The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

A wall of hunters is nearly upon me.

I raise my hands, intending to knock them back with a homemade tornado, but then I see the hunters leading the charge—Em, knives in hand, and Kainda, hammer raised. These are my hunters.

As they reach me, I turn and run with them, raising Whipsnap and shouting. The roar of my hunters that follows fills me with energy, and I throw myself into battle against men and women fighting for themselves, rather than a cause they believe in. Their selfish motivations are weak compared to the convictions of my hunters, and the battle turns in our favor.

I try not to think, or feel over the next few minutes. Both ends of my weapon quickly become stained with human blood. And as more and more hunters fall to my skill, but also to the raw power with which I can now infuse my body, I try not to count.

But not counting is impossible for me.

A sword strikes my back, but I see it coming and tighten the molecules of my body. What would have been a killing blow clangs off my shoulder blades before a hammer drives the man to the ground.

“Watch yourself!” Kainda shouts at me.

Em appears by my other side. She whips a knife, dropping a charging hunter and draws a fresh blade before the body strikes the ground. “You shouldn’t be here!” she shouts at me. “You’re too important.”

“We’re all important,” I argue back, lifting a group of five hunters from the ground and using the wind to send them flying into their comrades. “Especially, you two. I will not leave you.”

“Then fight harder,” Kainda urges.

Fight harder? Hasn’t she been watching? She strikes down two hunters, quickly and efficiently. Probably not watching, I decide.

“Our people are dying!” Kainda says.

That’s when I realize that it’s me who hasn’t been watching.

While our force of hunters is formidable, we’re actually outnumbered, and though our hunters are killing more, they have more lives to spare. But if I use my abilities against humans, how much will I have left for the Nephilim?

It won’t matter if there is no one left to fight, I think.

Em must see my inner conflict reflected in my face. “You can do it, Sol.”

Faith, I think.

Kainda grips my shoulder hard. Her touch is like electricity.

Passion.

I look at my wife, the power of her words and presence filling me. Then I leap away, rising above the battle and landing just beyond our front line. With a pulse of air, I clear the area around me. And then, I focus.

It doesn’t matter if I kill a hundred or a thousand, I tell myself. This is a fight the human race cannot lose, no matter the cost. Like Luca, I must push myself to the limit and beyond to achieve that end, even if it kills me. This is for you, Holloway, I think.

Then I strike.

With a spin, I swing Whipsnap around my head like I’m striking a combatant. But there isn’t anyone within range—of my physical weapon. But I am not striking with Whipsnap, I am striking with the very air of Antarctica itself.

A blade, nearly a half mile long and razor thin, follows Whipsnap’s path as I swing. With my eyes closed, I finish the strike, careful not to extend it into our own ranks. For a moment, I fear that my attack has failed. Every hunter I struck thus far provided resistance—a subtle tug on the blade as it severed their flesh. But there was no resistance this time, no tug, no indication that I struck a single enemy. That is, until I open my eyes.

While I have left the enemies to my back alive—perhaps a few hundred hunters—the thousands between me and the fallen behemoth are now dead.

Thousands.

God, no.

I fall to my knees. The weight of genocide falls on my shoulders like a cartoon anvil.

This is what Nephil wants.

This is why he sent hunters first.

To destroy my soul.

But he has misjudged me. He has already used me to kill billions. And I found forgiveness for that, and the burden lifted. Cronus’s words return to me. “Forgiveness cannot be earned. It can only be granted and received.” The Titan leader living in Tartarus, knowing I needed to hear the words, then said, “Solomon, for your crimes against your fellow men, for the darkness of your heart and for the evil thoughts of your mind, you are forgiven.”

And I was.

As I am now.

Hands grip my arms and pull me up. I recognize the feel of Kainda’s hands and don’t resist. As I stand, I look back and find the enemy hunters defeated. I have lost at least a thousand of my own hunters, but those that remain look strong and steadfast.

“I did it,” I say, mostly to myself, but Kainda responds.

“And you will need to again,” she says.

I look toward the bottleneck, but from this vantage point on the ground, so close to behemoth, the giant’s body keeps me from seeing the enemy. But I can feel them. The Nephilim.

Their true assault is just beginning.





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