Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

I moved through the shadows, my presence completely erased, slipping unnoticed through the town's deserted streets. The air was crisp, the chill biting at my skin as I made my way toward my next destination.

'First, I need to visit the cemetery,' I thought to myself, but there was something I had to see before that. The house of Maria and Damian.

As I approached the house, I could see that the windows were dark, the curtains drawn. It made sense, considering the fact that I revealed everything before them and then disappeared. They must think I am still here.

And that is correct, as I am indeed.

I moved silently, slipping into the house through a shadowed corner where the door hung slightly ajar. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of despair. It didn't take long to find them—Maria was lying on a small cot, her eyes red and swollen from tears, while Damian sat beside her, speaking in a low, comforting voice.

"I'll figure something out, Mama," Damian was saying, his voice strained but determined. "I will protect you."

"You don't need to worry, son," Maria said as she looked at him. "That boy, he was not someone who would harm innocent."

"How can you be that sure?"

"I could see in his eyes."

It seemed they were talking about me. That made sense for Damian to think such for me, as I am indeed not someone who is good at expressing myself from my eyes.

"Is that so?"

The moment I revealed myself from the shadows, Damian's reaction was immediate and instinctual. His eyes widened in shock, and he flinched back, his hand darting behind him to grab the knife he had hidden. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light as he held it out defensively, his body tense and ready to strike.

"Don't approach me!" Damian's voice was shaky, filled with a mix of fear and determination.

I met his gaze, unflinching, and simply shook my head. "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be dead. There's no need for that knife."

My words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Damian seemed to waver. The tension in his body didn't fully dissipate, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he processed what I had said.

Maria, who had been watching the exchange with wide, tear-filled eyes, reached out and placed a hand on Damian's shoulder. She shook her head gently, her voice soft but firm. "Damian put it down. He's right… If he meant us harm, he wouldn't be standing here talking."

Damian hesitated, his grip on the knife tightening for a brief moment before he finally lowered it. His eyes remained locked on mine, wary but no longer hostile.

"What do you want?" Maria asked, her voice carrying a note of exhaustion. "Haven't you already seen everything there is to see?"

I studied her for a moment before responding, my tone even. "One last thing."

Maria's brows furrowed in confusion, but before she could ask what I meant, I turned my gaze to Damian. "Where is Abigail buried?"

The question struck them both like a physical blow. Damian's eyes widened in surprise and fear, and Maria's breath hitched, her face paling as she clutched the edge of the cot for support.

"Why do you want to know?" Damian asked, his voice trembling. "What are you planning to do?"

"Nothing much," I said. "I just want to visit."

"Why?"

"To have one final talk."

"...." Maria closed her eyes, her expression one of deep sorrow. "She… She wasn't given a proper burial," she whispered. "We couldn't… We couldn't give her the peace she deserved."

Damian looked at his mother with concern, then back at me. "She's not buried in the cemetery. They wouldn't allow it."

"So where is she?" I pressed.

Damian hesitated, glancing at his mother before finally speaking. "There's an old tree, deep in the forest, near the edge of town. We buried her there, away from everyone. It was the only place we could think of."

Maria nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she spoke. "It was the only place where she could be at peace, away from the people who hurt her. But… but even then, I'm not sure if she ever found peace."

"She did not," I answered as I moved to leave.

Maria looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and despair. "Please… if you can do anything to ease her suffering… please, do it. She doesn't deserve this."

"I will."

As I moved toward the door, Damian's voice called out to me, hesitant but sincere. "Why… Why are you doing this? You don't owe us anything. You don't even know her."

I paused, looking back at him. "I'm not doing it for you," I replied simply. "I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do. And I suggest you get ready for the future. Things will get hard from now on."

"What do you mean?"

"What else? The girl.... She will get her revenge."

And with that, I slipped back into the shadows, heading toward the forest and the hidden grave where Abigail Carpenter's spirit still lingered, bound by the pain and suffering of her past.

