Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 622

Chapter 622: Chapter 136.12 – The Hunt [Interlude]
The moment Zharokath’s trembling hand drove the dagger into his chest, a sickening spurting sound filled the air as blood erupted from the wound, dark and viscous, staining the floor beneath him. His body jerked violently for a split second, and then, as if all the life had been drained from him in an instant, he collapsed.

The blade had pierced his heart. His eyes, once filled with terror, now stared lifelessly ahead, dull and empty, like glass marbles that had lost their luster. His body lay motionless, a grotesque reminder of his final, pitiful act of surrender.

I stood over him, watching as his blood spread across the stone floor in slow, creeping tendrils. The sound of his labored, fading breath echoed faintly in the room.

“Hrrrr…Hrrr…”

His breath, filled with a hurling sound echoed.

Zharokath’s body twitched as he lay in a growing pool of his own blood, his breath coming out in ragged, wheezing gasps. His eyes—glassy and empty—stared up at me, his life slowly ebbing away. But even in this final moment, he clung to a sliver of existence, his broken body refusing to give in completely.

“Hrrrr… Hrrr…” the hurling sound echoed in the chamber, his chest heaving weakly with each shallow breath.

I watched him, my mind eerily calm, detached even, as I observed the once-proud demon’s final moments. There was no victory here, no triumph in watching him suffer—just a slow, inevitable end. The same end that awaited all creatures who overreached, who believed they were above fate.

But it doesn’t end here, I thought to myself, my gaze drifting to the faint glow pulsing beneath Zharokath’s chest. His Demonic Core. The true source of his power. The heart of his existence.

For a moment, I stood still, letting the weight of this moment sink in. Then, without a word, I began to channel mana into my hands, the energy swirling around my fingers, amplifying with each passing second. The shadows around me pulsed in response, a reflection of the power I had claimed.

I stepped closer, standing over Zharokath’s barely living form. With my enhanced vision, I could see it clearly now—the glowing core hidden within his chest, pulsing weakly with the remnants of his demonic energy. It was fragile, flickering like a dying flame, but it still held the last of his essence.

I knelt beside him, my fingers crackling with energy. I didn’t bother with words or explanations; there was no need. Zharokath was beyond hearing, beyond understanding. He was nothing now, just a shell of what he had once been.

With precision, I thrust my hand into his chest, feeling the resistance of his body for only a moment before my fingers wrapped around the Demonic Core. It was cold, pulsating weakly against my hand, its once immense power reduced to a faint flicker.

Zharokath’s body jerked at the intrusion, his breath hitching, but there was no fight left in him. His eyes fluttered, unfocused, barely aware of what was happening.

I tightened my grip around the core, feeling the raw, corrupted energy coursing through it. It was weak now, but I could still feel the immense potential it once held—the power that had driven him, the strength he had relied on.

With a cold finality, I crushed the core in my hand.

CRACK.

The core shattered, and for a split second, Zharokath’s body convulsed violently, his eyes widening in shock. Then, with one last gasp, his form went limp, the remnants of his demonic energy exploding outward in a burst of dark light before dissipating into nothingness.

It was over.

I stood up slowly, watching as the last traces of Zharokath’s essence faded into the air, leaving only his lifeless body behind. His Demonic Core, the source of his power, was gone. And with it, the last vestiges of his life.

‘This….”

But then, just as he had died, following that, a sudden rush of energy, dark and twisted, surged into me.

My body tensed as I felt the demonic energy seep into my veins. It was faint at first, but quickly intensified, spreading through me like wildfire. My breath hitched as the power coiled within me, merging with my own mana, integrating itself into every fiber of my being.

I instinctively activated my [Eyes], and in an instant, I saw it—the demonic energy, swirling inside me, flowing into my core and melding with the essence that already resided there. It was different from anything I had felt before—dark, raw, yet somehow… invigorating.

‘So, this is how [Vengeful Bane] feels when a real demon is killed,’ I mused, feeling the power settle within me. It wasn’t just energy. It was more than that. My entire body felt stronger, and sharper. My senses heightened as if my muscles had been reinforced, my bones tougher, my vitality surging with newfound strength.

