Hunter : The Last Bloodline

Hunter : The Last Bloodline.. Episode 3 Season 1 ( First Test ) NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED..!!!

Episode 3 Season 1: First Test

Jason’s chest still heaved from the encounter with the Crimson King’s scouts. The warehouse smelled of wet concrete and scorched energy, the broken windows letting in streaks of rain that mixed with the faint smoke curling from the training relics. His hands still glowed faintly blue, and he could feel the residual power thrumming beneath his skin.

“You did well for a first trial,” Marcus said calmly, his eyes scanning the shadows. “But surviving a fight is not the same as mastering your power. That… comes later.”

Jason’s voice was raw. “I barely even know what I can do. I don’t know how to fight properly, how to aim my energy… and now you’re saying I have to master it?”

Marcus’s gaze softened for a moment. “Yes. You have no choice. The Crimson King won’t wait for you to figure it out. And he will come. Soon.”

Jason swallowed hard. His father’s face flashed in his mind—the man in the photograph he had seen yesterday, strong, confident, a Hunter who had died protecting the world Jason barely understood. He felt a pang of grief, quickly replaced by determination.

Before he could say anything else, a sudden movement in the shadows caught his eye. A figure stepped forward, taller than Jason, with energy flickering faintly around her hands.

“You must be Jason,” she said, voice firm and commanding. “I’m Amara. I’ve been looking for you.”

Jason blinked. “Looking… for me? Who are you?”

“I’m a Hunter too,” she replied. “I was sent to guide you… and protect you. You’re in danger. Big danger.”

Jason stared at her, unsure if he should trust her. Marcus, however, gave a small nod. “She speaks the truth. Amara is one of the few Hunters still alive… besides you.”

Before Jason could respond, a sudden crash came from the doorway. The red-eyed stranger and two shadowy figures stepped into the warehouse, weapons drawn and energy glowing like liquid fire.

“Looks like your first real test has arrived,” Marcus muttered.

Jason’s heart hammered in his chest. “Test… I—”

Amara cut him off. “No time for questions. Fight, or die.”

Energy surged through Jason’s veins, his glowing fists sparking. He stepped forward, eyes locked on the closest shadow. He swung his fists, and a wave of blue energy burst outward, sending the figure skidding across the floor.

Amara moved beside him, her own energy forming a shimmering shield around them both. “Good,” she said. “But don’t overdo it. Control your power, or it’ll destroy everything!”

The fight escalated quickly. Jason and Amara moved in perfect unison, striking, blocking, and dodging attacks from the Crimson King’s scouts. Rainwater splashed across the floor, mixing with sparks of energy from each blow. Jason could feel himself growing stronger with each strike, his confidence rising—but so did his fear.

One scout broke through their combined attacks, lunging straight at Jason. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t anticipated the speed. But before the figure could strike, Amara slammed into Jason, pushing him out of harm’s way.

“Use your head, not just your fists!” she shouted, eyes blazing. “You have the power. Now think!”

Jason clenched his fists and focused. He let the energy flow naturally, feeling it pulse through him like a living thing. He extended his hands, and a controlled wave of blue energy shot forward, hitting the remaining scouts and knocking them unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Jason looked at Amara. “I… I did it?”

“You survived,” she said, smiling faintly. “And that’s what matters for now. But surviving isn’t enough. You need control. You need discipline. And most importantly… you need to understand why you fight.”

Jason nodded, chest heaving. His thoughts flashed to his father, to Marcus, to the shadow of the Crimson King lurking somewhere out there. I fight because I must… because if I don’t, no one else will.

The warehouse door creaked. Outside, the rain had slowed, but Jason could feel a presence, invisible yet powerful. His stomach twisted. Two glowing red eyes glared down at him from a distant rooftop.

The Crimson King was watching.

Jason’s fists glowed brighter than ever. “I’m ready,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

Amara glanced at him, her eyes serious. “Ready or not… he’s coming.”

The storm outside the warehouse seemed to hold its breath, as if the city itself sensed the battle that was coming.

And in that silence, Jason knew: this was only the beginning.

Cliffhanger: Somewhere in the shadows, a whisper echoed, barely audible over the rain:

“The last Hunter… my prey…”