Hunt In Reverse

In the quiet of my home, I approached the towering man, who stood with his head bowed in shame, carrying a damp cloth.

His anxious expression was a stark contrast to the comical remnants of crude demon makeup still smeared across his face.

"You know," I said, a hint of amusement in my voice, "it's actually quite a good likeness." A playful smirk touched my lips, a rare display of levity in this tense situation.

I reached out and gently removed the pig snout and ears from Butcher Garcia's face, then handed him the damp cloth. "Here," I said, my voice soothing, "wipe yourself clean."

"I..." Butcher Garcia's hands trembled as he took the cloth. His face, rough and weathered, twitched with barely suppressed emotion, a mixture of shame, gratitude, and a flicker of hope.

He scrubbed furiously at the ink, as if trying to erase not just the paint, but the humiliation itself, the memory of his public degradation.

I turned and headed back inside, my mind already working on a plan. "Tell me everything," I instructed, my voice firm but gentle. "From the beginning. Don't hold back. And don't worry about me. Just tell me what happened. I'll handle the rest."

At these words, Butcher Garcia's forced composure crumbled. He sank to his knees, his massive frame shaking with sobs that racked his body. "I didn't break the vows!" he wailed. "I didn't touch her! They forced her! They drove her to her death!"

Though his words tumbled out in a torrent of grief and rage, I listened patiently, removing my jacket and hanging it on the coat stand. "The Kongo Shintai Securities has precepts? Is it a temple or an enterprise?" I asked.

Butcher Garcia spat, his eyes filled with a desperate rage. "Only for disciples, not employees. And I am a disciple. But I didn't break any precepts! That child isn't mine!"

Butcher Garcia looked up, despair etched into his features. I donned the black uniform with the full moon symbol, recalling the butcher's earlier words.

He'd been a promising talent when he'd first joined the Kongo Shintai Securities, accepted as a disciple.

But then he'd offended someone and had been denied access to Wave Realm techniques, his progress stifled for years. He'd been forced to develop his own incomplete version of the Body of the Golden Sun.

"Miguel Lopez joined the Kongo Shintai Securities with his brother," Butcher Garcia continued, his voice thick with emotion. "His brother died just outside Seattle. He suspected me because I was nearby at the time. But he had no proof. Santiago and I have always been on good terms. No animosity, no conflicts... It was Miguel who poisoned his master's mind against me, who orchestrated my downfall."

Butcher Garcia's eyes glazed over as he drifted into the past, the pain of betrayal and injustice etched on his face. He rose unsteadily to his feet, lost in the memories that haunted him.

"So they framed you?" I asked, buckling the full moon uniform and retrieving the wolf-emblazoned cloak from the stand.

"No," Butcher Garcia said, his voice flat, his face devoid of emotion. His hands clenched into fists. "I killed Santiago. I'd been drinking. I never cared much for those Buddhist scriptures. I was bored, and I heard Santiago was leading a group of pilgrims on a spiritual retreat. I followed them, intending to mock him."

He paused, his gaze distant, lost in the memory of that fateful day. "I saw him—he had tied up a dozen people like breeding pigs. All of them looked filthy, their eyes vacant, as if their souls had been drained away. He was harvesting men's vitality and women's womb blood to bathe in... He had been secretly practicing forbidden body tempering techniques behind Kongo Shintai's back."

"I burst in on his evil deeds. He chased me out..." Butcher Garcia's voice cracked. "I was terrified. I never imagined he could be so cruel, so heartless. I saw red. I lost control and... and I killed him. I nearly died there myself."

"Most of those held captive were driven mad by the drugs," he continued. "Only one woman... she was pregnant. Santiago couldn't bleed her, so he just kept her locked up, a plaything for Santiago's depravity. She was still lucid. I managed to sneak her out, found her a place in a remote village, far from Seattle."

Two big tears escaped Butcher Garcia's eyes, tracing paths through the wrinkles etched on his face. His strength seemed to drain away, leaving him looking vulnerable and defeated.

He'd simply wanted to find a teacher for the child, to give him a chance at a better life. That's how they'd found him.

"Miguel had just emerged from the talent acceleration program, his martial arts greatly enhanced. They knew I'd returned. They followed me. They saw me asking about tutors... They found the village. They accused me of breaking the precepts. They wanted me dead."

"She wouldn't betray me," Butcher Garcia choked out, the pain of his loss fresh and raw. "But she wouldn't shame me either. So she... she killed herself. Dashed her head against the wall..." His voice trembled, the words catching in his throat. "When I got there... she was gone."

