Hunt In Reverse

"You'll lead a team of ten to guard the dense forest below," After giving the order, Chandra put away his smile.

He continued down the line, his expression carefully neutral, though a slight bob of his Adam's apple betrayed a hint of unease.

Almost instantly, a secret message echoed in my mind.

"Keep a close eye on her. Report any unusual behavior immediately."

Telepathy, a technique I hadn't encountered before, surprised me. Clearly, I still had much to learn.

Chandra's cryptic warning wasn't directed at the two First Realm agents. I glanced at the woman beside me. Despite her black attire and attempts to appear composed, a flicker of anxiety betrayed her.

Chandra's preferential treatment had caught everyone's attention. Curious gazes settled on me, confusion evident in their eyes. Both Wave Realm experts, why would a two-star captain be placed in charge of a three-star major? And wasn't it excessive to assign two Wave Realm agents to a single, small team?

Among the curious onlookers was Kenya Washington, the black-cloaked colonel. He leaned against a nearby tree, casually poking at the campfire's embers with a branch. Despite his nonchalant appearance, his ears were keenly attuned to the conversation. The insult "pig's brain" hadn't escaped his notice.

He licked his lips, resentment flashing in his eyes. Upon their return to Seattle, he vowed silently to make Chandra Banerjee regret those words.

After me, the remaining agents proved to be far less remarkable.

Out of thirty-eight individuals, only one elderly agent had barely managed to attain Wave Realm. He had clearly accumulated merits over many years, and this time, he came with the obvious intention of reaching higher ranks to extend his lifespan. With this opportunity before him, even his demeanor seemed much younger.

What struck me as odd was that every agent present bore the insignia of rank on their sleeves. Notably absent were those elevated to First Realm through medicinal baths—a group typically characterized by an older average age.

Chandra efficiently organized the forty agents into the familiar formations of the Purge Division. I, along with the older Wave Realm agent, each commanded a squad of ten, while Chandra himself led the remaining twenty, dividing their forces to guard the three accessible paths leading up the mountain.

"Set up camp," he ordered, and the agents dispersed with practiced efficiency.

A jarring voice pierced the air.

Kenya Washington, still lounging by the campfire, tossed aside his branch and gestured towards me with a lazy wave. "Hey, you," he called out, "I'm injured and need to recuperate. Why don't you take charge of these two dozen useless—" He sneered towards the golden eagle agents under his command. "—for me? What do you say?"

Every head turned in our direction, the air thick with anticipation. Even Chandra paused, his back stiffening. He hadn't expected that this stupid pig, after making such a huge mistake, would still have the audacity to make such a blatant provocation.

I, however, remained unfazed. As if oblivious to his taunts, I continued my descent, stepping lightly over Kenya's outstretched arm.

Kenya froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. He hadn't expected to be ignored so completely. His intent had been to mock, to embarrass Chandra, to vent his frustration. But now, a fresh wave of anger surged through him. He forced a smile, attempting to mask his rising fury. "Heh, which family are you from?" he asked, his voice laced with a thinly veiled threat. "Quite a temper. Reminds me of myself at your age. We should get to know each other better when we return to Seattle."

Many of the Purge Division agents bristled at his words, their fists clenching, but they remained silent. Those who joined the Containment Division typically hailed from more influential backgrounds. And even among them, Washington was known for his arrogance and connections.

"Which family is he from?" Chandra echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. "The kind that could make your grandfather kneel and beg for mercy. Do yourself a favor and hold your tongue."

He didn't know the exact nature of the relationship between Max Vierkant and me, but that was irrelevant. Who cares? In this war of words, he couldn't allow Kenya's arrogance to go unchecked. If he didn't put the man in his place, who knew what trouble he might stir up back in Seattle?

Kenya's face twitched, his anger momentarily choked off by Chandra's retort. He couldn't quite believe it. There were perhaps a dozen individuals in Cascadia with such youth and formidable backing, and none of them should be serving as a lowly captain.

He remained silent, however, and retreated to his tent, his pride wounded.

The other agents exchanged curious glances, speculating on the truth of Chandra's words. The golden eagle agents, who had borne the brunt of Kenya's insults, stood guard, their expressions revealing a sense of shared sorrow as they occasionally glanced at the fallen comrades nearby.

… …

At the bottom of the slope, nine agents fell into step behind me.

Everyone except Mendy Snow kept their heads respectfully lowered, her expression troubled. They might not know if that arrogant Washington could be offended with impunity, but they knew they couldn't afford to test the waters.

"Captain Kane," Miles Wagner said as we entered the dense forest, "you rest. We'll set up camp quickly." He bowed his head and, with exaggerated deference, wiped clean a damp, flat boulder for me to sit on.

"No need," I replied, shaking my head. "Let's work together. We'll finish faster."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Miles insisted, misinterpreting my intentions. "We're quick and used to this kind of work. It won't take long."

I turned and took the wooden stakes from the agent behind him, nodding slightly. "I have little experience with setting up camp in the wild," I admitted. "Perhaps you could offer some guidance?"

Miles blinked, surprised, then chuckled. "It's hardly something that requires teaching," he said. "Just manual labor." But as he worked, he offered instructions. "As the saying goes, 'Lean against the mountain, follow the valley, choose a high ground with signs of life.' In the wilderness, it's best to be near water, sheltered from the wind... and those stakes shouldn't be placed like that. Watch how I do it."

I imitated him, my movements clumsy at first, but improving with practice.

Mendy Snow, who had been about to sit down, hesitated, then joined the group.

As we worked, Miles gradually lost his initial apprehension. Lowering his voice, he said, "You really didn't have to embarrass that bastard. He's petty and vindictive. You've needlessly provoked him."

I raised an eyebrow. My intention hadn't been to make a show of force. I simply refused to be a pawn in someone else's game of glory, to die a meaningless death and be dismissed as "useless."

As a mere captain, I lacked the authority to refuse a direct order. If I had lingered and been assigned to Washington's command, it would have been disastrous. I needed to accumulate merits and earn a promotion to major as soon as possible. With a higher rank came greater freedom.

I didn't know whether to call it bad luck or good fortune.

In less than a month with H.A.R.M., I had already faced two extraordinary situations. The sea vampire's betrayal and the Crown Mountain's defiance were incidents most agents might not encounter in decades of service. Danger lurked around every corner, but the potential for rapid advancement was undeniable.

If I returned from this mission alive, I would be a three-star major, achieving in a single month what took others a lifetime.

The thought spurred me on, and I turned my attention to the nearly completed campsite. My gaze drifted towards the woman sitting apart from the group.

… …

Mendy knelt beside a small campfire, the flames casting flickering shadows across her face as she meticulously cleaned her sword. Her expression remained an enigma, her emotions hidden behind a stoic mask.

On the inside of the crossguard, faintly worn smooth over the years, a neat incription gleamed slightly in the firelight, and it reads: Crown Mountain.