Hunt In Reverse

The Vampire Hunters paused their inspection of the disciples, a wave of apprehension passing over their faces.

Only Skyler Grant remained unfazed. He casually released the heavy steel halberd, closed his eyes, and in an instant, his Redeemed Spirit soared skyward, halberd in hand.

He wouldn't be rattled by a mere vampire lord, no matter how powerful its aura.

But then... in a heartbeat, everything changed. The halberd faltered mid-air, as if bewildered, before plummeting back into Skyler Grant's grasp. The old man opened his eyes, his usual calm replaced by a flicker of unease.

The aura... vanished. Completely.

It was impossible. No vampire, not within the Crystal Realm, and certainly not at this range, could evade his Redeemed Spirit's detection. Not even with aura-surpressing techniques, or advanced human form disguise like Karim Shaheen's. And certainly not with some low-level transformation trickery.

This was something else entirely. Some form of teleportation, perhaps, capable of crossing vast distances in the blink of an eye.

A display of power, meant to intimidate. If that was the case, then the aura he'd sensed... a mere hint of its true power.

Skyler Grant's grip tightened on the steel halberd. A long moment passed before he finally turned to face the Vampire Hunters.

The Vampire Hunters exchanged uneasy glances. They knew what this meant.

The old man, the one who had single-handedly subdued Crown Mountain, now looked... old. A hint of weariness, perhaps even vulnerability, flickered in his eyes.

"Which vampire lord dares trifle with me?" he boomed, his voice regaining its usual strength. "Since it chooses to remain hidden, I shall show it the sharpest sword in Cascadia!"

Then he asked the Vampire Hunters. "I have a task for you. Make haste to Sacramento. Bring me Aisha Patani."

At these words, every Crown Mountain disciple, even the two guardian elders, instinctively reached for their necks.

The memory of the twenty thousand heads still piled atop Sacramento's walls was fresh in their minds.

The Vampire Hunters nodded their agreement. "No need for pleasantries, General. We understand the urgency."

General Patani's vampire hunting skills might not surpass General Grant's. True, she was also at the Crystal Realm, and undeniably more formidable, but she hadn't yet ascended to the next level either.

Moreover, she was unique among the generals, the only one who followed the Path of Nature instead of the Path of Redemption. She didn't even possess a Redeemed Spirit.

But the moment she stepped outside Sacramento's gates, every vampire lord in Vancouver would get the message, and scurry back to their lairs.

The Sharpest Sword of Cascadia, most formidable of the twelve generals. No one could best her, save perhaps her master, the Admiral himself. Not within H.A.R.M., nor among the Four Families and Five Organizations.

"I must take my leave now. Urgent matters demand my attention." Skyler Grant shook his head and beckoned. His crimson steed materialized in a flash of light, snorting softly. The steed carried the old general to the slopes of Crown Mountain, its hooves treading lightly as it ascended the heights over Hanes Valley, finally coming to a halt atop the sheer cliffs.

The old man gazed down at the dense forest below, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

The Vampire Hunters had brought back tales from Seamist County. Vivid tales of a fearsome sea god clad in black, a menacing blade at his hip, eyes filled with a killer's glint.

Yet, the reality was quite different. He was a reserved young man, almost subdued. He'd waited all night, but the young man never came to pay his respects.

The young man was cautious, decisive, and undeniably brave, willing to risk his life in battle. He was resolute in claiming his spoils, making it clear that even a H.A.R.M. general like himself wouldn't dare try to take what was his.

Yet, he hadn't used this to demand greater rewards. In fact, he'd kept his distance, showing no desire for flattery or accolades.

"So you look down upon the glory of slaying the Leviasaur? Very well. I shall grant it to you anyway."

A rare smile touched the old man's lips as he watched the young man emerge from his tent. A few more years of observation, and perhaps an opportunity to the Crown Pool would be his for the taking.

H.A.R.M. had no shortage of geniuses, but geniuses forged in the fires of life and death were rare indeed. True, there was the risk of early demise, but how else could one learn to protect the lives of millions? Only those who survived the crucible of combat were worthy of the title "genius."

He could stay by my side, safe and sound. But what a waste that would be. Those who achieved great deeds deserved their moment in the sun.

With that in mind, he called down, his voice deceptively gentle, "If you dare set foot on the ground outside H.A.R.M. headquarters, , I'll break your legs."

His words, seemingly casual yet laced with steel, reached the two men below. Chandra, leading the horse, glanced back in astonishment.

