Forsaken Hunter-Chapter 19: The Forsaken Hunter Rises Again

Beno 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 searching his face for a flicker of life.

Still nothing.

Luna's stomach twisted—concern gnawing deeper, her hands hovering near him, unsure. He looked... lost, like a shell teetering on collapse. She sat beside him—close, her shoulder brushing his—voice softening, pleading. "I know you're stuck in there... Please, come back."

Charles crossed his arms—voice cutting through her gentleness. "Yeah. We wanna catch Renzo before the Violent Gate shows? Stop brooding and move."

Beno blinked—slow, like surfacing from a nightmare.

His head lifted—and Luna's breath caught.

His gaze was an abyss—dark, fractured, a hollow chasm swallowing light. Something deeper than thought, something shattered. His face twitched—lips parting, a faint tremble rippling through him.

Luna recoiled—Charles stiffening beside her—a chill slithering up their spines, like facing a stranger wearing Beno's skin. He's not... human right now.

Then—it hit.

A whisper sliced his mind—soft, warm, wrenching.

"Beno..." His mother's voice—Elena Mark—silver hair cascading as she combed his, a lullaby from a lifetime ago. "Renzo's your little brother. He's still weak. If anyone tries to hurt him..."

Her gentle smile burned in his memory—words carving into his soul. "Don't let them live."

Child-Beno had grinned—bright, fearless. "I won't, Mother."

"Don't ever leave your brother alone, okay?"

He'd promised—small fists clenched, heart swelling.

He'd broken it.

His chest seized—breath snagging, a choked gasp escaping as his hands spasmed, clawing at his thighs. Sweat beaded on his brow—cold, clammy—his body shaking as panic surged, a tidal wave crashing over him. His vision blurred—tears stinging, unbidden—his pulse hammering so loud it drowned the room. "I... I failed him..."

The words slipped—raw, jagged—his voice cracking as he doubled over, fingers digging into his scalp, tugging at his hair like he could rip the guilt out.

Luna's eyes widened—heart lurching, hands reaching instinctively. "Beno—stop!" Her voice trembled—panic mirroring his, her tough facade crumbling.

Charles stepped forward—frown deepening, voice sharp. "Hey, snap out of it!"

But Beno was gone—lost in the storm. His breaths came fast—ragged, shallow—each one a struggle, chest heaving like it'd cave in. His nails scraped his scalp—red lines blooming—his body rocking as sobs broke free, low and guttural, tearing from his throat. "He's gone... I let him go..."

Luna grabbed his wrists—firm, desperate—pulling his hands down. "Enough!" Her tone hardened—tough-love snapping into place, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You're not lost yet. Thinking won't fix this—action will."

Beno's shaking slowed—breath hitching, eyes flickering up to hers. The abyss lingered—but a spark flared, faint but alive.

Charles smirked—voice steadying. "Yeah. We're not chasing Renzo's ghost sitting here. Move, idiot."

Beno's gaze sharpened—slow, deliberate. He straightened—forceful, a tremor of resolve rippling through him. Luna and Charles stepped back—shock flashing as he shed the weight like a broken chain.

"Stop fooling around." His voice—strong, unshaken—cut the haze.

Luna blinked—stammering. "W-What?"

He rolled his shoulders—cracking his neck, determination igniting. "No time to waste. We get stronger. Now."

Charles grinned—slow, wicked. "Heh. There's the stubborn bastard I know."

Luna wiped her eyes quick—scoffing, grin tugging her lips. "Took you damn long enough."

Beno faced them—expression dead serious. "Will you help me?"

They locked eyes—grins syncing. "Of course," they said—voices one, unyielding.

Beno exhaled—fists clenching, fire roaring in his veins. "Then let's go. We'll catch Renzo together."

A beat—silence taut.

Then, resolve blazed—unbreakable. "Forsaken Hunter will rule the earth."

Luna's smirk sharpened—fierce. "Damn right we will."

Charles chuckled—shaking his head. "Idiots."

But his smile burned bright.

The hunt was on.

Violent Gate

The Violent Gate was a blood-soaked realm—a crimson sky stretching vast, swirling with violet lightning that crackled like divine wrath.

The ground was a jagged wasteland—obsidian rocks pulsing with an eerie glow, edges glinting under the hellish light. Wind howled—sharp, biting—carrying ash and decay's faint stench through the air.

This wasn't a dungeon. It was a warscape. A tomb for the forsaken.

Renzo Mark sat alone—perched on a cracked boulder, silver hair catching the dull, unearthly sheen. Wayxrons soared overhead—scaled dragon-kin, their wings slicing the air like cursed blades.

He barely noticed—gaze locked on a worn photo, a fragile smile softening his lips.

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.

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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]