Forsaken Hunter

Chapter 19: The Forsaken Hunter Rises Again

Chapter 19 - The Forsaken Hunter Rises AgainBeno Mark sat motionless on the worn leather sofa, its cracked surface creaking faintly under him. His head hung low, fingers clawing into his knees—knuckles white, veins bulging as if they'd burst through his skin. His mind was a maelstrom—thoughts crashing like thunder, shredding each other in a desperate scramble for answers.

Renzo doesn't hate me. The certainty blazed—fierce, unyielding, a lifeline in the chaos.

But then... why?

Why had Renzo spent years crushing him—treating him like an insect, a speck unworthy of notice? What had he seen that day—the day their father's blood painted the earth red? Why had his warmth turned to ice, his gaze venomous, his words jagged blades? Why did he blame Beno? What was the lie?

A sharp ache stabbed his skull—each question a relentless spike, spiraling with no escape. His chest tightened—breath shallow, ragged—his heart pounding so hard it felt like it'd shatter his ribs. Yet one truth cut through—unshakable.

Renzo was getting stronger.

And if Beno didn't catch up—if he didn't breach the Violent Gate before it slipped away—he'd lose him. Forever.

A bitter wind screamed across the rooftop, clawing at Luna's leather jacket as she crouched near the edge. Lebius City sprawled below—a concrete jungle pulsing with neon veins, their glow flickering through the relentless drizzle. Rain streaked cold and steady, slicking the metal under her gloved hands, the air biting with wet steel and faint smoke.

"Charles, anything?" Her voice sliced through—sharp, steady.

Charles stood a few steps off—Amber eyes narrowed, scouring the jagged skyline. His magic ward rested against his shoulder, gunpowder's tang lingering faintly. "No." He exhaled—frustration flashing in his gaze. "But I've got a bad feeling. That shot... no amateur could pull it off."

Luna's brows knitted—Blue eyes glinting. "What makes you so sure?"

He tapped his temple—slow, deliberate. "The angle. The wind. The timing—perfect. And they're gone. No footprints, no trace. That's assassin-level precision."

She clicked her tongue—tch—irritation flaring. "Annoying as hell."

Rising, she stretched—joints popping, shaking off stiffness. "Forget it for now. We need to check on Beno."

Charles holstered his ward—smirk tugging his lips. "Yeah, before he drowns in that thick skull of his."

Room No. 22 was a dim hollow—city hum seeping through cracked windows, shadows pooling thick in the corners. Beno hadn't moved. His presence loomed—suffocating, the air heavy with his silence. His breath rasped steady, but his eyes...

Empty. Cold. Distant.

A void that sent a shiver down Luna's spine.

She stepped closer—heart sinking, a quiet ache blooming in her chest. "Beno," she said—soft, tentative, her voice trembling just enough to betray her worry.

Nothing.

Her throat tightened—steps faltering as she closed the gap. "Beno!" Louder now, edged with desperation, her golden eyes

A voice pierced the stillness—bold, teasing. "Oh? Missing big brother already?"

Renzo didn't flinch.

Sophia Ainsworth—S-Rank legend—strode forward, crimson cloak whipping in the wind. Her amber eyes gleamed—amusement veiling curiosity as she crouched beside him.

His face hardened—photo tucked away. "It's not like that."

She tilted her head—playful, pressing. "Sure? No one's watching. Be real with me."

Silence—his fingers tightening on his sleeve, voice a whisper. "I just want him safe."

Sophia froze—his words raw, unyielding, cutting through her jest. A softness flickered in her eyes—brief, unguarded.

"My brother's weak... innocent." His jaw clenched—gaze darkening. "I won't let my mess swallow him."

She leaned back—studying him, voice musing. "But if he awakens..." A pause—eyes narrowing. "He'll chase you, won't he?"

Something dangerous flashed in Renzo's icy-blue eyes. "I prepared for that."

Sophia's frown deepened—voice low. "What do you mean?"

He pulled a worn tape recorder from his coat—edges scratched, faded. "I left him this." His tone steadied—firm, quiet. "If he unravels the shadow's riddle, he'll find his path."

Sophia's breath caught—cryptic words hanging heavy, hinting at a deeper game. Before she could press—

"Commander! Enemies incoming!"

A shout sliced through—urgent, jagged.

Renzo turned—eyes sharpening like daggers, piercing the horizon. Maro—A-Rank veteran, tall and muscled—rushed up, sweat streaking his brow, breath ragged but eyes blazing.

"They're here. Full battalion. Heavily armed."

Renzo's hand twitched—excitement, not fear.

He rose—slow, deliberate—the ground trembling beneath him.

"Prepare for battle." His voice—calm, absolute—rang with command.

Hunters snapped alive—weapons drawn, magic flaring like a brewing storm, the air crackling with power.

Renzo faced the battlefield—the horizon shifting, a sea of shadows rising from crimson mist. Blue-Flame Armored Orcs surged—cerulean armor flickering like hellfire, roars shaking the earth, a tide of fury and steel.

His lips curled—savage, wild.

"They want war?"

His aura erupted—raw, suffocating, warping the air with its weight. Rocks splintered—ground cracking under his presence.

He raised his sword—blade glinting like night's edge.

"ATTACK!" His roar split the sky—thunder unleashed.

High above, atop a ruined citadel, the air grew still—a suffocating hush swallowing sound. Shadows thickened—coiling like living tendrils around crumbling spires, the crimson sky dimming as if recoiling.

A faint hum pulsed—low, ominous—vibrating through the stone, a prelude to dread.

A figure emerged—sinister amber eyes gleaming from the gloom, cutting through the haze like twin flames. His black cloak billowed in the cursed wind—ragged edges fluttering like raven wings, his silhouette towering against the fractured sky. The citadel groaned beneath him—stone cracking faintly, as if bowing to an unseen weight.

A smirk curled his lips—slow, wicked—baring razor-sharp teeth that glinted with malice.

"So..." His voice rumbled—deep, resonant, a tremor in the air. "This is the Isolated Brat. Renzo Mark."

A low chuckle followed—dark, amused, laced with a terror that sank into the bones.

A shadowed figure knelt beside him—head bowed, voice trembling. "My Lord, he's the one who butchered our elite forces."

The smirk widened—eyes narrowing with cruel delight. "Then it's time we repay him."

He turned—black-iron boots striking stone, each step a dull thud echoing like a war drum. His presence thickened the air—oppressive, a storm brewing in silence.

"Raise your weapons." His command spilled forth—carnage given voice, a pause stretching taut. "Let the Isolated Hunter learn what it means to defy the Demon King."

Behind him, a legion of darkness rises—nightmare warriors clad in infernal steel, weapons dripping with the blood of fallen worlds. Their roar shakes the citadel—fury splitting the air.

"HAIL, DEMON KING ZERATOTH!"

The battle for the Violent Gate ignites—unstoppable, apocalyptic.

[End of Chapter]