Hunt In Reverse

As Noa Atzmon led the way, her thoughts drifted. Her younger brother, though impulsive, possessed an uncanny knack for recognizing talent.

Initially, she had found Ethan's approach towards Kane overly enthusiastic. However, after the events in Temple Village, Kane's extraordinary abilities became undeniable.

Unlike her brother's blunt tactics of dangling "status" and "women" like crude bait, Noa preferred a more subtle approach. She sought to build a genuine connection, using her carefree demeanor to ease the talented but disadvantaged young man's apprehension towards a powerful family like theirs.

Her goal was to make him feel like an equal, a fellow martial artist sharing the same path, a trusted colleague, perhaps even a close friend. Gradually, she would introduce him to the privileges and comforts enjoyed by the Atzmon family. Once he grew accustomed to such luxuries, regardless of his initial intentions, he would inevitably be perceived as an extension of their family.

The people of Seattle were known for their sense of obligation. Her bow of gratitude had been heartfelt. She genuinely wanted to extend the Atzmon family's resources and connections to a talent like Kane, even willing to go beyond what she would offer others. She envisioned providing him with all the precious medicines he would need on his journey to Wave Realm Perfection.

Of course, the desire to bring him under her wing, to have such power at her disposal, was also a potent motivator. It was an instinct woven into the very fabric of her being, a product of her upbringing in a family of immense influence.

But what truly surprised Noa was Kane's swift recognition and polite refusal of her intentions. The memory of him repeatedly swatting her hand away served as a stark reminder: this young man from Pinewood County had never truly trusted her.

He was an enigma, a fortress impervious to her charms.

A dull ache throbbed in Noa's temples.

Kane exuded an inexplicable self-assurance. Even alone in the sprawling metropolis of Seattle, with no one to lean on, he stood tall, his resolve unwavering.

The contrast between his confidence and his circumstances baffled her.

Where did this unwavering belief in himself spring from?

Max Vierkant, also from a modest background and roughly Kane's age, had only breached the First Realm after years of soaking in medicinal baths. Now, he stood proudly in the middle stage of the Wave Realm.

His talent was undeniable—a beacon that even her father couldn't ignore. But at what cost? Though he had earned the Admiral's favor and discipleship after his triumphant return from slaying the Wave Realm Perfection vampire, that victory had been a close call. Before that fateful encounter, he had teetered on the precipice of death, facing a late-stage Wave Realm vampire. The slightest misstep would have meant oblivion.

Even for Vierkant, replicating that path would be a monumental challenge. For Kane, who was arguably less gifted, the odds seemed insurmountable.

Noa paused before a row of quaint two-story townhouses facing a small community park, her gaze lingering on Kane.

H.A.R.M. was a cold, unforgiving machine, its gears grinding relentlessly, indifferent to the lives caught in its teeth.

He was about to discover the harsh truth.

This place was a treasure trove of knowledge and power, but its foundations were built on a mountain of corpses.

Even with her family's influence, she and her brother had narrowly escaped death in Temple Village. For those without such backing, the path to recognition was treacherous, littered with the forgotten dreams of countless hopefuls.

"This is 355. Make yourself at home. If you require anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Sensing his reluctance, Noa didn't press further. With a final wave and a cheerful facade, she bid him farewell. "I'm off to catch some sleep."

... ...

With Noa's departure, I turned towards the townhouses. Eight doorways stood in a neat row, each bearing a name tag. The one on 355 remained blank, while the adjacent door proudly displayed the name "Dave Gray."

This, then, was the designated dwelling for H.A.R.M. captains.

The house itself was spacious, boasting two bedrooms, a sprawling open kitchen, a separate living room, and even a dedicated utility room. I made my way to the master bathroom, indulging in a long, luxurious shower, scrubbing away the grime and the lingering scent of blood.

Dressed in the fresh uniform, I examined the two stars adorning the sleeves. As Dave Gray had explained, each star signified a monthly salary in the thousands.

The financial compensation was a significant improvement over my sergeant's pay, but the true value lay in the allocation of tunics and resources.

