Free Web NovelChapter 220: _The Victor Is Clear
Pantheon Underground Base, Appalachian Mountains
"So I take it that none of us had any luck regarding the Void Entity." Wukong was the first to speak as every member trooped into the main meeting room one by one.
Apollo and Kali were already waiting by the round table, the latter not even bothering to sit. She seemed to be the most disturbed, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table.
Yemoja sighed from the room’s entrance. "Wukong and I searched the entirety of the Shawnee National Forest. And areas around it."
"The slimy bastard deleted its aether trails." Wukong snorted. "Then left behind enough to keep us chasing after absolutely nothing."
"More disturbing signs of intelligence," Apollo murmured. "Kali wasn’t able to get any luck with her projections either."
"This is seeming more and more like a wild goose chase." Yemoja made her way to the table. "And the Federation still hasn’t reported any luck tracking it?"
Apollo shook his head. "They’re even more clueless than we are."
"Where’s Loki by the way?" Wukong noted. "Although I doubt he’d have any luck."
"Their task was the easiest," Yemoja argued. "Apollo basically sent them off on vacation to Aurelia."
"They’re not on..." Apollo nearly raised his voice but quickly stopped himself by rubbing the bridge of his nose. "They’re not on vacation. And I might argue that their mission is the hardest."
"Oh, really?" Yemoja’s lips curved in a sarcastic smile. "Call them then. They couldn’t pause the so-called mission to attend this meeting at least?"
Wukong was already one step ahead.
He dialled one of Loki’s many numbers and let it ring loud enough for all of them to hear. When it ceased with no response he waved the screen to their faces.
"Must be so caught up with his special mission."
"The last I heard from them," Apollo raised a hand, "they’d infiltrated Phoenix Flight HQ and had their sights on the C-Rank Guide."
"Ambrose Hale?"
"Yes."
Wukong frowned, his eyes sweeping past all their faces. When no one said anything he tapped a few times on his phone and pulled out an article on Hunter gossip.
"None of you saw the news from almost a week ago?" He pointed at his phone again. "Apparently he quit from Phoenix Flight. I heard he even moved out."
Apollo’s expression shifted.
He stretched a hand and grabbed the phone, skimming through the article carefully. Once he was done he lifted his eyes to Wukong again.
The latter withdrew his phone to himself. "If this Guide quit then where the hell is Loki?"
None of them had an answer to that. And if any of them were being honest... it was unlikely they’d like whatever it is either.
★★★★★
Orc Throne room
Ambrose glanced over his shoulder at nothing in particular.
He got this odd feeling. Like there was someone talking about him too much for comfort.
But he didn’t have time to question if that was imaginary or from his nerves.
Not with the battle that had begun ahead of him.
Captain Killian made a second copy of his sword and crossed them into an "x" over his head right when Uruk the orc champion lifted his broadsword.
With a monstrous swing, the heavy black blade descended, sending wisps of wind that forced every Hunter to either squint or place an arm over their face.
The second the shockwaves from the impact cleared, Ambrose stared intently at the orc.
Killian had somehow survived that strike, moving like a shadow as he lunged at the orc’s side. Uruk dodged narrowly, slashing his blade after the puny human.
Just when the blade was inches away from cutting Killian—he switched tactics.
He created hundreds of copies of his sword, making them surround Uruk from virtually every corner. So now the orc was cornered while having his broadsword aimed for the Esper’s chest.
’He’s not going to make it.’ Ambrose held his breath as time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace.
Then—the broadsword struck Killian’s swords, the sheer force so strong that it pried them out of his grip. He skidded through the floor until he was at the feet of the other Hunters.
Meanwhile, the sword copies rained upon the orc at once.
Uruk roared, shielding his face as he struggled to escape the vicinity of the raining swords.
His roar echoed through the throne room as the storm of swords battered against his body.
Steel clanged.
Sparks exploded.
Several blades bit into his flesh, drawing dark blood that splattered across the stone floor.
The Hunters stared in disbelief.
"He hit him!"
"Captain actually hit him!"
When the rain of swords finally ended, Uruk stood in the middle of the destruction, breathing heavily and bleeding.
But only barely.
Thin cuts crisscrossed his arms and shoulders. One slash had opened the side of his neck. Another carved through a portion of his armour.
Yet it was almost nothing to the orc.
Meanwhile, Captain Killian pushed himself off the ground with shaking arms. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he pulled out another sword.
The two warriors locked eyes.
Then charged.
This time Uruk didn’t attack like a berserker. He attacked like a veteran, ensuring every swing was controlled.
Killian barely managed to parry the first strike before a second came from an impossible angle. The impact rattled his bones.
A third slash followed.
Then a fourth.
Uruk’s broadsword became a blur.
Killian desperately created more copies of his weapon, but the orc simply cut through them one after another.
CRACK!
A sword shattered. Then another broke.
Uruk stepped inside Killian’s guard while the Hunters collectively sucked in a breath.
The broadsword flashed, blood spraying a couple of seconds after.
Killian’s body spun before crashing violently against the stone floor. A deep gash stretched from his shoulder down across his torso.
For several terrifying seconds, he didn’t move.
"Captain!" The female Hunter nearly ran forward.
Killian groaned, his fingers twitching. He tried forcing himself back onto his feet.
Uruk simply watched, disdain clear on his features.
From atop the black throne, the Orc King released a disappointed sigh. "It is clear who the victor is."
The words landed like a death sentence.
Around Ambrose, the Hunters looked utterly broken.
Some were trembling. Others had gone pale. One Guide was already muttering prayers under his breath.
Ambrose clenched his jaw.
His gaze shifted between the wounded captain, the army of orcs and the throne.
At this rate they were all dead. Unless he stepped forward and stopped pretending.
"Wait."
The single word cut through the tension.
Every head turned as Leon stepped forward.
