Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 625

Chapter 625 137.3 - The Kid

One day, Eryon heard the words he had been waiting for: they had found him a family. The adults told him he would finally be leaving this place, that he would now go to a home where he would be cared for, loved, and—most importantly—free. The moment filled him with a strange, unfamiliar sense of excitement. His heart fluttered with hope, the same hope Emily had carried with her when she left.

As they led him through the same grand hall Emily had walked months earlier, Eryon allowed himself to dream. Perhaps this was his chance, his opportunity to meet Emily again, to find her in the outside world where the promise of a better life awaited them both. He would finally see what lay beyond the orphanage's walls, finally understand the life he had been denied for so long. His future seemed brighter than it ever had before.

With a group of other children who had also been chosen, Eryon boarded. He shared in their nervous excitement, each child wondering what awaited them at their new destination. The journey took them far from the orphanage, and the farther they went, the more Eryon's anticipation grew. He told himself that he was one step closer to finding Emily, that their paths would surely cross again once he settled into his new life.

The destination was Ardmont City, a bustling metropolis much like the one he had first seen when he arrived at the new home. It was filled with towering buildings and busy streets, but there was something darker about this place. The energy wasn't as vibrant, and the air was heavier, as if something sinister lurked beneath the surface.

When they arrived at the gates of a large estate, the children were told they would be under the care of a man named Silas Vayne. Silas was described as a benefactor, a powerful figure who had taken an interest in helping children like them. He was the one who had "taken them under his wings," as the adults said, and now he would guide them into their new lives.

Eryon couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. Silas Vayne's name sounded important as if being under his care meant something grand. Perhaps this was his destiny—a new start, a new path. He glanced around at the other children, who were just as wide-eyed and hopeful as he was. They had no reason to doubt the adults' words. After all, wasn't this what they had always wanted?

But that sense of hope, of freedom, was soon to be shattered.

As Eryon entered the building something felt off. The grandeur of the place, while impressive, seemed hollow, almost too perfect. The servants who greeted them did so with polite smiles, but their eyes were distant, empty.

And then it was in that time, that the real purpose for their being there was revealed.

The first few days in Silas Vayne's estate passed in a strange blur. Eryon and the other children were fed lavish meals—strange dishes they had never seen before, rich and flavorful, unlike the meager food they had grown up with in the orphanage. But as time went on, the food began to feel less like nourishment and more like something else. The meals were served in the basement of the estate, an expansive, dimly lit space that felt more like a dungeon than a dining hall.

At first, Eryon didn't question it. He was too overwhelmed by the change in his life, too caught up in the false promises of freedom and care. But the unease that had been gnawing at him since his arrival grew stronger with each passing day.

Then the torment began.

It started subtly, with some of the children being given less food than others. Eryon noticed how some of his peers, those who were already thin and frail, began to wither even more. They were left hungry, deliberately starved, their bodies growing weaker and more emaciated with each passing day. No matter how much they begged, the servants gave them nothing.

It started subtly, with some of the children being given less food than others. Eryon noticed how some of his peers, those who were already thin and frail, began to wither even more. They were left hungry, deliberately starved, their bodies growing weaker and more emaciated with each passing day. No matter how much they begged, the servants gave them nothing.

Other children, stronger ones, were subjected to something different. The violence came quietly, without warning, as they were taken to another part of the basement and returned with bruises, cuts, and broken bones. Their eyes hollowed out with fear, but they said nothing. Whatever happened to them in that part of the basement was too horrific to speak about.

And then there were the children who didn't return at all.

Eryon's dread grew as he watched, powerless, while those around him suffered. He tried to blend in, to go unnoticed, hoping that if he kept his head down, he might be spared whatever fate awaited the others. But he couldn't ignore the truth forever. The meals they were given, once a source of comfort, became more twisted as time went on. The food took on strange, unsettling qualities—an unnatural richness that made his stomach churn. He knew, deep down, that it wasn't meant to sustain them. It was something else, something far darker.

One night, after a particularly gruesome disappearance, the truth of their situation was revealed.

The basement was not just a place where they were fed—it was a place of preparation. The children weren't being taken care of; they were being cultivated, their bodies prepared for consumption. They were food.

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