Hunt In Reverse

In addition to the Golden Chief, there were twelve imposing jackalvamps present, the elite vanguard of their kind.

Discounting the aged, weak, female, and young, the Golden Chief commanded no more than thirty warriors. Yet, they reigned over the western mountains and suburbs, driving Pinewood County's eight hundred soldiers behind walls and terrorizing dozens of officers.

However, they remained the least impressive among the major beastvamp forces.

"I didn't expect you to come, much less confront me like this."

Atop the massive sedan chair, the yellow-skinned jackal raised its head lazily, peering down from its elevated position, its claws idly scratching between its nails. "Since you're here, allow me to ask you a question."

Despite its raspy voice maintaining a calm facade, its eyes betrayed a subtle shift.

"Do you have sons? I've lost two sons, and I only have..." It counted on its fingers, a flicker of irritation crossing its features.

"I can't remember... though I don't like them that much, it's unsettling to have two suddenly missing."

"It's rather curious. Why did they both disappear within your jurisdiction?"

"In light of your past respect, offer me an explanation, and I'll leave you with an intact body."

With that, it reclined once more, the elite jackalvamps below baring their teeth menacingly.

I tightened my grip on the knife's hilt and answered its question with action.

With a sudden surge of power, I propelled myself forward, striking the foremost jackalvamp with lightning speed. Before its pupils had time to shrink, my blade pierced its heart.

Poof!

The entire sequence was as swift as a thunderbolt. Only after I exhaled my first breath did the other jackalvamps react, their roars echoing through the village.

The sedan chair carried by the twelve vamps finally shuddered.

Golden Chief propped itself up, its gaze locking onto mine. In its clear eyes, there was no sadness or joy, only strong murderous intent.

From the palanquin's edge, its vision obscured by folds of hanging skin, the creature growled, "Is this how you killed my sons?"

"Now! You want to kill me!"

As it spoke, its massive body rose into the air, blotting out the sun. The bag-like skin on its arms rippled, followed by a mountain-splitting blow from its paw!

The remaining jackalvamps abandoned their burden, crouching low, saliva dripping from their fangs. They roared, cutting off all my escape routes.

The moment Golden Chief's claws struck, I shifted, using the perfected Cobra's Coil technique. The vamps formed an airtight wall in front of me, but I strolled through it unhindered.

As the corpulent figure collapsed to the ground, I dispatched another jackalvamp with a swift backhand slash, severing its head.

To me, these so-called "elites," who merely barked orders and relied on primal instincts, were utterly flawed and far inferior to the ape monsters I encountered the other day.

In a short period of time, two lives were harvested in succession.

The Golden Chief's attack missed, dispelling its previous air of laziness. "Scatter!" it roared, its portly form surprisingly agile as it retaliated with a forceful backhand strike. This time, scarlet blood, resembling real flames, erupted from its skin.

Golden Chief's enraged cries halted the other vamps, creating a path for its fury.

But this hesitation was their undoing. I flitted among them like a ghost, my blade a whisper of death against their throats. Golden Chief's attacks were hampered by the fear of harming its own kind, each miss fueling its mounting desperation.

Three heads...six heads...eight heads! The monstrous births were difficult, many failing to develop wits, some died prematurely, but the survivors were the strongest of their ilk. Over the years, Golden Chief had trained only a dozen elite offspring, and most were now slain in a matter of moments.

Two more jackalvamps fell to my blade. I turned, swiftly drawing my knife.

"Die!" Golden Chief charged forward with a roar, its massive arms seizing two jackalvamps blocking its path as it lunged.

Poof! Poof!

The remaining two jackals raised their heads in disbelief, staring at their vampire father.

On their lower abdomens, a silver alloy knife had penetrated from their backs, turning them into gourds.

"Now, can you remember how many sons you have?"

I stood behind the two fallen vamps, my blood-stained face a mask of chilling serenity. The knife in my hand, held sideways, glinted in the fading light. Golden Chief, dazed and disbelieving, stared at its slain offspring.

In the village, a few battered figures dared to raise their heads, their bodies bearing the marks of unimaginable torment. As their eyes focused on the scene before them, they clutched each other tighter, a tremor running through their ravaged forms.

They saw the young officer, remarkably unscathed, standing amidst a gruesome tableau of severed limbs, spilled intestines, and the grotesque heads of monstrous jackals. The dry earth was soaked crimson with blood, a metallic stench hanging heavy in the air.

A single figure, a single blade. The ground before him was a macabre canvas of carnage, while behind him, the village remained untouched.

The monstrous Golden Chief, its massive body heaving with ragged breaths, trembled before this lone warrior.

I slowly pointed the blade at Golden Chief's eyebrows and tilted my head: "I thought you liked this kind of scene."

If you didn't like it, why toring the mother and girl into dozens of pieces and scattering them in the hallway.

Golden Chief raised its head and suddenly let out a chuckle: "They're all dead. That makes things much easier."

With a guttural growl, the flesh across Golden Chief's form rippled and writhed, pulsating with a malevolent energy. Scarlet tendrils, thick and viscous as blood, erupted from its skin, coiling and twisting into a miasma that swiftly choked the surrounding air.

The corrosive haze clung to everything it touched, reducing flesh and plasma alike to a bubbling, festering ooze. A sickening sizzle filled the air as the surroundings dissolved into a grotesque parody of its former self.

Unfazed by the grotesque display, I stood my ground. I had anticipated this; a transcendent beastvamp was surely capable of more than mere brute force.

With a deep inhale, I channeled the energy within me. Five chambers of energy surged to life, and a radiant mist enveloped my form. It crackled and hissed against the encroaching evil, each a force of nature striving for dominance.

There was no time to hesitate. I lunged forward, the blade in my hand flashing with the gathered might of heaven and earth.

With a sickening schlick, the blade bit deep, cleaving through the vampire's flesh as if it were parchment. Golden Chief's putrid ichor mingled with the celestial energy of my strike, a grotesque fusion of light and darkness.

From the gaping wound, a torrent of scarlet energy erupted, a maelstrom of malevolence tenfold more potent than before. The knife was stuck in between its ribs, however. Golden Chief's head lolled, its eyes burning with undying hatred. With a grating of bone against silver, it lunged, as if it wanted to grind me into its obese body.

With a snarl, I abandoned the embedded blade. My fist tightened, drawing upon the reservoirs of energy still thrumming within me.

The blow landed without fanfare, yet the impact rippled through the vamp's corpulent form, a shockwave against a tide of putrescence.