Hunt In Reverse

Canlis Restaurant, Seattle.

The balcony perched high above the bustling streets, was an unlikely arena for a clash of wills. A small table, adorned with two glasses of crimson wine, awaited the key players in this tense drama.

Ethan Atzmon sat with a stony expression, his jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. His sister Noa stood protectively behind him, her eyes narrowed, her hand subtly resting on the hilt of her short sword. They glared at the man who stood across from them, behind Kendall Washington.

"There's no need for alarm," a goatee-sporting middle-aged man said with a placating smile, his eyes, however, betraying a hint of amusement. "I'm merely here at Kendall's behest, to ensure his... safety."

"Hmph." Ethan scoffed, his voice laced with disdain. "Even within Seattle, you need a Crystal Realm bodyguard just to step outside. You pampered nobles grow more cowardly by the day."

"What's there to worry about?" Kendall Washington drawled, arching an eyebrow, his lips curled into a smug smile. "I merely invited you for a glass of wine." His gaze drifted toward the distant city wall, a predatory glint in his eyes.

His informants outside the city had sent word of Kane's return, and he'd immediately summoned a family protector. Then, he'd sent for the Atzmon siblings, eager to witness their humiliation.

A direct confrontation between scions of the top families was unthinkable, of course. But he could at least return the favor of that humiliating chair-throwing incident.

The steady rhythm of approaching footsteps grew louder, a drumbeat of anticipation that echoed through the tense atmosphere. Soon, the balcony was crowded with the same young elites who had been present at Canlis that night. They stood in silent expectancy, their gazes fixed on the distant city wall, the air crackling with a palpable tension.

The Atzmon siblings exchanged a knowing glance. Who else could draw this crowd but Kane?

But... wasn't this a bit hasty? Kane had left Seattle just 36 hours ago. The journey to Mount Defiance and back would take at least a day, leaving him a mere half-day to investigate, gather evidence, apprehend the jushoku, and return. With only a hundred and twenty men at his disposal, it seemed an impossible task.

That was likely the reason for their arrogance, and for Kendall Washington's smug demeanor. They believed Kane had failed, that his reckless ambition had finally overreached itself. They were eager to witness his downfall, to revel in his humiliation.

"I told you," Kendall sneered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "there's no need to worry, just sit back and enjoy the show."

Savoring his wine, Kendall Washington turned to the Atzmon siblings with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

"Perhaps you've learned a valuable lesson," he taunted. "Next time, bring an escort."

They were all prominent figures, accustomed to deference and respect. That night, they'd been caught off guard, humiliated by Kane and his supporters. But today, they were prepared. They would have their revenge, their wounded pride demand reparation.

The Washington family's protector, a man of few words and even fewer smiles, allowed a faint hint of amusement to touch his lips. He was content to remain a spectator in this petty squabble, a hawk observing the agitated sparrows. He took a delicate sip of his coffee. His presence here wasn't merely to humor Kendall's childish games—the governor had given him a secret agenda.

H.A.R.M. was known for its ruthlessness, but also its efficiency. It was rare to find a young, inexperienced colonel making such a blunder. This was an opportunity to submit a formal complaint, to remind those arrogant H.A.R.M. agents to restrain themselves. It seemed Kendall's intelligence was accurate, after all.

The sun had barely climbed to its zenith when a troop of riders appeared at the city gates. As was customary, they dismounted before entering.

Kendall Washington's sharp eyes counted the returning riders. One hundred and twenty-four had departed; one hundred and twenty-three returned. Their faces were etched with shock and confusion.

A smug grin spread across Kendall's face. It was as he'd suspected. They'd returned quickly, without casualties, and without a single Kongo Shintai monk in tow. They'd clearly failed.

Chandra brought up the rear, leading a riderless bloodsteed, its empty saddle a stark reminder of the missing colonel.

"Ashamed to show his face, is he?" Kendall Washington sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Hid politeness evaporated. He snatched up the stool that had been conveniently placed nearby. He hefted it, testing its weight, a cruel glint in his eyes.

"I trust," he said, turning to Ethan Atzmon with a smirk, "that after such a spectacular failure, you won't have the audacity to file a complaint?"

The other elites, though present to witness Kane's downfall, wisely kept their distance from the brewing conflict between the two young heirs. They listened to Kendall's taunts, their expressions carefully neutral, but a flicker of satisfaction danced in their eyes.

H.A.R.M. valued action, yes, but they valued results even more. Such a grand display of force, several lives lost... and for what? To return empty-handed? There would be consequences.

"Enough with the chatter," Ethan snapped, his face grim, his patience wearing thin. "I need to report back."

"Excuses, excuses." Kendall sneered. His eyes hardened, and he raised the stool, bringing it down towards Ethan's head.

But a hand, slender yet strong, clamped around his wrist.

"Wait," the Washington family protector said urgently, "it's time to leave."

"What do you mean?!" Kendall whirled around, fury burning in his chest. So, it was acceptable to humiliate the Washington family, but the Atzmon family was untouchable?

But then he noticed the protector's gaze. He followed it, his own eyes widening in disbelief. As Chandra approached, he noticed the bloodsteed wasn't empty—a limp leather bag was strapped to its back.

He squinted. It was clearly a human form, limbs bound, head lolling... The Kongo Shintai Jushoku. Kendall froze, his hand hovering in midair, the stool forgotten. The other elites gasped, their eyes filled with a mixture of shock and dread.

In Seattle, a second-rate force was defined by the presence of a powerhouse comparable to a Crystal Realm expert. Whether through luck or unorthodox methods, as long as they could dominate the Wave Realm, they qualified.

First-rate forces, however, required more than just a few Crystal Realm experts. They needed a reliable method of consistently producing such stalwarts, like Crown Mountain's sword pool, to maintain their position and ensure a steady stream of successors.

The Kongo Shintai Securities had recently ascended to the ranks of the second-rate forces, thanks to their jushoku's newfound strength. And yet, here he was, the linchpin of this organization, strapped to a horse like a common criminal, his life extinguished.

And it took no more time than killing a chicken at Mount Defiance. One had to wonder if Kane had orchestrated this entire spectacle, presenting the jushoku's corpse as a warning.

"What are you doing?" Noa demanded, watching as Kendall stood dumbfounded with the raised stool, his earlier arrogance replaced by a stunned silence. Her eyebrows arched in suspicion, her voice sharp.

"I'm tired of sitting in this damned chair!" Kendall Washington snarled, throwing the stool to the ground. "Can't I stretch my legs on a stool?"

"Colonel Kane rode back in person last time because it was Crown Mountain." Ethan scoffed. "What is Kongo Shintai? They're nothing! A demonic cult waiting to be crushed. They don't even deserve his personal appearance. I don't know what you pig-brained idiots are even thinking."

Noa rolled her eyes.

The commotion upstairs drew Chandra's attention. He glanced up, then quickly looked away, his gaze falling on his fellow agents. They seemed just as stunned as he was.

General Skyler Grant had taken over a month to destroy Crown Mountain. Kane, however, had led his agents on a simple, brutal raid. Up the mountain, kill the jushoku, back down the mountain. Less than an hour, from start to finish.

It was quicker than a trip to the market, perhaps even quicker than a simple meal.

If they hadn't needed to inform the local authorities about the drugged villagers, they'd likely have returned even sooner.

This victory... it was almost too easy.