Chapter 14: Who's the Real Predator?
Dante watched from the shadows as the Predator stepped, limping and snarling, toward Dutch's final kill zone.
Dante didn't just watch; he moved. He ghosted through the undergrowth, his boots making no more sound than a falling leaf. He knew the Predator was no longer relying on its glitchy thermal vision. It was using its raw, alien senses now. One snapped twig, one heavy breath, and the creature would turn its fury on him.
He stopped ten yards out. He couldn't risk getting any closer.
The Predator reached out, steadying itself against a tree trunk bristling with sharpened stakes. This was Dutch's primary snare—if triggered, it would impale the beast instantly.
But the trap was crude. The Predator wasn't a "mindless demon" anymore; it was a hunter on high alert. It hissed, its mandibles clicking as it spotted the tension in the vines. It paused, mocking the trap, and began to circle around the other side to finish Dutch.
"Goddamn it!" Dutch screamed from the dirt. "Come on! Kill me, you son of a bitch! Do it!"
The more Dutch baited it, the more cautious the creature became. It touched the sharpened stakes with a clawed finger, let out a sound like a wet snicker, and moved toward the Major's flank.
"Fuck!!" Dutch roared.
He was broken, bleeding, and out of options. The Predator was seconds away from claiming the Major's skull as its centerpiece.
But in its arrogance, the Predator stepped directly into the secondary kill zone—the deadfall.
It was the heavy hitter. Dutch didn't hesitate. He kicked the master release.
CRASH.
The massive log deadfall descended like a falling mountain. It slammed into the Predator with the force of a freight train.
"WRAAAGH!!"
The creature's shriek was a chorus of agony. The log had crushed everything from its chest down, pinning it into the muddy earth. Fluorescent green blood sprayed from its mouth, coating the ferns in a sickly neon glow.
Dutch collapsed back into the mud, a look of pure, exhausted relief on his face. "I... I got you," he wheezed. "For the boys... I finally got you..."
Crunch. Crunch.
A rhythmic thud of combat boots approached. Dante stepped out of the darkness, standing over the dying alien.
"Dante? You're... you're still alive?" Dutch gasped, his eyes widening.
Dante didn't answer. He didn't even look at Dutch. He raised his makeshift knife-spear and drove it with both hands directly into the Predator's skull.
"SCREE—!"
The creature's death rattle was a jagged, piercing sound. Even with its brain pierced, the Predator's right hand clawed frantically at its left wrist gauntlet. It was reaching for the self-destruct—the mini-nuke meant to cleanse the area of its failure.
"Not today, ugly," Dante muttered.
He slammed his heavy boot onto the creature's wrist, pinning it to the ground. Then, he began to stab.
Squelch. Crack. Squelch.
He didn't stop until the Predator's head was a literal soup of green slime and bone fragments. Only when the "Self-Destruct" sequence failed to beep did he finally stop, chest heaving.
The mechanical voice of the Space filled his mind:
[Notice: Candidate 952701 has eliminated the World Boss!]
[Primary Objective III: COMPLETED.]
[Rewards distributed:]
5,000 Credits.
Title Unlocked: [Wild Hunter].
[Warning: All Primary Objectives complete. Candidate must return to the Evolution Space within 60 minutes.]
Dante ignored the "Return" prompt. Instead, he pulled up the details for his new title.
[Title: Wild Hunter]
Equipped Effects:
1. Agility +10% (Passive).
2.Attributes: STR +2, CON +2, INT +1.
3. Active Skill: [Plunder] – Once per world, consume 1,000 Credits to steal one piece of equipment or an ability from a defeated foe.
***
"Five attribute points and a unique skill? Now that is a payout," Dante whispered. "Bind it."
The moment he confirmed, his body underwent a violent, instantaneous evolution. His muscles surged, rippling under his mud-caked skin. His vision sharpened, and a surge of raw, kinetic energy flooded his nerves. He felt faster, stronger—like he had just stepped out of a high-end combat stim.
"Incredible," he muttered, flexing his hands. "Just a couple of points and I feel like a god."
"Dante!"
Dutch was hobbling toward him, using a branch as a crutch. He clapped a hand on Dante's shoulder, a weary smile on his face. "Kid, I don't know where the hell you've been, but I'm glad you made it. Let's get out of—"
Dante looked at Dutch. The Major no longer looked like an "Unstoppable Hero." He looked like a wounded animal.
Dante's eyes turned cold. 'Let's see what a "Protagonist" is worth.'
"You're asking where I was, Major?" Dante's voice was a low, dangerous rasp.
Before Dutch could blink, Dante drove his knife-spear straight into the Major's chest.
Psh-tkt.
"Arrgh! Dante... you... what the hell...?" Dutch coughed, a fountain of dark red blood spraying from his lips. He stared at Dante with eyes full of betrayal.
[WARNING: Candidate 952701 is attempting to eliminate the World's Fated One!]
[Warning: Killing a Primary Plot Character will cause irreparable damage to the World Timeline. Proceed with caution!]
[Warning: Military extraction is inbound! Killing Major Dutch will result in immediate 'Wanted' status!]
"By the time they get here, the party's over," Dante snarled.
He twisted the spear, the jagged blade shredding Dutch's heart. He didn't just kill him; he carved a hole the size of a fist into the legend's chest.
"You... you psycho..." Dutch whispered, his eyes glazing over as his body went limp.
[Notice: The World's Fated One, Alan Dutch Schaefer, has been ELIMINATED.]
[Reward: 2,500 Credits.]
[Item Received: World Dice (x1).]
Suddenly, a faint, shimmering light began to leak from both the Predator and Dutch. Two metallic cases materialized in the mud—a Blue-grade box from the Predator and a Green-grade box from Dutch.
"Jackpot," Dante grinned, reaching for the loot.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
A hail of bullets tore through the air, slamming into Dante's back and shoulders. The impact sent him sprawling into the mud, his vision flickering red.
Dante groaned, his new Constitution stats being the only reason he wasn't dead. He forced himself to look back.
Standing ten yards away, trembling but holding an assault rifle with lethal intent, was Jerry. The invisible, pathetic IT guy.
"Long time no see, 'Bossman' Dante," Jerry whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of terror and triumph.
"Jerry...?" Dante coughed, blood staining the mud. "You... you're still alive?"
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A/n: Here it is, just as I promised! Don't forget to drop your Power Stones for the bonus chapter!!
First Goal: 200 power stones = +1 bonus chapter!
For advanced chapters (20+), check out my Patre o n: patre o n . com/Demonic_Fiction. Link's in the synopsis and my profile.