Hunt In Reverse

"Huh?" Chandra Banerjee blinked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He exchanged a bewildered glance with me, both of us taken aback by the unexpected calmness among the Crown Mountain disciples.

So, after all these days of besieging the mountain, I realized, the Vampire Hunters have already exposed this swordsman's true nature? Even Karim Shaheen himself had admitted to being a vampire.

But then... why haven't H.A.R.M attacked?

Chandra and I both turned towards the old general, seeking an explanation for this bizarre standoff.

Skyler Grant, his expression unwavering, calmly met Karim Shaheen's furious gaze. "I admit," he began, his voice steady and measured, "I once wondered if a vampire could truly integrate into human society. But then I considered this: in your hundred years, you've had relationships with countless women—three hundred, perhaps even five hundred."

"They admired my heroic reputation," Karim retorted, gasping for breath, his face contorted with a mixture of rage and pain. His wounds pulsed and throbbed, threatening to reopen. "They came willingly."

"That's not what I wondered," General Grant said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm merely observing that every time one of these women became pregnant with your child, she was abducted by vampires. Most vanished without a trace. The few who were rescued contributed to your reputation as a benevolent hero, only to die quietly a few years later. To be a mortal woman, carrying the child of a Leviasaur... wouldn't it be a terrifying experience to see the creature she's birthed?"

His voice hardened, taking on a steely edge. "Whenever a birth was imminent, vampires would appear to abduct the mother. Whenever your children grew hungry, vampires would attack villages. Always so timely, always conveniently nearby."

A heavy silence fell over the plaza. The accusations echoed, sharp and damning.

"What sins must the vampires of Cascadia have committed to encounter such a 'heroic' family?" General Grant's voice boomed across the plaza, filled with righteous anger.

"How many children must the people of Vancouver bear to sustain your insatiable offspring?"

Clad in his black armor, the old general rose to his feet. He gripped his steel halberd, his gaze fixed on Karim, unwavering and resolute. "I, Skyler Grant, am a sinner," he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "But even I wouldn't dare give you another chance."

Under General Grant's icy stare, Karim Shaheen stumbled backward, his face contorted in a mixture of fear and fury. A pair of weathered hands reached out, steadying him.

He turned, his breath ragged. "Master," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

The Crown Mountain Headmaster stepped forward, his hair disheveled, his face etched with exhaustion and worry.

He looked like a man on the verge of collapse, burdened by the weight of a hundred sleepless nights.

He placed a comforting hand on Karim's shoulder, his touch conveying a lifetime of shared experiences and unwavering loyalty. "I know you feel wronged," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "He won't give you a chance, but I will."

His words echoed through the plaza, sending a ripple of despair through the kneeling disciples.

Their heads bowed even lower, their hopes dwindling with each passing moment.

The H.A.R.M. agents, however, bristled with indignation. Murmurs of discontent rippled through their ranks, their hands tightening on their weapons.

"After all this time, you're still blinded by sentimentality!" one of the colonels shouted. "He's a vampire! What chance could you possibly give him?!"

The Crown Mountain Headmaster ignored the outburst, his gaze fixed on Skyler Grant. A deep sadness clouded his eyes, a mixture of regret and defiance.

"General Grant," he began, a wistful smile gracing his lips, "when I first found him, he was so small." He gestured, indicating a baby's length, a flicker of fondness in his eyes.

"He was already older than your grandfather when he was 'that small'!" another colonel scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain.

The Headmaster continued as if he hadn't heard, his eyes pleading. "General Grant, you know I was born with a deficiency. The School of Crown Mountain, the Shaheen family legacy, cannot end with me. I pulled him from the river, named him Karim, taught him swordsmanship, nurtured him, secretly protected him as he hunted vampires..."

He paused, lost in memories, a lifetime of shared experiences flashing before his eyes. He seemed to have countless stories to tell, each one a testament to his deep bond with Karim.