Recognizing Skyler Grant's imposing figure, he shoved me. "I told you, the general gave you this bloodsteed! You're supposed to be the one holding the reins!! What are you waiting for?"

I followed his gaze. A streak of crimson flashed across the sky, then vanished from sight. I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the old general's unrestrained freedom.

… …

At least I had a solid foundation to build upon. I sensed the External Crystal, now firmly subdued within my essence pool by the Melting Sun Furnace. I withdrew my focus and swung myself onto the half-vampire horse.

More than twenty golden eagle agents led the way, flanked by dozens of Purge Division agents.

Chandra, guiding the bloodsteed with a steady hand, sent a discreet message via telepathy:

"The old general is a shrewd one. He's worried the Pacific Leviasaurs might come looking for you. Besides those colonels, no one knows about the Leviasaur."

He paused, then continued, "But Kenya Washington died right in front of us. And he was the only colonel who fell. The Washington family will no doubt suspect us, maybe even hold a grudge. Those old geezers might not be able to touch you, but there's no harm in flexing our muscles a bit. It'll save us trouble down the line."

… …

In Seattle, under the watchful eye of H.A.R.M., life usually ambled along without much excitement.

The usual humdrum events: another swordsman's wife kidnapped, the usual bandits of Okanagan Valley making off with a few more barrels of the governors finest wine.

But now, rumors dashed through the streets, spreading news of an event so momentous, so unbelievable, it threatened to upend life in Cascadia.

Crown Mountain was gone. Vanished. Not with the blood and fury of Vancouver, but simply... gone. Reduced to nothingness by the Vancouver General. A mountain gate that had stood for countless generations, wiped from existence.

In the cabaret, the monologist stood frozen, microphone clutched tightly in his hand. For decades, he'd regaled audiences with tales and jokes of the Crown Mountain swordsman—his tender heart, his chivalry, and his swords clashing against vampire foes.

Now, overnight, those stories had become... well, just baseless stories.

"I..." His voice caught in his dry throat. He fought to regain his composure. The familiar tales, once so easily summoned, now seemed hollow, meaningless.

He wracked his brain, desperate for a new narrative, something, anything, to capture his audience's attention.

"'Today," he announced, his voice a bit shaky, "I shall tell you a new story… the tale of the Sea God of Seamist County! Wielding a devine blade, he vanquished a thousand-year-old sea vampire!"

The monologist wiped his brow. "In this very city," he boomed, "lived a mighty human vampire, with a head as big as a leopard and eyes as big as flashlights. He wielded a jet-black blade capable of splitting mountains and severing rivers. He was truly a picture of imposing splendor, his feet treading upon the surging waves of the ocean, with a countless army of salmons and snappers at his back."

"The sea vampire, hideous and grotesque, with a fat head, bulging ears, and an air of supreme arrogance, roared, 'Who dares approach my territory?!'"

"The human vampire chuckled, a chilling sound. His turtle attendant bowed low. 'This,' he proclaimed, 'is the Sea God of Strait of Georgia, descended from the heavens!'"

"The mere mention of his divine name sent the sea vampire reeling back in terror. Its body shook like a leaf in a storm, and even its... well, let's just say it became quite insignificant."

The bandaged young man in the audience cringed. "I can't listen to this anymore," he muttered, "it's too embarrassing."

The elegant woman in casual attire sipped her wine, a flicker of unease crossing her eyes. "Common folk," she mused, "they do love a bit of embellishments."

Ethan Atzmon turned his attention back to the storyteller. "I wonder how close he is to Wave Realm," he mused. "It shouldn't be long now. He's quite talented, but being stuck in that backwater county has cost him valuable time."

"Oh, that reminds me," Ethan Atzmon said. "I got so caught up in asking you to take me for a stroll that I forgot to ask—why are you back so soon? And where's Kane?"

Noa Atzmon lost herself in the mesmerizing dance of the wine as it swirled in her glass. A long silence stretched between them.

She couldn't explain her sudden urge to return. She'd barely spent two days in that dusty town before she found herself galloping back towards Seattle.

What if Crown Mountain needed more agents? What if they called for her? Why had the recruitment stopped? What possible use could Crown Mountain have for a mere First Realm captain?

Noa's thoughts raced. Ethan Atzmon, noticing her distress, frowned. His eyes hardened as he fixed his gaze on his sister. "You sent him to Crown Mountain?!" he hissed, his voice laced with disbelief and anger.

Though rarely subjected to such a harsh tone, Noa didn't argue. Instead, she abruptly rose to her feet.

A peddler's cry drifted in from the street: "They're back! H.A.R.M. agents are back!"