I clenched my fists experimentally, feeling the ripple of power just beneath the surface of my skin. Every movement was more fluid, and more responsive, as if my body had been revitalized from the inside out. And beyond that, there was a strange clarity, a heightened awareness that accompanied this demonic energy now woven into me.

‘Killing a fully-fledged demon…’

The nature of [Vengeful Bane]—to absorb the strength of demons upon their death—was something I had known, but experiencing it firsthand was something that had not happened.

Previously, all the times that I had killed a demon, either MistWraith, the Primordial of Shadows, the Vampire, or Belthazor, I fell unconscious following that.

But this time I was fully conscious of everything that had happened here.

‘This power… it’s intoxicating,’ I thought, feeling the pulse of energy in my body. But I pushed down the sensation, forcing myself to remain composed.

The surge of power coursing through me was undeniable, but it wasn’t the reason I had come here. My true purpose remained. Zharokath had been nothing more than a stepping stone, a necessary piece in a much larger game.

As the last remnants of his demonic essence faded, my gaze shifted to his neck. There, barely visible in the dim light, was a necklace—a thin chain that had gone unnoticed until now. It pulsed faintly, the glow almost imperceptible, but to my [Eyes], it was clear. This was no ordinary trinket.

‘So, there it is…’ I thought, narrowing my gaze. The faint shine emanating from the necklace was the key to something far greater than Zharokath. The entrance to the location of the Primordial Demon of the Void Clan—the Void Dragon itself.

The Void Dragon, is a creature of legend, a being of immense power tied to the Void Clan. Zharokath had been working toward its revival for centuries, but all that time, the path had been hidden. Now, as I stared at the glowing necklace, I knew it was within my grasp.

I knelt down, careful not to disturb Zharokath’s limp form any more than necessary, and reached for the necklace. As my fingers brushed against the chain, I felt a surge of energy, different from the demonic power that had just been absorbed. It was… colder. Darker. A void, much like the entity it was linked to.

‘This is the key to the entrance,’ I thought. ‘The gateway to where the Void Dragon sleeps.’

That was indeed the case.

The entrance to the gateway where the Void Dragon slept.

I pulled the necklace from his neck, and as it left Zharokath’s body, the faint glow grew stronger. The air around me seemed to shift, a subtle disturbance in the mana as if the space itself was reacting to the presence of the necklace.

Holding it in my hand, I could feel the immense power tied to it. This was no ordinary artifact. It was a key—a key that would lead me to the heart of the Void Clan’s legacy, the place where the Primordial of Void, the Void Dragon, awaited.

The weight of the task ahead settled on me, but I remained composed. There was no room for hesitation. This was the next step, the next challenge in a journey that had already taken me further than I could have imagined.

With the necklace secured, I stood up, glancing once more at Zharokath’s lifeless body. His defeat was only a prelude. The real battle was yet to come.

CREAK!

Just at that moment, I sensed a small movement from the side.

That faint sound of movement caught my attention, pulling me from the dark thoughts swirling around the Void Dragon and the legacy of the Void Clan. I turned my head sharply toward the source, my [Eyes] already focusing, instincts honed from years of battles kicking in.

There, emerging from the shadows at the far end of the chamber, was the same young child I had seen when I first entered this place. The one Zharokath had been about to devour. His small frame trembled, his eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and confusion.

I had almost forgotten about him in the chaos of the battle.

At that time, Zharokath had been distracted, giving me the opening I needed to strike. The boy had served as an unintentional shield.

‘But…’

But, even then, there was nothing in that kid’s eyes.

Pure emptiness, devoid of anything.

‘It is familiar.’

The gaze of someone who had lost everything and had no reason to live.

The gaze of someone who was tormented for just living by.

The boy’s eyes—those hollow, empty eyes—stared at me, trembling but unresponsive. There was no spark of life in them, no flicker of hope.

Just a void.

A gaze I knew all too well.

He was just like me.