Chapter 617 136.7 - The Hunt

Chapter 617 136.7 - 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.

'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."