Hunt In Reverse

"What are the different types of body tempering methods?" I asked, strolling through the park, my usual post-meal routine to aid digestion.

"There are many," Butcher Garcia replied, his voice brimming with knowledge. "Essence Tempering, like the Kongo Shintai method, Food Accumulation Tempering, Blood Tempering..." He paused, considering. "But most of them are beginner-level techniques. You rarely see similar martial arts after reaching the Wave Realm."

"Why is that?" I pressed, intrigued. I found the Body of the Golden Sun quite effective, building both internal energy and physical strength. It seemed like a surefire way to surpass others at the same level.

"Lifespan," Garcia explained with a shrug. "Before reaching the Wave Realm, people only live for about a hundred years. Breaking through adds another hundred, and reaching the peak adds another hundred on top of that. Body tempering might grant you strength comparable to a Wave Realmer, but without celestial essence nourishing your internal organs, it doesn't extend your lifespan."

"If you practice both, this time-consuming and laborious effort seems a bit pointless. It's not as practical as mastering more movement techniques or refining your strikes."

His words resonated with me, and I nodded slowly, considering the implications. Perhaps my experience deducing martial arts had skewed my perspective. The Body of the Golden Sun had required far less lifespan than other Wave Realm techniques, yet it still took me over forty years to reach its peak. For others, regardless of talent, the process would likely take just as long without relying on medicine.

But other martial arts were different. It was just that I was slower because of lack of talent; others learn quite fast.

As we chatted beneath a tree, a figure hurried into the park, disrupting our conversation.

Noa Atzmon arrived and settled down at a stone table near the tree. She took out a document and, ignoring the presence of the unfamiliar burly man, looked directly at me: "We have a problem." Her expression was serious, with no hint of jest.

"Are you aware of what's happening at Crown Mountain?"

Butcher Garcia, who had been nudging me with his elbow and winking at the sight of the approaching beauty, abruptly straightened, his face hardening.

Noa's eyes searched mine, finding no trace of surprise.

"It seems you already know," she said with a sigh. "I just received news that the General of Vancouver has ordered the deployment of five hundred more Purge Division agents. Everyone on our team is on the list, except for Ethan and Colt, who are still recovering from their injuries."

"My family has close ties with Crown Mountain," she explained, a hint of worry in her voice. "My father won't allow us to go."

She leaned forward, her gaze intense. "It's been years since Cascadia has seen an operation against a Crystal Realm expert. This is incredibly dangerous. No one can guarantee our safety."

Noa opened the document, her eyes scanning the page.

"My family has arranged a transfer order for us," she said, her voice low. "Think of it as a... short vacation."

The roster listed the names of Noa Atzmon, Dave Gray, and Stewart Atzmon. A single space remained blank.

"You're a smart person, and you saved our lives," Noa stated, her voice firm. "I won't waste time with pretense. This isn't my decision to make... but you need to come with us."

Her words, though few, spoke volumes about the influence her family wielded. Even if a H.A.R.M. General ordered their deployment, the Atzmons had the means to extract their children. While other agents faced this crisis with a sense of dread and helplessness, the Atzmon family had the luxury of prioritizing their relationship with Crown Mountain.

Butcher Garcia, listening intently, grew increasingly perplexed. His initial delight at Noa's arrival shifted to bewilderment as he stared at the document. It was clearly a transfer order, so why did it sound so much like a deed of sale?

I glanced down at the table, my expression carefully neutral. I had anticipated something like this, but not so soon.

Noa, despite her calm facade, couldn't entirely mask the urgency in her eyes. "This is time-sensitive," she stressed. "The Lieutenant General will be here with a handwritten order within the half-hour."

Having finally gotten this opportunity, she wasn't about to give me time to deliberate.

H.A.R.M. had finally bared its fangs. I am forced into a corner. Ethan Atzmon would gain another capable subordinate, and I wouldn't even have grounds to object.

The other H.A.R.M. superiors weren't oblivious; a sudden transfer during this crisis would make my loyalties abundantly clear.

I reached for the document.

