Master of Lust-Chapter 317 - -

Chapter - 317

The island jungle was alive with the sound of insects and the rustle of palm fronds in the wind. Rick moved silently, his bare feet making no sound on the sand. He pulled the thermal goggles down.

The world turned into shades of blue and grey. Heat sources glowed bright orange and white.

He scanned the treeline. A bird nesting. A lizard on a rock.

And then, 300 yards away, a heat signature. Human. Prone. Behind a rock formation.

"Got you," Rick whispered.

He lay down in the sand, propping the massive barrel of the Barrett on a fallen coconut log. He adjusted the scope.

The thermal image sharpened. The figure was adjusting a rifle.

Rick exhaled. He squeezed the trigger.

BOOM!

The sound of the .50 caliber rifle was like a cannon shot. It shook the leaves from the trees. The recoil punched Rick’s shoulder.

Through the scope, he saw the rock formation explode. Stone shards and dust flew everywhere. The heat signature vanished.

[System Notification: Enemy Eliminated (Mercenary Level 2). +500 XP]

"Mercenary?" Rick frowned. "That wasn’t The Huntsman. That was a grunt."

THWIP.

A bullet struck the sand inches from his face, spraying silica into his eyes.

Rick rolled, cursing. "Ambush!"

He scrambled to his feet and sprinted into the treeline. The shot had come from the left. There was more than one.

[System Warning: Multiple Hostiles Detected. Triangulation in progress...]

Three red dots appeared on his HUD. They were moving fast, closing in on the villa from three sides.

"He’s testing me," Rick realized. "He sent pawns to flush me out."

He ran through the jungle, the heavy rifle banging against his back. He needed to thin the herd.

He reached a narrow path leading up from the beach to the villa’s side entrance. He stopped. He had one Claymore left in his inventory—he’d kept one for himself.

He planted it in the sand, covered it with a palm frond, and rigged the tripwire across the path. Then he scrambled up a tree, perching on a thick branch fifteen feet in the air.

He waited.

Thirty seconds later, a shape moved through the darkness below. A man in full tactical gear, moving with professional silence. He was scanning the ground, looking for footprints.

He didn’t see the wire.

CLICK.

BOOM!

The Claymore detonated. Seven hundred steel ball bearings shredded the air in a fan-shaped arc of death. The mercenary didn’t even scream. He was just erased.

[Enemy Eliminated. +500 XP]

"Two down," Rick whispered.

Suddenly, the tree shuddered.

Rick looked down.

Standing at the base of the tree, looking straight up at him through a pair of glowing green night-vision goggles, was a man. He wasn’t wearing tactical gear. He was wearing a beige windbreaker and slacks. He looked like an accountant.

It was The Huntsman.

The Huntsman raised a pistol. A suppressed .45.

"Found you," the man said softly.

Rick didn’t think. He didn’t climb down. He jumped.

He launched himself from the branch, dropping fifteen feet.

The Huntsman fired. Pfft-pfft.

One bullet grazed Rick’s ribs, a line of fire across his skin. The other missed as Rick crashed through the canopy.

Rick landed in the sand, rolling to absorb the impact. He came up with the Barrett in his hands, but at this range, the sniper rifle was a club.

The Huntsman was already moving. He didn’t run; he flowed. He stepped around the tree, firing methodically.

Rick swung the massive rifle like a baseball bat. The heavy steel barrel connected with The Huntsman’s gun hand.

CRACK.

The pistol flew into the darkness.

The Huntsman didn’t flinch. He didn’t pause. He pulled a knife—a long, curved Karambit—from his belt with his left hand and slashed.

Rick stumbled back, the blade slicing through his tactical vest, stopping just short of his skin.

"Fast," Rick muttered, dropping the useless rifle and drawing the combat knife he’d bought with the vest.

"You are sloppy," The Huntsman said, his voice devoid of exertion. "You rely on tools. You rely on luck. I rely on certainty."

He lunged.

It was a blur of steel and violence. Rick blocked a slash, countered with a thrust, and was met with a kick to the knee that nearly buckled his leg. The Huntsman fights like a machine—efficient, no wasted movement.

Rick was stronger, faster thanks to his stats, but The Huntsman was skilled.

Rick activated Predator’s Focus.

The world slowed. He saw the Karambit arcing toward his throat. He saw The Huntsman’s eyes behind the glasses—dead, cold, calculating.

Rick ducked under the blade. He drove his shoulder into The Huntsman’s chest.

Time snapped back.

The impact sent The Huntsman stumbling back a few steps.

Rick didn’t let up. He pressed the attack. He slashed, a feint to the face, then drove a knee into The Huntsman’s stomach.