With renewed focus, I turned my attention to the training manual, rumored to be one of the top three Wave Realm breakthrough techniques in all of Seattle. My eyes scanned the pages with growing intensity.

The manual was a treasure trove of knowledge, each paragraph annotated with insights from previous practitioners. Areas prone to misinterpretation were carefully marked, guiding me through the complexities of the text. This was the first training manual I could truly comprehend, and I savored each word, resisting the urge to rush.

A solid foundation would save precious lifespan when the time came to put theory into practice.

"Using the energy from the essence to activate and connect the orifices within the body, forming a furnace of flesh and blood, further burning and refining celestial essence..." The words resonated, a spark of memory ignited within me.

The accumulation of vast lifespans had once allowed me to condense my internal essence into shimmering jade dew. The Melting Sun Manual offered a path to accelerate this very process.

Numerous orifices, woven together by celestial essence, would form a blazing furnace within my body, encasing the twelve major chambers.

My flesh and blood would become the crucible, the essence within the chambers the fuel, endlessly refining and purifying the power coursing through me.

The human body, a tapestry of 365 orifices.

The annotations within the manual spoke of inferior furnaces with 70 orifices, middling ones with 150. But the pinnacle, the legendary Melting Sun Furnace, required a staggering 270 orifices.

The disparity was immense. The intensity of the fire dictated the speed of refinement, the efficiency varying drastically between levels.

In the private sector, this manual would be a coveted treasure, a prize worth killing for. Yet, here, anyone earned sufficient credits could access it.

I turned to the final page, the original handwriting scrawled across it in bold, menacing strokes. The words themselves carried a chilling weight: "Those who dare share this knowledge shall be put on H.A.R.M. Most Wanted List and face swift execution!"

I closed the book, a shiver running down my spine. The panel materialized before me.

[Wave Realm - Melting Sun (Untrained)]

[Remaining Absorbed Lifespan: 1505 years]

With a surge of anticipation, I channeled a vast torrent of lifespan into the Melting Sun technique, the numbers on the panel dwindling rapidly.

[In the first year, you mobilized your essence, attempting to weave a delicate tapestry of connections between the orifices within your body.]

[By the second year, your essence was depleted. You returned to the True Explanation of Astral Fortification, the same text that had once guided you to physical perfection. Now, you sought its wisdom to replenish your exhausted reserves.]

[The nineth year saw a deeper understanding of the furnace method, though your practice remained somewhat clumsy. Seventy-six orifices now pulsed with newfound energy, an evidence of your progress.]

[By the seventeenth year, your movements had become fluid, each step guided by unwavering focus. Your calm temperament served you well, preventing any missteps. One hundred and ninety orifices now shimmered within you, faintly outlining the form of a magnificent furnace.]

[In the 20th year, the surging essence within you reached a boiling point. The Melting Sun Furnace roared to life with two hundred and seventy orifices, the raw power threatening to burst from its confines, only to be held in check by the near-perfect vessel of your body.]

[The 22nd year brought a sense of profound accomplishment. Through relentless assimilation and refinement, two major chambers were now brimming with the precious jade liquid.]

The flow of lifespan ceased.

A stark realization struck me. In my earlier, ignorant state, it had taken a grueling 135 years to transform half a major chamber into jade liquid. Now, with the Melting Sun Furnace ablaze within me, two chambers had been filled in a mere three years.

The efficiency was staggering, a testament to the furnace's power. But it still wasn't enough.

Logic dictated that practicing the same technique as H.A.R.M.'s prodigies meant talent would only influence the time it took to construct the essence furnace. The speed of refinement itself should be comparable.

Yet, even the most conservative estimates suggested it would take me eighteen years to reach the initial stage of the Wave Realm. Compared to the meteoric rise of Ethan Atzmon and Max Vierkant, this pace was glacial.

With a grim determination, I retrieved the three vampire cores.

As the infusion of lifespan resumed, I placed them in my mouth, one by one, their potent essence a bittersweet promise of accelerated power.