A hopeful smile touched Noa's lips, then quickly vanished as pushed the transfer order back across the table.

"This isn't appropriate," I stated, my voice flat.

Noa's chest heaved. She bit her lip, tightly gripping my wrist. She looked up, her expression unusually flustered: "Aren't you being arrogant? People are going to die!"

The disparity between my reaction and her expectations, coupled with the unsettling image of the black blade I carried, fueled her frustration. Risking one's life over a matter of pride struck her as utterly foolish. This wasn't about upholding justice and protecting the innocent; it was a potential massacre.

I withdrew my hand, about to speak. But then I heard a faint creak of the door.

Max Vierkant slowly walked out, his voice calm: "It's just a transfer order. Did you have to have your Atzmon family sneak around to get it?"

Noa's eyes narrowed as she turned towards him, surprise registering on her face. She hadn't expected anyone else to be present.

If anyone else had said this, Noa Atzmon would have dismissed it outright. In all of Cascadia, only a handful of forces possessed the clout to transfer someone out of H.A.R.M.

But the person in front of her was Max Vierkant. Two of the generals guarding the twelve cities were his senior brother and sister.

"I see," Noa conceded, a hint of bitterness coloring her tone. "It seems I've made a fool of myself."

She tucked the document away and looked at me, confusion clouding her features. How had these two, who had clashed so violently just days ago, formed an alliance? Clearly, my refusal wasn't about independence. I had simply aligned myself with a more powerful force within H.A.R.M. The Atzmons, in comparison, were indeed less formidable.

A wave of realization washed over Noa. She rose to her feet, and coldly withdrew her gaze. "Since you don't require my assistance," she stated, her voice clipped, "then farewell."

Max Vierkant stepped forward, his eyes wide with surprise.

My casual dismissal of the transfer order seemed to solidify my image in his mind as a worthy disciple of their master. Neither he, nor his senior brother and sister, had ever backed down from a battle. Yet, Max was ready to make an exception, to seek Senior Brother Bai's aid on my behalf. I had already proven my courage; there was no need to further risk my life.

Truthfully, I had only been with H.A.R.M. for a few days, my first paycheck still pending. Unlike these agents, groomed from childhood for this life, I had no deep-seated loyalty that demanded self-sacrifice.

The group stood beneath the tree, a tableau of contrasting emotions: surprise, confusion, and a hint of admiration.

The quiet moment was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching.

A colonel in a black cloak, leading a contingent of over forty agents, appeared at the entrance to the park. His expression was stern, his voice ringing with authority. "By order of the General of Vancouver," he declared, "Agent John Kane of the Purge Division, you will accompany—"

He stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered between Noa Atzmon and Max Vierkant. His mouth went dry. He had expected a simple errand, to collect a low-ranking agent. Instead, he found himself facing two prominent figures within H.A.R.M.

Noa remained silent. Max, however, took a deep breath and opened his mouth, his brow furrowed in hesitation. He rarely interacted with others, and interceding on someone else's behalf was a novel experience.

But before he could utter a word, I stepped forward, gently pushing Max back with the scabbard of my sword.

I met the colonel's gaze, my expression calm. "Yes, sir!" I answered, stepping into the ranks of the assembled agents.

My motivations were far simpler than Max and Noa imagined.

I needed to witness the Leviasaur's demise. The thought of a Crystal Realm vampire lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike, would haunt my every waking moment.

The colonel, witnessing my acquiescence, released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He was oblivious to the shockwave that rippled through the small group in the park.

Garcia and Max exchanged stunned glances.

Noa stared at me, her breath quickening.

Perhaps it was her upbringing that made her think everyone needed to rely on something, otherwise they wouldn't feel secure.

Every push and pull, every conflict, was a negotiation for greater benefits.

However, at this moment, the image of the surging black figure chasing a crimson cloud into the forest, and returned covered in blood, casually drawing the black blade from Finn MacLean's head, flooded her mind.

It turned out that from the beginning to the end, neither the Atzmon family nor the Admiral were ever within his consideration.

She bit her lip hard, watching the agents walk away, a hint of indiscernible disappointment in her eyes.