The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga)

The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga)

Jeremy Robinson

Language: English

Pages: 280

ISBN: 0984042334

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


The Antarktos Saga is now complete! Pick up all 5 books together and enjoy this epic series front to back without pause. The books, in order, are:
The Last Hunter - Descent
The Last Hunter - Pursuit
The Last Hunter - Ascent
The Last Hunter - Lament
The Last Hunter - Onslaught
And as a bonus, pick up Antarktos Rising, the novel that inspired this series, parallels Ascent and tells the story of Mira and Merrill. 
DESCRIPTION:

I no longer exist. My kidnapping, breaking and corruption at the hands of the half-human, half-demon Nephilim began the journey to nothingness. I had hoped to one day rejoin my loved ones in the outside world, but before I realized it, twenty years had passed. Time is a distance I cannot traverse. If there is any memory of me, it is distant. Worse, the spirit of Nephil, Lord of the Nephilim, used my connection with the continent to decimate the surface world. I've done horrible things in the past, but I'm now responsible for the deaths of billions. Billions. God...

And so I have removed myself from the physical world, and Nephil's reach, to live out eternity in Tartarus, a place of endless torture where the burden I carry crushes my soul, driving me to madness. I am weak and cold. My abilities are gone. And I am not alone in this hell. There are things here more horrible than I could have imagined.

But as much as I think I deserve this fate, I'm driven to find a way to escape. To exist again. To return to my new family--Em and Luca. To set things right. I am Solomon Ull Vincent--The Last Hunter--and I will exist again.

*The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga) parallels the events in Antarktos Rising, an adult thriller also by Robinson, upon which the Antarktos Saga is based. Read them together for the full experience. The final two books in the Antarktos Saga will complete both storylines as they merge.

PRAISE FOR JEREMY ROBINSON

"Rocket-boosted action, brilliant speculation, and the recreation of a horror out of the mythologic past, all seamlessly blend into a rollercoaster ride of suspense and adventure." -- James Rollins, New York Times bestselling author of JAKE RANSOM AND THE SKULL KING'S SHADOW

"With THRESHOLD Jeremy Robinson goes pedal to the metal into very dark territory. Fast-paced, action-packed and wonderfully creepy! Highly recommended!" --Jonathan Maberry, NY Times bestselling author of ROT & RUIN

"Jeremy Robinson is the next James Rollins" -- Chris Kuzneski, NY Times bestselling author of THE SECRET CROWN

"If you like thrillers original, unpredictable and chock-full of action, you are going to love Jeremy Robinson..."-- Stephen Coonts, NY Times bestselling author of DEEP BLACK: ARCTIC GOLD

"How do you find an original story idea in the crowded action-thriller genre? Two words: Jeremy Robinson." -- Scott Sigler, NY Times Bestselling author of ANCESTOR

"There's nothing timid about Robinson as he drops his readers off the cliff without a parachute and somehow manages to catch us an inch or two from doom." -- Jeff Long, New York Times bestselling author of THE DESCENT

"Greek myth and biotechnology collide in Robinson's first in a new thriller series to feature the Chess Team... Robinson will have readers turning the pages..." -- Publisher's Weekly

"Jeremy Robinson's THRESHOLD is one hell of a thriller, wildly imaginative and diabolical, which combines ancient legends and modern science into a non-stop action ride that will keep you turning the pages until the wee hours. Relentlessly gripping from start to finish, don't turn your back on this book!" -- Douglas Preston, NY Times bestselling author of IMPACT and BLASPHEMY

"Jeremy Robinson is an original and exciting voice." -- Steve Berry, NY Times bestselling author of THE EMPEROR'S TOMB

The Way of the Samurai (Geronimo Stilton, Book 49)

Finding Jim

Judy Moody and the Poop Picnic (Judy Moody)

The Prisoner of Cell 25 (Michael Vey, Book 1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

to my feet. A smaller centipede specimen is flung from the mass and collides with my back. I nearly fall over, but manage to stay on my feet. I keep moving, even as the three-foot long creature stabs its mandibles into my forearm. I try to shake it off, but its segmented body coils around my arm and constricts. It’s not trying to kill me, I realize. It’s trying to slow me down. “Fine,” I say to the centipede, “you’re coming with me.” As I veer off to the left, heading for one of the side

rustling in the leaves. The Nephilim that did this have left. And every other living thing in the jungle is avoiding the area. Normally, the smell of death would attract scavengers like turkuins, but there’s another scent in the air keeping them at bay. Nephilim blood. A lot of it. With Whipsnap in my hand, I walk into the field of dead. I try to keep my eyes off the slain men. Most of them are young, not much older than me. And their deaths were gruesome, to say the least. Dark spots of

intensity of its gleam burning his eyes. But the pain didn’t bother him. Not because it was insignificant—even after spending nearly three months above ground, the sunlight still hurt his eyes—but because the pain delighted him. Delighted Nephil. The body and spirit of Nephil that resided in his body had been meant for another. Solomon Ull Vincent. A boy. The first and only child naturally born of a human being on the continent of Antarctica. The child bonded with the land on a supernatural

“It’s like he flew away,” Em says. Kainda scoffs. “The masters cannot fly.” No one argues, though I’m no so sure. The Gigantes in Tartarus had no trouble flying. And the scorpion-like tail in the thinker lab hinted that experiments had been done using attributes of the old Nephilim. Before I have time to consider the possibilities, gunshots echo in the distance. The staccato picks up and I can hear Nephilim shouting war cries. A battle is being fought nearby. I intend to join it. I break into

time to strike. The water parted to expose the dark gray flesh of the humpback’s hide. Still Anguta waited. An early strike might connect with the beast’s tail, causing the man to be thrashed about with every pulse of its mighty fluke. As the whale’s head breached the surface, Anguta focused, waiting for the moment when the whale would exhale a spray of mist and expose its eyes. Anguta felt his heart stop when he made eye contact with the whale, but there was no exhalation from its blowhole to

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