"But he's a Leviasaur," Skyler Grant stated flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

"But I raised him!" the Headmaster cried, his voice cracking with despair. "I prepared the Crown Pool for him, groomed him for leadership! It was that vile woman, that treacherous concubine who gave birth in public, who turned him into a monster!" His weathered face contorted with anguish, his voice raw with pain and betrayal.

Seeing no sympathy in Skyler Grant's eyes, he whirled around, his disheveled hair and frantic movements making him appear more like a desperate, cornered animal than a respected leader.

"Crown Mountain disciples!" he screamed, his voice echoing across the plaza, filled with a mixture of desperation and defiance. "Form the formation! Form the formation!"

But the disciples, the elders, the instructors, all averted their gaze, their faces etched with shame and disillusionment. A heavy silence descended upon the plaza, broken only by the Headmaster's ragged breathing and the distant cawing of crows.

… …

The Headmaster let out a crazed laugh. It was the laughter of a man driven to the brink, a man who had anticipated this betrayal all along.

With a swift motion, he withdrew a fist-sized spherical sword from his tunic, the ancestral relic of the Shaheen bloodline.

As he released it, the orb hovered in mid-air, radiating a soft, pulsating glow. It thrummed with power, a malevolent energy that sent shivers down my spine.

"I told you," he declared, his voice filled with a manic energy, "this is the Shaheen lineage of Crown Mountain! It always has been!"

The blood spilled into the Crown Pool wasn't an offering to the School of Crown Mountain, but a sacrifice to the Shaheen bloodline!

With all eyes upon him, the Headmaster abruptly knelt, his gaze fixed on the glowing orb. He slammed his forehead against the ground, the impact echoing through the silent plaza. "I beseech the ancestral sword!" he cried, his voice filled with a desperate fervor. "Deliver your judgment!"

His head cracked the pristine stone tile, spiderweb fractures erupting from the point of impact. Blood splattering across the white surface, staining the shattered fragments a gruesome crimson.

The spherical sword, their ancestral relic, hummed in response, its glow intensifying. The disciples' swords vibrated in unison, their faces flushing with a bloody red.

The Headmaster slammed his head against the ground again and again, each impact a sickening thud.

A disciple coughed, a spray of blood erupting from his lips. His eyes widened in horror, his body convulsing uncontrollably.

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation and dread. An invisible force gripped the plaza, a palpable sense of impending doom.

… …

I stood at a distance, frozen in place, the scene before me defying comprehension.

"Restrain them!" Chandra Banerjee roared, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

The disciples, once docile as sheep, now writhed in agony, their bodies contorting under some unseen torment, their hands instinctively reaching for their swords.

The H.A.R.M. agents surged forward, tackling the disciples to the ground before they could draw their weapons. A chaotic struggle ensued, a whirlwind of shouts and grunts.

A cacophony of unsheathing blades echoed from the platform. Only by gripping their swords could the disciples find a momentary reprieve from the Shaheen's ancestral curse.

Sharp blades slowly turned towards H.A.R.M. agents, their eyes burning with a newfound, malicious intensity.

At the front of the hall, the seated elders closed their eyes, their faces contorted in a mixture of anguish and concentration. Their powerful auras, like rivers of energy, converged towards the ancestral sword, feeding its menacing power.

"Damn it!" Chandra cursed, his voice laced with frustration and disbelief. "Even if he suspected vampires were hiding among the disciples, he shouldn't have let them up the mountain! What was the Old Man thinking?"

Even Chandra, typically stoic and composed, couldn't contain his bewilderment.

Skyler Grant couldn't have been unaware of the Headmaster's power, of the devastating potential of the Myriad Swords Vampire Slaying Formation.

Thousands of disciples, their combined strength amplified by the formation, were further augmented by the Headmaster and two other elders at the Crystal Realm.

Their collective power, focused through the ancestral sword, created a vortex of invisible sword energy that enveloped Skyler Grant, its chilling aura undeniable.

