Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 608 135.6 - The Banquet

Silas Vayne—no, Zharokath—moved through the grand ballroom with the calm, measured grace that was expected of a man of his stature. His sharp, calculating gaze swept over the lavish surroundings, noting the opulence of the Cox estate, the glittering chandeliers, the polished marble floors, and the carefully curated gathering of influential figures. He observed it all with mild interest, but beneath the mask of composure, he felt nothing but disdain.

'Humans and their need to display wealth and power, as if it means anything,' he mused, his thoughts laced with contempt. 'These creatures believe that money and influence elevate them, make them important. How foolish.'

In his guise as Silas Vayne, Zharokath had spent years infiltrating human society, meticulously building connections and manipulating those around him to further his own agenda. He had cultivated the perfect identity—one that was respected, feared, and above all, trusted. But to him, this facade was nothing more than a convenient tool, a means to an end.

'If only they knew what truly lurks beneath the surface of their fragile little world,' he thought, a faint smirk threatening to tug at the corners of his lips. 'They prance about like kings and queens, but they are nothing more than insects—easily crushed underfoot.' n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The Cox family, in particular, amused him. Gerald Cox had risen to power with unnatural speed, thanks in no small part to the quiet manipulations Zharokath had orchestrated behind the scenes. But the man, like so many others, had no idea that he was merely a pawn. Even now, as Gerald played host to some of the most influential figures in the Federation, he was blissfully unaware of the demon who stood among his guests.

'Every time they think thy are in control,' Zharokath mused, his eyes flicking briefly toward the host. 'He believes he has secured powerful allies, that tonight will solidify his position among the elite. How amusing. He does not realize that his every step is guided by my hand.'

As Zharokath glided through the room, his attention shifted to the other key players in tonight's event. Argen Delvora, the ruthless businessman whose wealth and political influence extended far beyond the Federation, stood in conversation with Vivienne Althea, the cunning socialite who controlled the flow of information and rumors with a mere whisper. Both were important pieces in the game he was playing.

'They serve their purpose well enough,' he thought, eyeing them from a distance. Argen, with his ambition, and Vivienne, with her ability to manipulate.

'But like all humans, they are short-sighted. They believe they are making deals for wealth and power, but they cannot see the true nature of the bargain they are striking.'

The deal Zharokath was here to conclude tonight was of far greater importance than any human could comprehend. It wasn't simply about money or influence—it was about control. Control over the humans who would unknowingly serve his clan's greater purpose, control over the Federation's political landscape, and control over the demonic forces already creeping into their world.

And yet, Zharokath knew he had to be cautious. He was not so arrogant as to believe that he could flaunt his true nature openly.

The Void Clan, to which he belonged, needed to operate in the shadows since, from the moment their biggest strength had been injured, and needed to reincarnate and create a new body for himself.

'Tch...To be looked down and forced to come to this place….'

Because there were many other clans that were hunting his clan, he was forced to come to this human domain.

Zharokath had no intention of becoming one of their trophies.

And for that to happen, he needed to recover his strength as well as the strength of the great one.

As Zharokath's gaze flickered across the room, it briefly settled on the small, ornate necklace hanging from his neck. Its dull, unremarkable appearance masked the immense significance it carried—within the necklace, a fragment of the Void Clan's greatest power lay dormant, waiting to be revived. He reached up, fingers brushing against the cool metal, and his lips curled into a faint sneer of contempt.

'Great one, it will not take long. Don't worry,' he mumbled under his breath, the words barely audible, but laced with reverence. 'Soon, we will recover our strength. And once we do, no one will dare hunt us again.'

The thought filled him with a surge of dark satisfaction, but his arrogance was tempered by the weight of caution. The Void Clan had once ruled over realms far beyond this insignificant human world. But now, they were hunted, forced to hide in the shadows, their greatest strength injured and scattered. Zharokath had taken it upon himself to ensure their survival, to rebuild what had been lost. That was why he had come to this human domain—an exile of sorts, but a necessary one.

His eyes shifted again, drawn to a particular corner of the grand ballroom where most of tonight's attention seemed to gather. There she was—Maya Evergreen, the young lady of the powerful Evergreen family, standing amidst the crowd.

Zharokath's eyes narrowed as he studied her. Maya Evergreen… He had not expected her to attend this banquet. It was, after all, hosted by a lower-ranked noble family, a far cry from the kind of gatherings her status usually demanded. For a moment, her presence seemed out of place, almost suspicious.

But then, as he glanced over her file in his mind, the pieces began to fall into place.

