Hunt In Reverse

"It's the same," Butcher Garcia croaked, his voice trembling with grief and a dawning realization. "Exactly the same as that of Santiago Lopez."

Butcher Garcia withdrew his hands, his strength seemingly drained away. His voice was hoarse with emotion. He'd assumed that Kenzo Sato had been swayed by Miguel Lopez, that his own suppression had been a result of their personal vendetta.

But now... now he realized his own impetuous nature had led to his downfall. The Kongo Shintai's leaders had deemed him a liability—even a threat—to their "secret method," despite his talent. They had cast him aside without hesitation.

The H.A.R.M. officers exchanged confused glances. They couldn't follow Butcher Garcia's rambling.

My gaze remained fixed on the defeated shika. "Bring the employees in for questioning," I ordered, my voice devoid of emotion. "Take the disciples into custody."

A simple distinction—"bring" versus "take"—yet it created a stark divide among the Kongo Shintai members.

Employees would be released if found innocent. But disciples... that was a different matter entirely. That was how H.A.R.M. treated enemies, those suspected of collaborating with vampires. If found guilty, their fate would be sealed.

"Yes, sir!" the H.A.R.M. officers answered.

The employees, sprawled on the ground, gasped for breath, relief washing over them. They might have a few skeletons in their closets, as any seasoned martial artist did, but compared to the crime of colluding with vampires, those were mere peccadillos.

Within the pagoda, however, the disciples gripped their weapons, their faces pale with fear. The golden eagle agents, led by the colonels, stormed the pagoda, armed not just with chains, but with rifles, grenades, and heavy equipment, ready to face any resistance.

"Where is your jushoku?" I asked, sheathing my blade.

The disciples exchanged terrified glances, but remained silent, their loyalty to their master battling with their fear of H.A.R.M.

... ...

The mention of Santiago's name sent a chill down Kenzo Sato's spine. All hope evaporated.

He gritted his teeth, his gaze fixed on me, his expression mirroring Miguel's earlier resentment and dread.

That brief exchange had been enough to demonstrate the vast gulf in our strength. And with so many H.A.R.M. agents present... escape was impossible.

I had sheathed my blade, but not out of mercy. There was no need to waste energy on a dead man.

Attacking a H.A.R.M. colonel within Seattle... it was a death sentence, regardless of his martial arts prowess.

As if to confirm Kenzo's suspicions, several agents approached, binding him with heavy chains that suppressed his essence pool.

Kenzo's breath grew ragged. He looked towards the elegant pagoda, his gaze falling upon his panicked disciples. He knew all too well the methods H.A.R.M. employed against those suspected of consorting with vampires.

If even one of them revealed the truth about the forbidden techniques, they would all be executed.

His mind raced, and he made a decision.

"Colonel Kane seeks personal revenge!" he roared, his voice a thunderclap that echoed through the courtyard. "Take my life, if you must! But you will not tarnish the reputation of Kongo Shintai!"

He paused, then snarled, his face contorted with rage. "You want to know where the jushoku is?" he spat. "In your dreams!"

Before anyone could react, he lunged. His arms, bound by the heavy chains, strained as he slammed his palms against his own jaw with a sickening thud.

Body tempering warriors were rare, especially those who reached Wave Realm. Even with his essence pool suppressed, the old monk retained a surprising amount of strength. The golden eagle agent holding the chain stumbled, nearly losing his grip. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but then his eyes widened in horror.

CRACK!

The sound of breaking bone echoed through the courtyard. The old monk had snapped his own neck, his head lolling at an unnatural angle, his life extinguished in an instant.

… …

"Sato Sensei!"

The cry echoed through the pagoda, a mixture of grief and terror.

The disciples within the pagoda shuddered, frozen in place. Then, as the reality of the situation sank in, they exchanged panicked glances, their weapons clattering to the floor.

They fought to suppress their fear, their hearts pounding, sweat beading on their foreheads. But they held their tongues.

