The Hunter's Odyssey-Chapter 82: Whiteout Kill

"Oh, ho, ho! That is something!" The words tumbled out of Jagger’s mouth, sharp with excitement.

-

[Item Acquired: Volatile Gutbomb]

[Grade: Brute]

[Type: Throwable]

[Effects: One impact causes a large-scale acid explosion. Highly corrosive.]

-

It took the form of a wide belt pouch, divided into three separate sections. Each compartment held a small, pulsating orb of green energy, no larger than an eyeball. The orbs shifted faintly as he watched, their glow swelling and dimming in a slow, rhythmic pattern, almost like breathing.

"Grenades? Magic frog grenades?" he said, a grin spreading across his face, bright and unrestrained. "This is going to be useful."

’Careful with those,’ Ophilia’s voice cut in, unimpressed, her tone cool and edged with warning. ’Brute-grade items are far more powerful than minion-grade ones. Mishandle it, and you might lose an arm.’

Jagger instinctively held the pouch slightly farther from his body, his expression tightening as the reality of that sank in. A second later, the item dissolved into motes of light and slipped into his inventory.

"So, no juggling then. Got it," he muttered, exhaling lightly as he resumed walking. "Alright, on to the next one."

The street stretched ahead, long and hollow, lined with broken storefronts and silent high-rises that loomed like empty husks. His boots moved at a steady pace, senses sharper now, more deliberate. The fight had woken something in him. Not just adrenaline. Awareness.

"Entity Resonance," he murmured under his breath.

Nothing.

He clicked his tongue. "Still nothing."

’It is not something you toggle like a light switch,’ Ophilia replied.

"Right. Of course. That would be too easy."

A faint sound broke through the quiet, it was a metallic scrape, followed by the shatter of glass. "NO! GET AWAY! SHIT! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY, HELP ME!"

Jagger’s steps faltered as he peeked from the side of the building he was walking past, and what he saw made the decision for him.

A group of four survivors was backed against the side of a bus. They were armed, but the fear in their faces told him everything. The creature was like a dinosaur as it stalked around the bus. Ramming and nudging it with its body, causing the survivors to scream and yell in fear and panic.

It was almost two and a half feet tall, stood on its hind legs, and had scythes for arms. It screeched as it swiped at the bus with its right arm, leaving a long, deep scratch on the metal.

"SHIT MAN! WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING! Jung, you’re the strongest among us, DO SOMETHING!" one of the men said.

The man he called Jung raised a fire extinguisher, a white canister of cheap hope. He was broader than the others, with muscles straining against a sweat-soaked t-shirt, but his eyes were wide with terror. "WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?!"

Before anyone could answer, the creature slammed into the bus again, its head rising as it let out a high-pitched, piercing screech that vibrated through the air.

Jagger opened his hands, and Jane’s Bowie knife appeared in one, and the Scavenger Fang appeared in the other. "Alright, here’s the plan. I’ll run in, you help me throw the Scavenger Fang and hit the target. And hope it inflicts the bleed debuff again. Then we will see what to do. Got it! Alright, here we go!" He said as he dashed towards the creature.

’You imbecile! This is not the way to use my power!’

"Shut up! I know what I’m doing!" He yelled, the distance between him and the creature shrinking with each step. "Corrupted Surge!" A surge of corruptive energy flooded through him, awakening an unnatural power. "OPHILIA, YOUR TURN!"

His arm moved as if it had a will of its own, but he was the one who did it. The world slowed as he pulled back and threw the Scavenger Fang. The knife flew through the air, spinning like a top. It moved in a line. Straight and true. The creature’s body was the target, and it hit.

A high-pitched screech tore from its throat as black blood sprayed from the wound.

[The Scythehand Skitterer has been inflicted with bleed!]

[Kill brute threat level Scythehand Skitterer.]

A spray of dark, viscous blood shot out, the creature shrieked in pain as it stumbled backward, "YEAH! BULLSEYE!"

It turned its head, its beady red eyes locking onto him. It let out another screech, like a hundred nails scratching a blackboard, as it charged.

[The Scythehand Skitterer has been enraged!]

The Scythehand Skitterer came fast.

Its clawed legs tore across the pavement in a blur of jerking speed, its scythe-like arms raised high as it shrieked and barreled straight toward him. Jagger barely had time to brace before instinct took over. He threw himself to the side, boots skidding across wet asphalt as one of the bladed limbs carved through the space where his chest had been a split second earlier.

The creature slammed into the side of the bus instead.

Metal buckled with a violent crunch. The survivors behind it screamed, pressing themselves harder against the dented frame as the whole vehicle shuddered from the impact.

Jagger came up low, one knee nearly scraping the ground, Jane’s Bowie knife clenched in one hand while his eyes locked onto the Scavenger Fang still lodged in the monster’s flank. Black blood streamed down its side in thick, sluggish rivulets, the bleed effect doing its work, but not fast enough.

Not nearly fast enough.

The Scythehand Skitterer jerked around and lunged again, faster this time, rage making its movements even more erratic. Jagger raised the Bowie knife and caught one of its scythe arms at an angle. Steel screamed against chitin. The force of the impact sent a brutal shock up his arm and nearly tore the blade from his grip.

"Fuck!"

He staggered backward.

The second scythe came for his neck.

