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Hunt In Reverse
54. Who Gave You Permission to Leave

54. Who Gave You Permission to Leave

The old woman's eyes twinkled mischievously, and I braced myself for another round of matchmaking attempts. But before she could utter a word, I hastily excused myself, mumbling something about needing to unpack and settle in.

The memory of Rose slumped over the table, fast asleep, a cascade of blonde hair framing her delicate features, emerged in my mind.

Followed by the image of her stretching languidly as she walked out of the living room, her tousled hair framing her face in a wild cascade of golden waves.

I couldn't help but sigh. Finding my footing in this chaotic world was still a challenge. In a career where survival was a daily struggle, romantic entanglements seemed a responsibility I couldn't afford.

Retreated to my new dwelling, I sat by the bed and placed a vial of Vein-Opening Elixir in my mouth. Instantly, an intense bitterness spread across my tongue—as if I licked a battery.

Fortunately, after tasting foul-smelling vampire cores, this bitter taste was hardly a challenge.

I focused intently as I summoned the panel.

[Wave Realm - Shadow Touch (untrained)]

[Remaining Absorbed Lifespan: 300 years]

The 300 years of lifespan was a carefully hoarded reserve for unexpected dangers. Should I deplete it entirely and then encounter a powerful vampire, I would be left utterly defenseless after just one use of the Bloody Quintet technique.

However, with my position in H.A.R.M. secured, I now had access to the Wave Realm. Once I familiarized myself with the organization's inner workings, acquiring more lifespan shouldn't be an insurmountable challenge. The prospect of tapping into the vast reserves of vampire lifespans fueled my determination.

In this context, hoarding three hundred years of lifespan felt almost absurd, a miser clinging to his gold in a world overflowing with riches.

I shook my head, banishing the distracting thoughts. With a newfound focus, I began to channel lifespan into the Shadow Touch technique, carefully measuring each increment.

Every ounce of progress mattered. Each step forward, no matter how small, increased my chances of survival in the face of the unknown.

[In the first year, you immersed yourself in the texts, the potent medicinal energy of the elixir coursing through your essence veins like liquid fire. The intensity was both exhilarating and daunting. You had never encountered such a powerful tonic, and you treated each drop with reverence, determined to extract every ounce of its transformative power.]

[In the third year, with the consumption of the second vial, your essence veins and chambers expanded further. The knowledge from the texts was now ingrained in your mind, and countless insights about energy pathways flooded your thoughts. Your eyes held a pure clarity, untouched by the complexities of the world.]

[In the ninth year, the final elixir completed its work. Your chambers, now brimming with potential, hummed with a quiet power. A sense of profound accomplishment washed over you. Though the true nature of 'veins' remained tantalizingly out of reach, your quest for understanding continued, your eyes open to the subtle wonders of the world.]

The admiral's wisdom was undeniable. The Harmonious Quartet, a symphony of life force manipulation, and the Shadow Touch, a brutal ballet of physical combat, represented two divergent paths to mastery. Each demanded a lifetime of unwavering dedication, a singular focus that few could sustain.

Even for those blessed with exceptional talent, achieving true proficiency in one was a monumental feat. With such mastery, one could effortlessly dominate their peers, their every strike imbued with the distilled celestial essence of countless hours of practice.

For those of ordinary talent, the path was even more arduous. The profound depth of these techniques might remain forever elusive, a tantalizing dream just beyond their grasp.

But I was not one to be constrained by the limitations of time. I'll master them all, I resolved, as a surge of defiance coursed through me.

[In the 26th year, you reached out and gently stroked the rough bark of a tree, your fingertips tracing its intricate patterns. Leaning in, you closed your eyes, your senses heightened. You could almost hear the tree's silent “heartbeat”, the slow, steady pulse of life coursing through its ancient veins.]

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[In the 48th year, you cradled a massive boulder in your arms as if it were a hatching egg. A manic grin spread across your face, and a flood of exhilaration surged through you. The secrets of the Shadow Touch were finally within your grasp!]

[In the 69th year, despair washed over you. The elusive "veins" of the world remained hidden, your pursuit a frustrating dance of shadows. Rising with a growl of frustration, you unleashed a flurry of strikes upon the weathered boulder. To your astonishment, the once-solid rock crumbled beneath your assault, revealing a network of fine, dust-filled fissures. "Stones really do have veins," you muttered, a flicker of grim satisfaction crossing your face. "And now, this one is dead."]

[Wave Realm - Shadow Touch (Apprentice)]

[In the 71st year, your palm strikes gained a newfound precision, your movements a subtle grace.]