'Of course,' he thought, his arrogance briefly giving way to a calculated understanding. 'The Evergreens are preparing her, easing her into environments like these to adapt. To observe.'

Zharokath continued to watch Maya Evergreen's every detail of her appearance, her movements, and the way she interacted with the people around her. From the nervousness in her posture to the slight tremor in her voice, she appeared every bit the young noblewoman stepping into unfamiliar territory, trying to find her footing in a world dominated by seasoned players.

Her gaze flickered to and from the guests, her smile wavering as she fumbled through small talk. Her hands, though gracefully clasped in front of her, occasionally betrayed her by fidgeting with the delicate fabric of her gown. Zharokath could see it all—each slip, each hesitation.

'A fish that has yet to grow,' he mused, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. 'She is still small, still inexperienced. A girl sent into the ocean without fully understanding the depths she's navigating.'

His initial assessment of her seemed accurate—she was not a threat. The Evergreens had sent her here not as a player, but as an observer, allowing her to grow accustomed to the political undercurrents that defined such gatherings. They were grooming her, teaching her to swim with the sharks without realizing the true danger that lurked beneath.

Zharokath almost dismissed her entirely as he prepared to refocus his attention on the more significant matters at hand. But then, something stopped him. A flicker of energy, faint yet unmistakable, brushed against his senses. He paused, his gaze narrowing as he focused more intently on the girl standing across the ballroom.

'What is this…?'

The sensation was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone without his keen perception. But to Zharokath, it was undeniable—a faint resonance of demonic energy, something that stirred within him the moment his gaze lingered on her for too long.

His smile faded, replaced by a deepening frown. The energy wasn't strong, not enough to suggest she was a demon herself, but it was there. A whisper of something familiar, something dark. It tugged at his awareness, an echo of his own power resonating from the girl.

'This is… unexpected.' Zharokath's mind raced as he searched for an explanation. The resonance was not something he had anticipated, and it left him with more questions than answers. Was it possible that Maya Evergreen had come into contact with something—someone—demonic?

'No, this is more than just contact,' he thought, his sharp eyes narrowing further. 'There's something inside her, something that responds to my presence.'

He watched her more closely now, his attention no longer casual but focused, predatory.

'Or had someone of our kind already planning to use her?'

The longer he observed her, the clearer the sensation became. It was faint, yes, but undeniably there—a thread of demonic energy woven deep within her being.

Zharokath's eyes gleamed with a newfound hunger as the realization settled in. There was something inside Maya Evergreen—a thread of demonic energy woven into her very being. A spark of dark potential, waiting to be manipulated. His frown faded, replaced by a slow, predatory smile. This unexpected development had turned the evening into something far more intriguing than he had anticipated.

'Heh… What a surprise this is,' he thought, his mind already whirling with the possibilities. 'If there's a demonic presence within her, then influencing her will be far easier than I thought. Someone has already done the groundwork for me.'

The idea of bending the girl to his will filled him with dark satisfaction. Maya Evergreen—naïve, inexperienced, and apparently carrying a demonic connection—was now a target he couldn't afford to ignore. And the best part? She didn't seem to be aware of it. That made her even more vulnerable.

Zharokath licked his lips, the taste of opportunity tantalizing him. His fingers brushed the surface of the table beside him, feeling the cool glass as his gaze stayed locked on Maya, who was still conversing with a small group of nobles, unaware of the predator in the room.

'Such a pleasant opportunity,' he mused, his smile growing darker. 'How could I possibly let it go now?'

With the calculated ease of a seasoned manipulator, Zharokath straightened his posture and adjusted the cufflinks on his immaculately tailored suit. There was still some time left before his meeting with Gerald Cox—time he could use to introduce himself to the girl. After all, this wasn't just a social gathering anymore; it had become a hunt.

He began to move, his steps deliberate, gliding across the room with an effortless grace that masked his true nature. To any observer, he was merely the influential Silas Vayne, a man of power and refinement. But beneath the surface, Zharokath was already plotting how to ensnare Maya in his web.

As he approached the group Maya was standing with, he caught the faintest edge of her voice—a careful, soft tone that fit the image of a young lady eager to learn but out of her depth. Her nervousness was palpable, her eyes darting between the guests around her, and Zharokath couldn't help but find it amusing.

'She really is a beautiful piece,' he thought. 'But soon, she'll be playing my game.'

As he neared, the guests parted slightly, noticing his approach. Zharokath flashed a charming smile, the kind that made people lower their guard, and inclined his head toward Maya and her companions.

"Lady Evergreen," he began, his voice smooth, exuding warmth and respect, "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting yet."