"The child..." he whispered, his voice filled with despair, "he's still in their hands."

"Finished?" I asked, stepping out of the house and towards the courtyard gate. "Come with me."

I likely knew more about the Kongo Shintai than Butcher Garcia, who had been exiled to Pinewood County, cut off from the inner workings of the organization.

Their inexplicable resurgence after years of decline, the sudden adoption of Buddhist imagery... It had seemed like a ploy to appease the wealthy Japanese donor, but now it seemed... there was something more sinister at play.

Butcher Garcia stared, dumbfounded. The young man before him was transformed, a vision of power and authority that radiated from his very being.

I wore a wide-brimmed hat, its dark surface etched with five gleaming stars. The full moon insignia at my collar stood out starkly against the black of my uniform. A metallic belt, adorned with intricate carvings, cinched my waist, and a magnificent black scabbard, etched with golden patterns, hung at my side. My wolf-emblazoned cloak billowed in the wind.

I adjusted my collar, my face hardened with resolve, my eyes reflecting the moonlight with a steely glint.

"Where are we going?" Butcher Garcia asked, his voice barely a whisper, his earlier distress replaced by a quiet awe.

"To help those who truly deserve to dash their heads against the wall," I replied, my voice a low growl, my hand resting lightly on the hilt of my blade. "To complete what they should have done."

With steady steps, I walked towards the gate, my figure disappearing into the night.

… …

Kongo Shintai Temple.

Faced with thousands of grim-faced H.A.R.M. agents, who had completely surrounded their temple, the Kongo Shintai employees instinctively dropped their weapons, their faces pale with terror.

"We have no dealings with vampires!" they cried, their voices a chorus of desperation. "Colonel Kane, we are innocent!"

Chandra Banerjee surveyed the crowd of martial artists, their attire as varied as their expressions.

They didn't look like troublemakers—just people who happened to be in the office at the wrong time. But something was amiss. Where were the monks? Not a single one had emerged from the pagoda. What were they hiding?

"Colonel Kane, please investigate!" the employees pleaded.

Terror gripped these martial artists. Many, their faces streaked with tears and snot, collapsed to the ground.

Most were merely body tempering trainees, or even ordinary martial artists who had yet to break through to the First Realm.

They had joined Kongo Shintai Securities hoping to learn basic skills, taking jobs like guarding merchant caravans.

Some perhaps hoped to catch the eye of a monk and be accepted as a disciple, granted access to the company's profound body tempering techniques.

None had ever witnessed such a display of overwhelming force.

Suddenly, a figure came hurtling through the air, smashing against the studded crimson gates with a sickening thud. His white robes were stained crimson, his body broken and limp.

The Kongo Shintai employees gasped, their cries of terror dying in their throats. They stared in horror at the crumpled form, their eyes widening in recognition.

Master Miguel Lopez?!

Before they could recover from the shock, a figure emerged from the ranks of the H.A.R.M. agents.

His cloak billowed in the night wind, the golden wolf emblazoned upon it catching the light, drawing all eyes.

The golden eagle agents tightened their grips on their vampire-subduing chains, their gazes fixed on the young man's face, committing every detail to memory. They stood straighter, their resolve solidifying.

Word traveled fast, especially after a few drinks. The golden eagle captains, still reeling from their experience, recounted tales of Colonel Kane's exploits: slaying the Leviasaur with a flick of his wrist, crushing the Angry Sword Elder with a single palm strike. The fact that he'd ridden through Seattle, promoted three ranks in a single day, only added to their credibility.

Butcher Garcia, keeping his head lowered, shuffled along amidst this group of seasoned warriors. He was surprised to find them just as nervous as he was.

"If only I could be like that one day..." Ethan Atzmon's gaze was fixed on Kane's back, a wave of longing washing over him.

He turned to his sister, seeking her approval, but found her staring blankly ahead, her lips parted, her breath quickening. A flush crept up her neck, tinting her cheeks.

He frowned, confused. This wasn't like Noa at all.

… …

I walked calmly to the gate and, grabbing Miguel Lopez by the robes, dragged him up the long staircase, his broken body leaving a trail of blood that stained the grey stone crimson.

After ascending a dozen or so steps, I tossed Miguel aside and sat down, my back to the pagoda, one arm resting casually on my knee, my black cloak swaying gently in the breeze.

I raised a single finger, my face betraying no emotion, my voice cutting through the night with chilling clarity.

"Five minutes," I announced, my words echoing off the walls of the temple. "If I don't see the person I want, Kongo Shintai Securities will cease to exist."