Hunt In Reverse

The Angry Sword Elder's sudden stillness offered Chandra a brief respite. He retreated, gasping for breath, his saber hand numb from the violent vibrations of the Elder's last attack.

With a rattling of chains, over a dozen restraints wrapped around the Elder's limbs and torso. The golden eagle agents, seizing this hard-won opportunity, finally immobilized him.

Yet, the Elder remained unfazed. He lowered his head, his gaze fixed on the long sword in his hand.

A flicker of hatred ignited in his cloudy eyes as he stared at his three-hundred-year companion. The inscription, "Crown Mountain," seemed to sear his soul like a branding iron.

"I regret..." he rasped, his voice a dry whisper, "...taking you from the Crown Pool." His words were filled with self-loathing.

The mention of the Crown Pool sent a ripple of unease through the agents. This legendary landmark, the source of Crown Mountain's enduring strength, was renowned throughout Cascadia.

Chandra, sensing the weight of the Elder's words, looked at him with a mix of pity and respect. The man had colluded with vampires, had nearly exhausted his life force, and had almost caused them devastating losses. There was no need for further conversation with a dying man.

But still, he couldn't help but offer a final plea. "H.A.R.M. is harsh," he admitted, "and life is precarious. But at least it can save your—"

He stopped abruptly.

The Elder plunged his sword into the ground, then, with a resolute strike, channeled his remaining essence into his palm.

The five-foot blade snapped in two.

His silver hair fluttered in the wind, his withered face frozen in a mask of defiance. A white film clouded his eyes, the light of life extinguished.

The fleeing disciples, torches casting long, flickering shadows on the cliff face, stumbled to a halt, their faces etched with despair.

The Elder had instructed them to escape while he, the vampire, and H.A.R.M. clashed.

But as they descended a hidden path, they witnessed his final act of defiance.

Their gazes were drawn to the crimson droplets hanging in the air, the baleful aura a chilling omen. The Elder's message was clear: stop.

The young man in black, wielding his saber with terrifying power, had effortlessly subdued both the vampire and the Elder. He still had strength to spare, enough to unleash another devastating rain of crimson and crush their hopes of escape.

A mournful wail echoed through the valley, and a horrifying figure emerged from the inferno. It was a skeletal monstrosity, charred flesh clinging to its bones.

Less than ten percent of the Leviasaur's armor remained, its flat head partially consumed by the flames. Its eyes, filled with a burning rage, locked onto mine.

"Die!" it shrieked, charging forward, use its both hands and legs.

If it could get a little closer, it could tightly constrict the opponent's body, turning its consuming rage into overwhelming force, completely crushing and tearing me apart.

I watched its approach, my breath steady, my feet suddenly shifting into a cross stance.

My five fingers clenched tightly, my tattered sleeves fluttering.

A fist shot out! Aimed directly at the exposed veins on the Leviasaur's body!

Thump! The vampire stumbled, the spot where it was struck instantly going numb!

With a sudden burst of speed, I unleashed a flurry of punches, pummeling the Leviasaur.

The vampire stumbled, its flesh turning numb with each strike. My fists, like a relentless storm, drove it back.

Finally, with a sickening pop, my five fingers plunged into its abdomen.

When I withdrew my hand, a blood-soaked vampire core clutched in my grip.

The Leviasaur collapsed with a thud. Even in death, the residual baleful demonic flames continued to lick at its bones, making sizzling sounds.

[Slain a peak Wave Realm Leviasaur, lifespan of 1,820 years, remaining lifespan of 763 years, fully absorbed.]

I hadn't seen such a notification for a long time, ever since eradicating the sea vampire. I felt a slight sense of familiarity.

Then, my gaze fell upon my arm, where several deep wounds gaped, bone gleaming white beneath the torn flesh.

Vampires weren't all just mindless brutes. That hidden tail attack could have easily killed a less-skilled martial artist, even one at the same realm.

Fortunately, the Bloody Quintet proved its worth. Its destructive power, amplified by my peak of Wave Realm essence reserve, was devastating. But it was also the pinnacle of what I could achieve with this Wave Realm technique.

My desire for new techniques intensified. Upon my return to Seattle, I would definitely seek out more advanced forms.

I turned my attention to the approaching agents, their faces etched with a mixture of awe and relief.

"Captain Kane," Chandra Banerjee began, his voice filled with wonder, "you truly astounded us." He struggled to find adequate praise, his shock evident.

What was there to praise? Even Rose Hightower, the Admiral's disciple and the undisputed prodigy of Cascadia, might only have achieved this much.

But now, even her reputation as the top prodigy felt precarious.

I showed no signs of exhaustion, despite slaying a thousand-year-old vampire and subduing the Angry Sword Elder in quick succession.

"I have some healing ointment," Chandra offered, his expression a mixture of gratitude and bewilderment.

He had anticipated a massacre, yet the only casualty was their own arrogant colonel, and the only one injured was the most powerful among them.

A sudden thudding sound drew our attention. The golden eagle agents knelt with one leg in unison, their heads bowed in a silent tribute. A moment later, they rose, their expressions a mix of shame and gratitude.

These agents, hailing from influential families, were typically more arrogant than their Purge Division counterparts. But under Kenya Washington's leadership, they had been humiliated.

Chandra chuckled wryly. "These brats know how to make a man feel both frustrated and proud," he admitted. "But they won't forget your actions tonight."

"We're colleagues," I replied, dismissing his praise. "It was my duty."

I accepted the ointment, applying it to my wounds with a practiced hand. The gratitude of these Seattle elites was genuine, as demonstrated by Noa Atzmon.

They weren't stingy when they owed a debt, but their ingrained aristocratic mannerisms were difficult to shed. Their generosity often came with strings attached, entangling the recipient in obligations and expectations.

"I'm a straightforward man," Chandra declared, meeting my gaze. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask." He then turned towards the dejected Crown Mountain disciples, gesturing for the others to follow.

The young disciples, their heads bowed, their expressions hollow, shuffled forward.

"Hurry along," Chandra barked, waving them onward impatiently. "Did you expect a formal invitation?" The entire situation was a frustrating mess.

Over a dozen Containment Division agents were dead, a consequence of Kenya Washington's reckless disobedience.

And now, Kenya himself was dead, slain by a vampire. The Angry Sword Elder, who should have borne the responsibility, had chosen a self-inflicted demise. The blame, ultimately, would fall upon Crown Mountain.