"This formation should be enough to hold General Grant for half a month," the Headmaster declared, his voice devoid of its previous rage, replaced by a chilling calm. He looked at Karim Shaheen, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You should find a place to hide. Go."

Karim's face lit up with joy. He glanced towards me, then, without hesitation, leaped into the air and vanished.

… …

I gripped the hand of a young disciple, his face contorted with despair as he uncontrollably thrust his sword forward. The consequences of attacking a H.A.R.M. agent were clear to everyone, yet he was powerless to resist the ancestral curse.

But my attention wasn't on the disciple. I stared at the escaping figure in the sky, my heart sinking.

My suspicions were confirmed: the Leviasaur could sense me. And now, it was fleeing.

Suddenly, Skyler Grant, enveloped in a blinding whirlwind of sword light, closed his eyes.

A wave of immense power emanated from him, silencing the chaos around him.

To the Headmaster's horror, the general's steel halberd was seemingly seized by an invisible force.

Skyler Grant remained rooted in place, an immovable object amidst the swirling chaos. But his weapon soared into the air, propelled by an unseen hand, defying the laws of physics.

With earth-shattering power, it cleaved through the air, aimed at Karim Shaheen's retreating form.

A sharp roar echoed through the valley as the entire hall plunged into darkness.

A monstrous Leviasaur, nearly a thousand feet long, its black scales gleaming like obsidian, its sharp horn more menacing than any weapon forged by human hands. It was a creature of nightmares, a symbol of destruction and chaos.

But its reign of terror was brutally cut short.

The halberd, a beacon of righteous fury, descended with the force of a meteor, cleaving through the creature's flesh with a sickening crunch. A geyser of vampire blood erupted, painting the sky in a macabre display.

Half of the Leviasaur's colossal body plummeted to the earth, its innards spilling onto the ground like a grotesque rain. The impact shook the mountain, sending tremors through the plaza.

The creature, its remaining half writhing in agony, let out a deafening screech of pain and terror before disappearing into the distance, leaving a trail of blood and viscera in its wake.

As the halberd returned to his hand, Skyler Grant opened his eyes, his expression as calm and composed as ever. He looked down at the Headmaster, his voice devoid of emotion. "Half a month is too long," he declared, his words laced with an icy finality. "I'll give you five minutes to deliver your last words."

"You... you broke through?" the Headmaster stammered, his voice filled with disbelief and fear.

"Partially," Skyler Grant replied, his gaze fixed on the spherical sword hovering in the air. "Ancestor of Shaheen," he addressed the relic, his voice resonating with power, "you've kept me waiting." He shifted slightly, a hint of weariness in his movements. He had been sitting for so long, his old bones ached.

"No!" the Headmaster shrieked, realizing Skyler Grant's intent. He lunged for the spherical sword, desperation fueling his movements, but it was too late. The ancestral relic, trembling and humming with a newfound intensity, zipped into his chest.

Instantly, the disciples' swords returned to normal, the menacing crimson glow dissipating, replaced by their usual silvery sheen.

The oppressive weight that had hung over the plaza lifted, leaving behind a sense of stunned relief.

"Didn't I tell you all to calm down?" Chandra grumbled, releasing the disciple he had been restraining. "Did you really think General Grant would harm you?"

"Tsk," he muttered, shaking his head, a hint of pride in his voice. "Guarding the mountain is to prevent the vampires from escaping. Trapping the Leviasaur is to force out the ancestral sword. The old man anticipated the Headmaster would seek revenge. Rather than wait for him to act in secret, it's better to cut him off completely up front in public. And the Leviasaur? No chance of escape…"

Chandra turned excitedly towards Kane, wanting to boast about his experience working under the general, to revel in the awe of the moment. But his words caught in his throat.

"Where is he?" he wondered, his gaze searching the crowd, a growing sense of unease creeping into his voice.