*******

The forest was eerily quiet as I made my way deeper into the woods, guided only by the faint moonlight filtering through the thick canopy above. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a stark contrast to the crispness of the night air in town.

As I neared the place Damian had described, I activated my [Eyes], scanning the area for any sign of the energy I had sensed earlier. It didn't take long before I saw it—a dark, pulsing aura that clung to the air like a thick fog.

The same energy I had detected in the shed, the energy of the abyss, was concentrated here. It was undeniable; this was where Abigail's spirit was anchored, her soul bound by the pain and suffering she had endured.

I followed the trail of energy until I reached the base of the gnarled tree. Its roots twisted out of the ground like skeletal fingers, and the bark was scarred and weathered as if it had borne witness to countless years of torment.

The air around the tree was heavy, almost suffocating, as if the very ground was weighed down by the sorrow that emanated from it.

'This is the place,' I thought, my gaze narrowing as I focused on the energy swirling around the tree. The darkness here was palpable, a physical presence that pressed against my senses. It wasn't just the remnants of Abigail's suffering; it was something deeper, more malevolent, a force that had twisted her spirit into something vengeful and dangerous.

As I approached the grave, the air grew colder, and suddenly, a piercing screech shattered the silence.

The sound was filled with rage and anguish, a cry that echoed through the trees, sending a chill down my spine. Before I could react, a cloud of darkness surged toward me, moving with unnatural speed, like a living shadow intent on tearing me apart.

But I was ready.

With a swift movement, I sidestepped the attack, the darkness barely missing me as it lashed out with wild fury. As it passed, I reached out, my hand moving with practiced precision, and I grabbed hold of the dark cloud, feeling its icy tendrils coil around my arm.

I tightened my grip on the writhing darkness, feeling its cold, malevolent energy coil tighter around my arm, almost as if it were trying to devour me whole. But I remained resolute, unflinching as I pulled the dark cloud closer, forcing it to confront me face to face.

The darkness thrashed violently, its form shifting and twisting, but I held firm. My gaze bore into the heart of the shadow, searching for the essence of the one trapped within.

"Abigail," I said, my voice calm yet commanding, cutting through the rage that filled the air. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The cloud hesitated, its violent movements slowing, as if my words had momentarily pierced through the haze of anger and pain that consumed it. I could feel the energy of the abyss clawing at my senses, trying to overwhelm me, but I pushed back, focusing on the core of the spirit within.

"Listen to me," I continued, my tone softening just slightly, "I know what happened to you. I know the suffering you endured, the betrayal you faced. I know the pain that has kept you tethered to this world."

For a moment, the darkness seemed to falter, the chaotic energy easing as if the spirit inside was listening, perhaps for the first time in decades.

"I'm here to help you," I said, my grip steady. "I'm here to give you the peace you deserve, to help you find the rest that was denied to you."

The darkness stopped moving entirely, and in that stillness, I felt a flicker of recognition, a faint pulse of something that was once human—a memory of who Abigail used to be before she was consumed by the abyss.

I released my grip slightly, allowing the shadow to pull back but keeping it close enough that it couldn't escape. The air grew heavier, thick with an oppressive silence as the darkness began to coalesce into a more defined shape.

Slowly, the swirling mass of darkness began to take form, condensing into the faint outline of a girl—Abigail. Her features were vague, almost ethereal, but the sorrow and pain etched into her expression were unmistakable. Her eyes, two hollow orbs of shadow, stared at me, filled with a mixture of fear, anger, and a deep, abiding sadness.

'She looks oddly familiar….Doesn't she?' I just recently promoted myself to the point that I needed to stop seeing her in other people.

But presented in such a situation, how could I?

'I need to focus,' I reminded myself, pushing the thought aside as I continued my approach. The air around us grew thicker, almost suffocating, as if the very atmosphere was charged with the weight of her unresolved pain.

"I know it's hard," I whispered, my voice gentle yet firm, "but you can trust me."

At the very least, I needed to do this much.

So that this girl could live in peace and that she would not experience the same things as her.

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