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.
Zharokath's smile never wavered as he reached out, his fingers brushing against the boy's cheek, cold and unnervingly gentle. "Don't worry," he murmured. "You will soon start to like it."
Saying that he leaned in closer, his cold, predatory smile never leaving his face.
–SLURP!
He licked the young boy on the face.
'Ah…..So good…'
The salty sweat stemming from the fear, cold skin shivering…..
The heart that was beating so fast…
Everything was to his taste.
The young boy's breath quickened in fear, his wide eyes reflecting pure terror. Zharokath's presence was overwhelming, his aura suffocating, making the air feel thick with malice.
The boy's trembling grew more violent as Zharokath's face drew near, his sharp, glowing eyes staring deep into the boy's soul.
–STAB!
Without warning, Zharokath's otherworldly claws extended from his hand, gleaming darkly in the dim light.
He moved with unnerving slowness, almost as if he were savoring the moment before the inevitable agony.
The young boy, paralyzed by fear, could only manage a stifled whimper as Zharokath's claws plunged into his shoulder, piercing flesh and bone with terrifying ease.
"AAAAAAAH!"
The boy screamed in pain, his body jolting violently, but Zharokath held him in place with an iron grip.
The searing heat of fire-attributed mana flowed through Zharokath's claws, burning the young man's skin from within and causing it to blister and crack.
The smell of charred flesh filled the room as the flames licked the boy's skin, melting it away like wax.
As Zharokath watched the young man writhe in agony, his lips curled into a wicked smile, a dark thrill coursing through him. The boy's desperate screams and the crackling of his seared flesh filled the room, creating a symphony of suffering that Zharokath savored with twisted delight.
'Ah… the sounds of pain,' he thought, his glowing eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. 'There is nothing quite like it. So pure, so primal. It's the only true form of expression these fragile beings possess. No lies. No pretense. Just raw, unfiltered agony.'
The boy's body convulsed under Zharokath's grip, his cries growing weaker as the fire gnawed at him from the inside. His skin bubbled and blackened, the smell of burning flesh intoxicating to Zharokath's senses.
'Look at him,' Zharokath mused, his claws still embedded in the boy's shoulder, sending wave after wave of searing heat through his body. 'So weak, so powerless. These humans think they understand pain, but they know nothing of true suffering.'
He leaned in closer, his voice a soft, mocking whisper as the boy gasped for air. "Does it hurt, little one?" Zharokath asked, his tone dripping with false concern. "This is just a taste of what's to come."
The boy's eyes, wide with terror, flickered with desperation, but his voice was lost in the overwhelming pain that consumed him. He couldn't even muster the strength to beg for mercy—his body was too broken, too overwhelmed by the flames that were slowly devouring him.
'Ah, yes… this is ecstasy,' Zharokath thought, his smile widening as he felt the boy's life force flicker under the weight of his torment. 'To see them reduced to this—nothing but trembling, broken creatures begging for release. This is the power we were meant to wield.'
Zharokath slowly withdrew his claws, the sickening squelch of torn flesh accompanying the motion. The boy collapsed to the ground, his body twitching as the last remnants of the fire-attributed mana sizzled under his skin.
The demon stood over him, relishing the sight. The boy's chest heaved, his breaths shallow and labored, his eyes glazed over in pain. He was on the edge of consciousness, clinging desperately to life.
Zharokath knelt down, bringing his face close to the boy's ear. "This is the fate of all who serve me," he whispered, his voice low and filled with cruel promise. "But you should consider yourself lucky. You get to feel it firsthand."
The boy's body shuddered, another whimper escaping his lips, but he was too far gone to respond.
Zharokath rose to his feet, looking down at the broken creature before him. 'Pathetic,' he thought, though there was no anger in his mind—only cold satisfaction. 'They break so easily. But it's the breaking that makes it so sweet.'
His tongue flicked across his lips as his fangs elongated, sharp and gleaming in the dim light of his chambers. The sight of the boy lying before him, broken and defeated, stirred something deeper within—the primal hunger that came with his true nature.
He crouched again, his gaze fixated on the trembling form beneath him. The boy, barely conscious, was too far gone to even realize what was coming next. His glazed-over eyes reflected the demon's towering form, a pitiful sight that only heightened Zharokath's twisted pleasure.
'Yes…' Zharokath thought, his fangs glistening in the faint glow of the fire. 'This is what humans are meant for. To be consumed, to fuel my power.'
He leaned in as his demonic form started showing up to consume his meal.
SWOOSH!
But just as he was about to take a bite, suddenly he sensed something.
STAB!
"Huh?"
On the right side of his heart, a hole was there.
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