Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

As the haunting echoes of the men whose souls had no longer belonged to themselves sounded in her head, the woman on the throne continued to indulge in the intoxicating dance of her thoughts. The crimson liquid within the glass mirrored the storm outside, its deep hue reflecting the complexity of her emotions.

Leaning back against the ominous throne, the woman's eyes, like shards of wine, gazed into the abyss of her memories. The dance of shadows, once confined to the red-lit room, now wove itself into the fabric of her contemplation. The enigma of her past unfolded like a dark novel, each chapter revealing a layer of her mysterious existence.

"It had been a while since I felt like this," she mused her voice a sultry whisper that resonated with the echoes of the shadows. Her fingers traced patterns on the surface of the wine-filled chalice, a silent acknowledgment of the power she derived from the intoxicating concoction.

With a languid swirl of her glass, she brought the crimson liquid to her lips, savoring the rich taste as though it held the essence of her own power. The room seemed to quiver with her every movement as if it, too, succumbed to the enchantment she exuded.

"I can't help it, though," she confessed, her gaze fixed on the depths of the wine. The allure of the liquid seemed to amplify the haunting whispers in her mind, a symphony of voices that spoke of ancient grudges and long-forgotten vendettas.

Her movements continued, a seamless ballet of allure, as she crossed her long, white legs. The shadows danced in homage to her, the very air bowing to the presence of the queen who held court over her own kingdom of shadows.

Leaning forward, she peered into the crimson depths of the wine, her reflection distorted by the shifting liquid. A wicked smile played upon her lips as she mumbled to herself about the demise of her foolish brother, someone she hadn't seen in a hundred years.

"Foolish Belthazor," she murmured, her words caressing the air like a forbidden incantation. "To think you met your end in such a mundane way. A hundred years of absence, and this is the fate you chose."

Her eyes, twin pools of darkness, remained fixed on her reflection, the storm outside reflecting in the depths of the red wine.

"Yet, no matter how foolish you are, you are my brother at the end. Your end should have never happened this fast."

As she uttered those words, she slowly raised her hand, fingers adorned with long, claw-like nails that gleamed in the ambient light. With a languid grace, she admired her own beauty, the power she exuded palpable in the very air around her.

'Should I check the strings of fate?'

Closing her eyes momentarily, she began to delve into the depths of her ancient powers. The room seemed to respond to her call, and shadows gathered, shrouding everything in darkness. A pregnant pause filled the air, a prelude to the unfolding mysteries that lay beneath the surface.

–FOOSH!

Suddenly, the room transformed. A dense red fog, thick and ethereal, enveloped the space, obscuring the throne, the wine, and the haunting shadows.

It was within this crimson mist that the woman could discern two silhouettes engaged in a fierce battle.

One figure soared through the air with wings outstretched, an ethereal presence illuminated by the faint glow of the moon.

The other, grounded and resolute, faced the airborne assailant with countless different weapons.

'Ho? Would you look at that? He really was awakened secretly.'

She thought as the battle unfolded in the surreal haze. The one soaring with wings was Belthazor, her foolish brother, as most of the time, her kin was represented in such a way in mysticism.

'But, who is this?'

That meant the figure on the ground was the mysterious assailant, the one responsible for his untimely demise.

Her eyes widened as the moonlight seemed to shine upon the figure suddenly!

'Moon….?'

The moon could represent many things in her visions as she used to use her ability more frequently, yet this was the first time she had seen the moonlight directly shining upon someone. Most of the time, the moonlight would just appear in the background with different colors as if to symbolize some sort of ritual.

Either it was red, silver, blue, or many others. The red moon symbolized vampires; silver blood symbolized werewolves; the blue moon symbolized witches of blue fire and many others.

However, she stood in a very different phenomenon that she had never encountered.

'Colors of the moon are constantly changing.'

It was akin to showing that something was fundamentally different from what she had expected. One's race couldn't be changed in such a fast way, and it wasn't a shapeshifter in any case.

As the surreal battle unfolded before her, the woman watched with a keen interest, her mouth curling into a twisted smile.

"Hahaha…."

The crimson mist swirled with the chaotic energy of the conflict, and her laughter, low and haunting, echoed through the obscure space.

"Interesting….What is this, I wonder?"

Finally, she had found something intriguing, something that stirred the stagnant pool of her ancient existence. The unpredictable nature of the moon's glow upon the enigmatic figure intrigued her, and she reveled in the mystery that unfolded in the midst of the crimson fog.

–SLURP!

She licked her lips as she attempted to stand from her throne and got out. However, an invisible force, not comprehensible by the ordinary senses, held her back.

"Tch…"

She clicked her tongue in frustration, realizing the seal was still too strong, and she couldn't leave her place.

The laughter that had rung with amusement now took on a darker tone as her smile widened. Her eyes glinted with a malevolent gleam, and she mumbled to herself, "If I can't get out, perhaps I can bring him here."

She raised her hand, conjuring a sphere of red color around her, and following that, she saw the face of someone in the sphere.

It was a woman, her subordinate.