Sato Sensei had sacrificed himself to send them a message: Don't let that Kane bastard intimidate you! Was it a crime punishable by death to abandon the Body of Awakening? The Kongo Shintai's shift to a different training method was no secret. H.A.R.M. was certainly aware of it.

The chief shika and his disciples had offended Kane, even dared to attack him. They were doomed. But why should the others fear? If Kane had evidence against them, wouldn't he have acted by now?

… …

"This..." Chandra hurried to my side, his face grim. "I'll have someone investigate immediately."

There was no question now: Kongo Shintai Securities was hiding something. Seattle was on high alert, not even a fly could escape unnoticed.

Finding the jushoku within the city wouldn't be difficult. But if he'd already left...

Even the most cautious actions could leave traces. Kenzo Sato had sacrificed himself to buy time, to silence his disciples. If the jushoku managed to escape and destroy evidence, Kongo Shintai, though weakened, could recover.

He'd even managed to paint Kane as a corrupt official, abusing his power for personal vendettas!

… …

I glanced at the crumpled form of Kenzo Sato, a flicker of amusement in my eyes. It had been a simple question, yet it had provoked quite the dramatic reaction. I pulled the silver bell from my belt, and channeled my essence into it.

"I require information," I announced. "The whereabouts of the Kongo Shintai jushoku."

A moment later, a series of responses flowed into my mind.

"He's at Mount Defiance," one voice responded. "I saw him there myself just a fortnight ago."

"Kongo Shintai Securities has a habit of taking pilgrims to the mountains to gather essence," another added. "They move their location every so often."

"Hah! Those phony monks!" a third voice scoffed. "Stealing the Daoists' breathing and essence gathering techniques! But I've heard of this. They say those pilgrims stay for years, sending letters home every few months, inviting their families to join them in meditation. Even when they return home for a visit, their minds remain fixed on the Buddha. They always rush back."

Seattle was the heart of the twelve cities. Tonight's commotion had drawn a considerable number of Vampire Hunters, who were eager to offer their assistance. I deactivated the silver bell, then noticed the shock on Chandra's face.

"What is it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing, nothing," Chandra mumbled, waving a dismissive hand. He'd been a colonel for many years and had encountered his fair share of Vampire Hunters. But this was the first time he'd seen a Silver Bell in person. He shuddered, remembering those unhinged fanatics. Best not to dwell on them.

Wave Realm Perfection was the bare minimum requirement for wielding a Silver Bell. Those who survived long enough to earn one were rumored to have already reached the Crystal Realm.

It wasn't that the Vampire Hunters had strict restrictions about promotion. It was simply that anyone who managed to rise through their ranks was inherently... unbalanced.

They wandered the land alone, often stumbling into the territories of powerful vampires. And instead of fleeing, they'd try to snatch a wisp of the creature's essence to bring back as proof for their reward, their eagerness for promotion outweighing their sense of self-preservation.

"So that's why Colonel Kane keeps his distance from General Grant," Chandra mused. He bent down, a strange expression on his face, and hoisted Kenzo Sato's body over his shoulder. "Why the rush, old guy?" he muttered.

Kongo Shintai's disciples were quickly bound with demon-subduing chains. Mindful of Kenzo's desperate act, the agents took no chances, wrapping the chains tightly and securing them with specially crafted silver hooks, piercing the disciples' shoulder blades to prevent any escape.

"Colonel Kane," Chandra said, hefting Kenzo's body, "if you leave the city, you're limited to a retinue of one hundred and twenty men, including three colonels. You don't have a personal guard yet, but we can assemble one for you. Though I fear it might not be enough."

It seemed like the end was in sight, but if the rumors about the jushoku's strength were true, this final step could prove challenging.

I recalled the battle on Crown Mountain. General Grant had been in command, responsible for any unexpected events.

He'd slain the headmaster, destroyed their ancestral sword, and sought out the Leviasaur, only to be beaten to the punch by me.

Now I was leading this operation, without informing General Grant. I held the authority, but also the responsibility.

Failure would mean more than just my death. It would be a stain on the honor of the entire H.A.R.M. Cascadia.