The Huntsman grunted, absorbing the blow. He grabbed Rick’s leg, twisted, and threw him.

Rick flew through the air, crashing into a palm tree. His vision swam.

The Huntsman walked toward him, flipping the Karambit in his hand. "Silas paid five hundred million. You are putting up a fight worthy of the price."

Rick spat blood into the sand. "I’m worth more than that."

He needed an edge. Predator’s Focus was on cooldown. Voice of Command wouldn’t work on a man like this; his will was too strong.

He checked the Shop.

[Combat Mode Active.]

[Available Funds: $6,824,000]

He needed something close range. Something nasty.

[Item: High-Voltage Taser Knuckles]

[Cost: $2,000]

"Bought."

Electricity crackled around Rick’s fists as the brass knuckles materialized on his hands. The blue arcs of light illuminated the jungle clearing.

The Huntsman paused, tilting his head. "Interesting."

"Science," Rick grinned, blood staining his teeth.

He charged.

The Huntsman slashed. Rick caught the blade on his armored forearm guard, ignoring the pain of the impact, and drove his right fist—crackling with 50,000 volts—into The Huntsman’s chest.

ZAAAAAP!

The Huntsman convulsed. His muscles locked up. He dropped the knife.

Rick hit him again. A left hook to the jaw. ZAP!

And again. A right to the stomach. ZAP!

The Huntsman crumpled, his nervous system overloaded. He fell to his knees, twitching, smoke rising from his windbreaker.

Rick stood over him, panting. "Certainty is overrated."

He raised his fist for a final, finishing blow.

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the villa up the hill.

Rick spun around. Fire was billowing from the living room windows.

"SHARON! NADIA!"

He looked back at The Huntsman. The man was down, incapacitated for at least a few minutes.

Rick had a choice. Finish the Nemesis, or save the girls.

It wasn’t a choice.

He turned and sprinted up the hill, his heart hammering against his ribs harder than any punch.

Part 3: The Villa Siege

Rick burst onto the pool deck. The villa was a mess. The front door had been blown in—Sharon’s Claymore had done its job, but there were more attackers.

Three mercenaries were in the living room, firing suppressed SMGs at the overturned heavy oak table where Sharon and Nadia were pinned.

Sharon was firing back blindly over the top of the table, her 9mm barking defiant retorts. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"Flank them!" one merc yelled.

"Hey!" Rick roared from the doorway.

The three mercs turned.

Rick didn’t have a gun. He had taser knuckles and a lot of rage.

He activated Bullet Time.

Five seconds.

He crossed the room.

One. He punched the first merc in the throat. The electricity fried his vocal cords. He went down clutching his neck.

Two. He grabbed a heavy marble bust from a side table and smashed it into the second merc’s helmet. The helmet cracked. The merc dropped.

Three. The third merc raised his gun.

Four. Rick slid across the polished floor, baseball-sliding into the merc’s legs.

Five.

Time resumed.

Rick was on top of the third merc, pounding his face with the electrified knuckles until the man stopped moving.

"Rick!" Sharon screamed, looking over the table. She was covered in dust, her eyes wild. Nadia was clutching a kitchen knife, looking ready to stab anyone who came close.

"Are you okay?" Rick panted, standing up.

"We’re fine! The mine took out the first two! These guys came through the window!"

Rick looked around. Five dead mercenaries. Plus the ones in the jungle.

"Where is he?" Sharon asked. "The Huntsman?"

"Down the hill. I fried him. He’s..."

Rick looked out the shattered window toward the beach.

The spot where he had left The Huntsman was empty.

"He’s gone," Rick said, a cold dread settling in his stomach. "He’s gone."

[System Notification: Nemesis ’The Huntsman’ has retreated.]

[Quest Update: Survive the Night - COMPLETE.]

[The Huntsman is wounded but alive. He will return.]

Rick cursed. He had won the battle, but the war was far from over.

"We have to leave," Rick said. "Now. This island is burned. Silas knows where we are."

"Where do we go?" Nadia asked, her voice trembling. "If they can find us here..."

Rick looked at his System screen. He had money. He had power. But he needed a fortress.

"We go on the offensive," Rick said, his eyes hardening. "We’re done running. Silas Warner wants a war? I’m going to bring him one."

He looked at Sharon. "Get the bags. Grab the guns. We’re taking the boat."

He looked at Nadia. "Do you know where Silas lives?"

Nadia nodded slowly. "The Alps. The Chateau. It’s a fortress."

"Good," Rick said, cracking his electrified knuckles. "I’ve always wanted to go skiing."

He walked to the wall safe, punched in the code, and pulled out stacks of cash and passports.

The paradise was over. The hunt was on.

But this time, Rick wasn’t the prey.

** ** ** ** ** **