimson mist clouding his vision, Zharokath’s gaze fell on the young man.

Still unmoving. Still in the same position.

The young man hadn’t done anything—at least, not visibly. But Zharokath’s eyes, wild with confusion and pain, shifted to the young man’s fingers.

It was there he saw it.

The subtle flicker of movement. A quiet, controlled motion.

‘No…’ Zharokath’s mind screamed, but his body betrayed him, sinking lower as the poison and wounds drained the last of his energy. He had been watching all this time, confident that his Void Cage had rendered the human powerless, but the truth was far more horrifying.

The young man had been waiting. Not trapped. Not helpless.

He had been in control all along.

Zharokath’s breath came in ragged gasps, the taste of blood thick in his throat. His vision began to blur, darkness creeping in from the edges as the weight of his injuries pulled him down.

His pride, his arrogance, had led him to this moment.

“How…?” Zharokath choked out, his voice barely a whisper, filled with disbelief and fear. His eyes remained locked on the young man, who stood calmly, his gaze unwavering.

And at that moment, the young man finally turned his head to his face, his purple eyes meeting his.

“What do you mean how? You are just inferior.”