Hunt In Reverse

No one expected me to strike first.

I gripped my ceremonial saber, the black light receding from its surface, leaving a soul-chilling void. This was my first full-force strike since reaching the peak of the Wave Realm.

The Nightshade Assassin technique, honed to perfection and amplified by my newfound power, was a force of unparalleled sharpness.

The saber sliced downwards, a silent whisper of death. No grand display of sword energy, just pure, lethal finality.

The enraged Leviasaur was caught off guard. It hadn't anticipated such a simple, direct attack. But as the black blade approached, a chill ran through its monstrous body. Alarm flashed across its face, and it reacted instinctively, slamming its scaled elbow towards the blade.

Flesh against steel.

A grating sound echoed through the night, neither the slice of flesh nor the clang of metal. The scales on the Leviasaur's arm stood erect, forming rows of jagged blades. My saber, deflected by this unexpected defense, scraped away a layer of scales.

The Leviasaur seized the opportunity, its thick, powerful tail whipping out like a steel-forged weapon, aimed directly at my arm.

My eyes narrowed, my perfected saber technique flowing seamlessly. I struck again, intercepting the attack.

But the tail, seemingly solid a moment before, suddenly became supple, its ferocious momentum a feint. It coiled around my arm, the scales transforming into razor-sharp blades.

Three attacks concealed within a single motion.

My gabardine sleeve ripped, stained with a streak of crimson.

The Leviasaur grimaced.

Its scales, nurtured for a thousand years, were more than mere protection; they were weapons, a vital extension of its being. To lose dozens in a single exchange was a blow, far more painful than the flesh wound I had inflicted.

Fury ignited in its eyes, and it tightened its grip, intending to crush my arm. But then it noticed my hand, my fingers wrapped tightly around its tail.

"A mere human, wrestling with me?" it scoffed, a mixture of amusement and disdain in its voice. If humans could overpower vampires with brute strength, what need was there for martial arts?

But before the thought could fully form, its world turned upside down.

With a swift motion, I hurled the Leviasaur skyward, its massive form rendered weightless by my inhuman strength. The beast crashed to the ground with a resounding thud.

It crashed onto the stone, its claws scraping against the surface, its head shaking in a daze.

Then, realization dawned, and its eyes widened with excitement. It had assumed I had merely absorbed a trace of Leviasaur essence. But no... the integration was so perfect!

With a crimson-eyed roar, it lowered its body, preparing to unleash its full power.

The moment I struck, the golden eagle agents reacted with practiced precision, launching their chains towards the Angry Sword Elder, ensnaring him in a web of restrictive steel.

The H.A.R.M. Grand Formation wasn't solely a martial arts technique; it relied heavily on the unique properties of the chains, which disrupted the flow of essence within a captured opponent. But its effectiveness hinged on securing the target.

Kenya Washington's position in the formation was now filled by Chandra Banerjee. Their coordination was abysmal, their movements disjointed. It was less a unified formation and more a collection of individual struggles.

The Purge Division agents fared no better. Unaccustomed to fighting as a cohesive unit, drawn from different commands, and with only a few days of haphazard training, they were a disorganized mess. Their unfamiliarity with each other's strengths and weaknesses hindered their efforts.

Amidst this chaos, the Elder, wielding his five-foot sword, moved like a predator among prey.

Fortunately, Chandra possessed a solid foundation. Though unfamiliar with the intricacies of the Grand Formation, he understood the Elder's wariness of the chains. Exploiting this weakness, he managed to hold his own, buying precious time.

The Elder, clearly fueled by a desperate secret technique, burned his life force to briefly regain his peak strength. But the technique was imperfect, his aura fading with every passing moment.

If they could withstand the onslaught for a quarter of an hour, the Elder would succumb to his own waning strength.

But Chandra couldn't ignore the mounting casualties. And looming over them was an even greater threat: the peak Wave Realm Leviasaur. How long could a newly minted H.A.R.M. captain hold it at bay?

The Elder swung his sword, unleashing waves of potent energy. Chandra could have dodged, but the golden eagle agents, tethered by their chains, were vulnerable. He couldn't allow the formation to break, so he gritted his teeth and met the attacks head-on.

A barrage of poisoned darts and arrows rained down on the Elder, who didn't even flinch. He allowed the projectiles to pierce his flesh, then swatted them away like insignificant insects. To a dying man, fatal toxins held little threat.

They weren't even as attention-grabbing as the roar of the Leviasaur.

The Elder glanced back, his gaze drawn to the spectacle unfolding behind him.

The Leviasaur's blue and white robes were shredded, its monstrous form radiating fury. The ground trembled with each of its enraged strides.

Opposite it, I stood calmly, sheathing my ceremonial saber.

Confusion clouded the Elder's eyes.

Yet, my next action answered his unspoken question.

I raised my palm.

Crimson droplets materialized in the night air, their baleful aura transforming the clearing into a scene of macabre beauty.

The Elder gripped his sword, his composure finally faltering. He recognized the technique, a variation of the Harmonious Quartet, once wielded by the Admiral of Cascadia in his youth. It was a technique that had earned the Admiral widespread renown, a collection of five ultimate skills, each capable of granting dominance over those at the same level.

But even the Admiral's mastery hadn't possessed such chilling intensity, such a dense concentration of essence, such a palpable aura of dread.

He couldn't fathom facing such a devastating attack.

A guttural roar tore from the Leviasaur's throat as the crimson rain descended, each drop finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy.

The thousand-year-old vampire, despite its immense power, was driven back, its prized armor consumed by an inferno of bewitching flames.

Its agonizing wails echoed through the valley.

I lowered my hand, then, with a measured glance towards the Elder, raised it once more.

The Elder looked up at the crimson droplets gathering above him, poised to strike.

His cloudy eyes dimmed, and his grip loosened on his sword. It clattered to the ground, not from fear, but from a profound sense of futility.

The quarter of an hour he had painstakingly gained, the fleeting power he had clawed back from the clutches of death, now seemed utterly meaningless.