Read Online The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga) by Jeremy Robinson - Free Book Online Page B
Book: The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga) by Jeremy Robinson
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Jeremy Robinson
Ads: Link
deep-rooted evil could ever have the opportunity for redemption.
Then I remember Ninnis, whose heart is as dark as any Nephilim. Worse, if you consider that he is fully human. The Nephilim are half demon. They were born at a moral disadvantage. But then there is Cronus and the other Titans.
Evil is a choice, I decide. Human or demon, there is a choice.
There is always a choice. Cronus’s words.
But what about the hunters?Broken so that their former self is gone. They’re turned into killers. Like I was.
But there is still a choice. Tobias, Em, Xin and maybe even Kainda chose to fight the will of their masters. There is always a choice.
There is always hope.
Step through, I tell myself. Stop delaying.
I raise my hand and place it through the veil. It tingles, but I feel nothing else. There could be an army waiting for me. Or Behemoth. Or Ninnis.
No , I think. No one is waiting . As far as they know, Tartarus is a one-way trip. Not to mention it’s been three months since I left. At most, there will be a hunter on watch. And that, I can handle.
I step through, eyes open.
The world turns black and then resolves again, like walking through a shadow. My eyes quickly adjust to the low light of the massive cavern on the other side, and I flinch back, nearly falling back into Tartarus.
Behemoth is waiting for me.
But there’s something wrong with the creature.
The massive body is shorter. Is it squatting? It’s leaned against the cavern wall, just to the right of the gates. Its mouth hangs open, revealing rows of giant triangular teeth. The body is limp. The long, red, tentacle-like hair hangs in loose bundles.
Is it sleeping? I wonder.
Then my senses pick up more details. The body lacks mass, as though deflated. The skin hangs loose in places. The normally black eyes are milky white and shriveled. And then there is the stench of decay.
Behemoth is dead.
I don’t even think Nephil could kill the giant beast on his own.
With my eyes turned toward the towering corpse, I step forward and I’m once again given cause to jump back. I’ve stepped in a puddle of water.
Cold water.
My powers have not yet returned.
As the chill of the underworld wraps itself around me, I realize how easy I’ve had it all this time. The other hunters live in the underworld, never complaining about the constant fifty-five degree temperature, while I’ve been living in temperature-free bliss. If my powers don’t return soon, I’m going to have to have to adapt to the cold.
But there is something else confusing about this puddle—the fact that it exists at all. When I last stood in this spot, moments before stepping back into Tartarus, no water flowed through this portion of Behemoth’s cavern. I look up and find the cavern floor littered with puddles. Even the air is moist.
My eyes return to Behemoth’s dead body, the mouth upturned and agape, as though gasping for air.
He drowned, I think. Behemoth drowned. The whole cavern must have flooded. But how is that possible?
A gentle scratching sound pulls my attention down to the massive, shriveled stub of flesh that used to be Behemoth’s leg. I step closer, watching as a small spot of flesh the size of my fist pulses in and out, as though being poked from within. When I’m ten feet away, the skin tears and one of the underworld’s most common denizens—the giant albino centipede—slips out. This one is bigger than most. In fact, it might be the biggest specimen I’ve ever seen. The portion emerging is three feet long and nearly as thick as a football. If the proportions of this centipede match the ones I’m used to, it’s at least another six feet long!
Big enough to put up a fight.
Big enough to eat me.
When it senses my presence, it stops and turns its head toward me. Its two antennae dance in the air. This is the point where the creatures usually identify me as a hunter and attempt to flee.
This one stands its ground.
Oookay.
I feel like I’ve stepped into a
Then I remember Ninnis, whose heart is as dark as any Nephilim. Worse, if you consider that he is fully human. The Nephilim are half demon. They were born at a moral disadvantage. But then there is Cronus and the other Titans.
Evil is a choice, I decide. Human or demon, there is a choice.
There is always a choice. Cronus’s words.
But what about the hunters?Broken so that their former self is gone. They’re turned into killers. Like I was.
But there is still a choice. Tobias, Em, Xin and maybe even Kainda chose to fight the will of their masters. There is always a choice.
There is always hope.
Step through, I tell myself. Stop delaying.
I raise my hand and place it through the veil. It tingles, but I feel nothing else. There could be an army waiting for me. Or Behemoth. Or Ninnis.
No , I think. No one is waiting . As far as they know, Tartarus is a one-way trip. Not to mention it’s been three months since I left. At most, there will be a hunter on watch. And that, I can handle.
I step through, eyes open.
The world turns black and then resolves again, like walking through a shadow. My eyes quickly adjust to the low light of the massive cavern on the other side, and I flinch back, nearly falling back into Tartarus.
Behemoth is waiting for me.
But there’s something wrong with the creature.
The massive body is shorter. Is it squatting? It’s leaned against the cavern wall, just to the right of the gates. Its mouth hangs open, revealing rows of giant triangular teeth. The body is limp. The long, red, tentacle-like hair hangs in loose bundles.
Is it sleeping? I wonder.
Then my senses pick up more details. The body lacks mass, as though deflated. The skin hangs loose in places. The normally black eyes are milky white and shriveled. And then there is the stench of decay.
Behemoth is dead.
I don’t even think Nephil could kill the giant beast on his own.
With my eyes turned toward the towering corpse, I step forward and I’m once again given cause to jump back. I’ve stepped in a puddle of water.
Cold water.
My powers have not yet returned.
As the chill of the underworld wraps itself around me, I realize how easy I’ve had it all this time. The other hunters live in the underworld, never complaining about the constant fifty-five degree temperature, while I’ve been living in temperature-free bliss. If my powers don’t return soon, I’m going to have to have to adapt to the cold.
But there is something else confusing about this puddle—the fact that it exists at all. When I last stood in this spot, moments before stepping back into Tartarus, no water flowed through this portion of Behemoth’s cavern. I look up and find the cavern floor littered with puddles. Even the air is moist.
My eyes return to Behemoth’s dead body, the mouth upturned and agape, as though gasping for air.
He drowned, I think. Behemoth drowned. The whole cavern must have flooded. But how is that possible?
A gentle scratching sound pulls my attention down to the massive, shriveled stub of flesh that used to be Behemoth’s leg. I step closer, watching as a small spot of flesh the size of my fist pulses in and out, as though being poked from within. When I’m ten feet away, the skin tears and one of the underworld’s most common denizens—the giant albino centipede—slips out. This one is bigger than most. In fact, it might be the biggest specimen I’ve ever seen. The portion emerging is three feet long and nearly as thick as a football. If the proportions of this centipede match the ones I’m used to, it’s at least another six feet long!
Big enough to put up a fight.
Big enough to eat me.
When it senses my presence, it stops and turns its head toward me. Its two antennae dance in the air. This is the point where the creatures usually identify me as a hunter and attempt to flee.
This one stands its ground.
Oookay.
I feel like I’ve stepped into a
Similar Books