"Zafira," she whispered, the name rolling off her tongue like a sultry incantation. The sphere glowed with an otherworldly light as the face of the succubus materialized within it.

*******

The night was draped in darkness, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of the moon and the distant shimmering stars.

"Maaan….This is the life…."

A man in his late thirties drove down the winding road in his sleek, expensive car.

–WROOM!

The engine's purr resonated in the quiet night, echoing through the empty spaces between the trees that lined the desolate highway.

His mood was buoyant, fueled by the recent success of his dubious endeavors. The man possessed a unique trait after awakening, [Deceit] – a mastery of persuasion that allowed him to manipulate the unsuspecting.

"Those old dogs must be dreaming about the 'imaginary free' money they would be receiving tonight."

He had recently swindled a considerable amount of money from a group of naive elderly individuals who had fallen prey to his silver tongue.

"Ahahahaahah….I love how stupid the humans are…."

With a triumphant grin, he reached for a can of beer in the cup holder, the cold metal sending a shiver down his spine.

Popping it open, he took a triumphant gulp, the fizzy liquid adding to the euphoria of his ill-gotten gains. The car's interior was dimly lit by the soft glow of the dashboard, casting a subtle gleam on his satisfied expression.

As he continued to revel in his victory, his eyes expertly scanning the surroundings for potential pleasures, he suddenly noticed a silhouette on the corner of the road.

Despite the darkness, his eyes, already expert at finding beautiful women, instantly recognized the shape of a woman with a captivating figure. When he was young, he never missed whomever he pursued.

His foot eased off the gas pedal, and the car coasted to a slower pace. Intrigued, he squinted into the night, trying to discern the details of the mysterious woman on the roadside, then saw the probably most beautiful face he had ever seen before.

A cascade of raven-black hair framed a face so flawless it seemed sculpted by the divine. The moonlight played upon her features, enhancing the allure of her captivating gaze and delicate features.

A slender figure stood there, bathed in an ethereal glow, as if she were a specter woven into the fabric of the night.

Snapping out of his stupor, the man quickly rolled down his car window and called out to the mysterious woman. "Hey! What are you doing out here on such a cold night?"

'I can't miss such an opportunity.'

The woman turned towards him, her eyes meeting his with an enigmatic gleam. "My car broke down, and I was hoping to find someone kind enough to offer assistance."

A sly grin stretched across the man's face as he heard her words. "Well, it seems fate has brought me here just in time. I can't resist the call of destiny, can you?" He chuckled, the arrogance in his voice veiled by a charming tone.

The woman's lips curled into a subtle smile. "Perhaps it has," she replied, her voice soft and melodic.

Without missing a beat, the man extended an invitation. "How about I give you a ride? I'm sure we can sort out your car troubles together."

She considered his offer for a moment, her gaze piercing through the darkness. "That would be most gracious of you," she finally said, her tone carrying a hint of 'gratitude.'

The man unlocked the car doors, and she gracefully slid into the passenger seat. As the sleek vehicle pulled back onto the road, the air inside the car seemed to hum.

The man couldn't resist the opportunity to fill the silence, and he began chatting flirtatiously with the mysterious woman beside him.

"So, what brings you out on a night like this?" he inquired, his eyes occasionally darting away from the road to appraise her beauty.

She responded with a measured tone, "Just a stroke of misfortune with my car. But fate has a funny way of bringing people together, doesn't it?"

He chuckled, taking a moment to ogle at her as they idled at the traffic lights. His eyes lingered over her figure, appreciating every curve as if they were a masterpiece. The woman's expression remained composed, and she seemed unfazed by his invasive gaze.

The man, now growing bolder, asked, "A woman like you must be afraid of men at night, right? There are so many predators out there."

Her gaze shifted towards him, and she asked, "Are you one of them?"

The question caught him off guard, but he smirked and replied, "What would you do if I were?"

Her lips curved into a mysterious smile. "This," she said, and with a flick of her fingers, two small droplets of blood flew from her fingertips, penetrating the air.

Before the man could react, the droplets struck him square in the face, the warm liquid stinging his eyes. He instinctively clutched his face, the pain and surprise evident in his muffled exclamations.

"Your insolent eyes savored my body quite a long while."

And the last voice he had heard was the cold voice filled with arrogance, as he experienced the most painful moments of his life….

"Haaaah….This is it…"

Just as the woman was reveling by herself, suddenly she heard a voice in her head.

❰Zafira❱

An ethereal voice that she hadn't heard in a long while.

'Lady?'

❰It seems you haven't forgotten about me.❱

'How dare I forget about you, my lady?'

❰Cease your pleasantries. I have a mission for you.❱

'A mission.'

❰Belthazor is dead. The one responsible must be found and brought to me.❱

The news echoed through her consciousness, and the woman's eyes gleamed with a newfound intensity. The voice continued, entrusting Zafira with a mission – to find the killer of Belthazor and bring 'him' to her.

Zafira's lips curled into a confident smile. "I shall fulfill this mission, my Lady. The perpetrator will be brought before you."