[Wave Realm - Shadow Touch (Journeyman)]

[In the 73rd year, the world shifted. The hidden networks of energy that pulsed beneath the surface of all things, revealed themselves to your awakened senses. The concept of 'veins' was no longer an abstract notion, but a living, breathing reality. All that remained was to perfect your timing, to synchronize your strikes with the rhythm of the universe.]

[Wave Realm - Shadow Touch (Master)]

[In the 75th year, Shadow Touch was perfected.]

[Wave Realm - Shadow Touch (Grandmaster)]

A sudden enlightenment ignited a period of rapid progress. This newfound momentum brought a startling realization: the talent in fist and palm techniques, once considered a mere footnote in my journey, now held newfound importance. The lifespan I had dedicated to the Tempest Strikes technique, even after perfecting it, had not been wasted.

In a mere five years, I had propelled Shadow Touch—a Wave Realm technique—from apprentice level to grandmaster.

Sure enough, as long as the path didn't involve the unpredictable dance of comprehension and enlightenment, I was capable of extraordinary feats.

I closed the panel and shut my eyes, savoring my newfound power. The most striking change was the surge of energy coursing through my major chambers—a wellspring far more abundant than before.

For most, this transformation would have merely doubled their physical strength. For me, however, it unlocked a far more potent version of the Bloody Quintet—a devastating symphony of destruction now less shackled by a limited essence reserve.

Moreover, my essence assimilation speed had doubled, and I still only needed five years of lifespan to replenish depleted chambers.

"The so-called Shadow Touch," I mused, my voice a low whisper, "is actually a method of imposing restrictions."

Without breaking the surface, my palm could now sever veins, disrupt the flow of essence, and extinguish life with a single, silent strike.

I recalled how Rose had fallen victim to a similar vampire technique. Given her status at the peak of the Wave Realm, the vampire who had inflicted such misery upon her was likely operating at the Crystal Realm.

With a Wave Realm technique, I could now touch upon the power of the Crystal Realm. The seventy-five years I had invested had yielded a weapon of unimaginable potential.

The following days brought a welcome respite. The constant fear of lurking vampires—an ever-present threat during my time in Pinewood County—had vanished. Within the tranquil confines of the courtyard, I could finally relax, allowing my long-tense nerves to unwind.

The sprawling H.A.R.M. headquarters, a fortress of black uniforms and converging auras, offered a sense of security I had never known. It was, perhaps, the safest place in all of Cascadia.

… …

Having acquired the martial art, my agreement with Rose was fulfilled. However, the old lady's stamppot was delicious, especially when paired with pea soup. Though not particularly filling, the dishes were incredibly appetizing. Since she didn't seem to mind, I was content to linger for a few more days.

Max Vierkant's attitude, however, remained a constant source of irritation. His demonstrations of the Shadow Touch were precise and powerful, but his gaze always held a hint of disdain, as if he doubted my ability to grasp the technique's intricacies. I couldn't fathom what I had done to earn his disapproval.

But I had little time or inclination to dwell on his opinions. Flattery and social maneuvering were not my strengths, nor did they interest me.

"What do you think?" Vierkant asked one day after he had finished his practice. His eyes, however, remained distant, focused on some unseen horizon.

I stood beside him, my hands clasped behind my back. After a moment's contemplation, I replied simply, "Very good."

His Shadow Touch was probably still in early journeyman stages, but the raw power and potential were undeniable. Considering his youth and the fact that it had taken me seventy years of dedicated training to achieve a similar level of mastery, his progress was remarkable. I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy, a reminder of my own limitations.

Vierkant's lips curled into a sneer. My perfunctory praise, he assumed, was an attempt to mask my ignorance.

Without another word, he turned and walked back into his house, leaving me alone in the courtyard.

A sudden commotion shattered the tranquility of the courtyard. Footsteps pounded on the cobblestones, and Dave Gray's anxious face appeared at the entrance. "Agent Kane!" he hissed, his voice barely a whisper. "Hurry up and get ready, it's time to work.”

"Give me a moment," I said, flexing my fingers. Anticipation coursed through me as I yearned to test my newfound strength against the vampires. The rest had been welcome, but I couldn't allow myself to grow complacent. I needed to maintain the edge that had kept me alive thus far.

No matter how peaceful this sanctuary seemed, it wasn't truly mine. It couldn't shield me forever.

As I was walking towards the house to retrieve my sword, a voice sliced through the air, calm yet cold. "Who gave you permission to leave?"

Max Vierkant stood in the center of the yard, his imposing figure blocking the gate. His eyes, typically devoid of emotion, now blazed with an icy intensity.

I met his gaze, my smile a silent challenge. A dangerous aura emanated from me, a predator's instinct awakened.