Jagger ducked under it by inches, feeling the wind of it pass over his head. He drove forward on instinct and buried Jane’s Bowie knife into the side of the creature’s ribcage. The blade punched in shallow. Not enough. The creature screeched straight into his face, hot, rotten breath washing over him as it thrashed violently.

Its head snapped forward.

Teeth clamped onto his shoulder.

Pain exploded through him.

Jagger roared and slammed his fist into the side of its skull once, twice, three times. Bone Rattlers cracked against its hide with dull, brutal force. On the fourth hit, the creature finally released him and sprang backward, black blood dripping from its mouth.

Jagger stumbled away, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped hot beneath his torn shirt. He could already feel the wound trying to close, that familiar tingling spread under the pain, but his regeneration would not keep up forever.

The creature crouched low, circling now.

Watching.

Its red eyes flicked between him and the trapped survivors. Its body was leaner than the Boomgut Toad’s, tighter, built for speed and ripping attacks rather than brute force. Bleeding it out was possible, but not before it carved him to pieces or reached the others.

Jagger’s breathing slowed.

His eyes flicked to the group behind the bus.

Then, to the man still holding the fire extinguisher like a useless club.

Then back to the creature.

’The extinguisher.’

His mind caught on it for half a second, then started moving.

’Compressed canister. Metal body. Pressurized. If the thing bit down hard enough...’

The Scythehand Skitterer shrieked and launched again.

Jagger moved to meet it.

This time, he did not retreat. He stepped into its charge, forcing himself to ignore the scream from every instinct telling him to get out of the way. At the last second, he twisted aside and snatched the Scavenger Fang from its side as it passed, ripping the blade free in a spray of black blood.

The creature spun with terrifying speed and slashed.

One scythe raked across his ribs.

His shirt tore open. Flesh split. Hot pain lanced through his side hard enough to make his vision flash white.

He staggered, breath catching in his throat.

The Skitterer tensed for the killing strike.

"HEY!" Jagger barked, turning sharply toward the survivors. He pointed at the broad-shouldered man. "Jung! The extinguisher! Throw it here!"

For a second, the man just stared.

"What?!"

"THROW ME THE DAMN THING!"

Jung flinched like the shout slapped him back to life. He looked at the canister in his hands, then at the monster, then at Jagger. Fear twisted across his face, but he hurled it anyway.

The extinguisher spun through the air.

Jagger snatched it one-handed.

Heavy.

Cold.

The Scythehand Skitterer screeched again and rushed him, its beady red eyes fixed on movement, hunger, and blood.

Good.

Jagger backed up two quick steps, then planted his feet.

For one heartbeat, everything sharpened.

The creature’s twitching limbs.

The blood running down his side.

The slick pavement under his boots.

The survivors are holding their breath behind the bus.

Then Jagger hurled the fire extinguisher straight at the monster’s head.

Not to kill.

To bait.

The Skitterer reacted exactly like he hoped. Its jaws snapped open on instinct and clamped onto the flying canister with a metallic crunch.

"Got you."

Its teeth pierced the handle.

The lever depressed.

A violent blast of white suppressant exploded outward into its face.

The creature jerked back instantly, shrieking as the pressurized cloud engulfed its head. Thick white spray burst in every direction, hissing across the pavement and shrouding the street in choking smoke. The Skitterer thrashed wildly inside it, blinded, disoriented, snapping at nothing.

Jagger moved.

Fast.

Silent.

He plunged straight into the whiteout.

Cold suppressant clung to his skin and soaked his clothes. Visibility dropped to almost nothing, but the creature gave itself away with every panicked screech and violent slash through the air. Jagger kept low, circling through the smoke with the Scavenger Fang held tight in one hand and Jane’s Bowie knife in the other.

A scythe arm sliced through the mist where his head had been.

He slipped under it.

There.

A dark outline.

A heaving body.

The hiss of the extinguisher is still spewing from its jaws.

Jagger surged up from below and drove Jane’s Bowie knife deep into one hind leg. The Scythehand Skitterer screamed and buckled. Before it could recover, he stepped in close, almost chest to chest with the thrashing monster, and slammed the Scavenger Fang into the underside of its throat.

The serrated blade punched in.

Then tore sideways.

A wet, ripping sound cut through the smoke.

The shriek died mid-breath.

Black blood burst hot across his hand and forearm. The creature convulsed violently, limbs jerking in one last burst of blind panic. Jagger gritted his teeth, planted his boots, and dragged the blade deeper, opening the throat all the way through.

The Scythehand Skitterer collapsed.

Its body hit the pavement hard enough to shake the ground beneath him.

For a few seconds, the only sound left was the dying hiss of the fire extinguisher and Jagger’s ragged breathing.

The white cloud slowly began to thin.

Jagger stood over the corpse, shoulders rising and falling, blood running down his side and shoulder, both knives dripping black. His outline emerged first from the smoke, then his face, hard and drawn and streaked with sweat and grime.

Behind him, the survivors stared in stunned silence.

The creature twitched once.

Then went still.

[Brute threat level Scythehand Skitterer has been slain.]

Jagger exhaled through his nose and looked down at the dead monster.

"Okay," he muttered, voice rough. "That was actually pretty fucking cool."

’You could have used the Volatile Gutbomb you know.’ Ophilia’s commentary was mocking.