The Divine Hunter

Chapter 180: Beautiful World

“Who are you? Where did you come from? And where are you heading?” a bald, pudgy man roared at the witchers. He stood with his legs spread, and he had a bow and a quiver filled with arrows.

“We come from Bodrog,” Geralt lied as he stepped forward. He looked at the soldiers and realized that none of them knew that they were witchers. “We’re heading for Brugge. What seems to be the situation?”

Roy quietly pulled Ciri behind him.

“We are the king’s soldiers.” A stern man who looked like the troop’s leader stepped forth. He noticed the twin swords Geralt was carrying, and his attitude took a change for the better. “An unexpected situation has happened here. We have to perform a check on everyone who passes this place.” He looked behind him.

“Would you take a look, sirs?” the man asked, and he told the soldiers to make way.

Roy and Geralt looked at each other, then they followed the man. Roy picked Ciri up and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Be a good girl now and close your eyes.”

The girl did as he said and leaned against his shoulder, though Roy could sense that she was anxious from her shallow breathing.

A big tree had fallen not far from where they were. A horse carriage covered in oilcloth stood before it, unable to progress. A few horses were lying on the ground, entangled with ropes. There were arrows embedded in them, and they were wincing in pain.

One of the horses was still barely alive. It stared ahead, its breathing heaving, and it flailed its legs. Blood drenched the ground around, and human bodies were strewn across the place. Some were lying on the carriage, while some were crushed under the wheels.

None survived.

“A whole carriage was attacked?” Geralt asked.

A soldier with triangle eyes rubbed his hands on a dagger with blood, and he looked at the witchers and the child. “It was an ambush,” he said, his voice rough. “Brokilon’s dryads ambushed the merchants and killed all of them. We’re investigating.”

“The dryads did this?”

“See for yourself.” The soldier waved his hand impatiently. “These poor merchants were attacked by a whole volley of arrows, and that was when they were on the path. Those monsters in the forest are getting crazier by the day. At this rate, they’ll leave the forest soon and start attacking our people.”

“And who might you be?” Geralt asked carefully.

“King Ervyll’s men, soldiers of Nastrog. We were here to wait for Governor Frexinet, but then we got news that he led his men into the forest. It has been three days. The governor and our guest must have been killed at this point. First them, and now the merchants?” The soldier gnashed his teeth, his eyes glinting with malice. “We will make them pay!”

“An eye for an eye!”

“We will avenge them!”

“Kill all the dryads!”

“Those damn druids aren’t coming yet, but we aren’t waiting anymore!”

The soldiers were all too happy to kill the dryads and have their vengeance.

“Brother, wait.” The leader came up to Geralt. “Who is that boy and the child he is carrying? Are they people of Brugge as well?”

“Yes. They’re my nephews,” Geralt lied to him. Ciri was in a neutral outfit. It was hard to tell that she was a girl.

“Your nephews seem healthy. Praise Melitele for her blessing. What enviable luck. Do please take your family and leave. Leave and never come back, friend. The dryads are more dangerous than you think. You can’t defeat them with only a couple of swords. Heed my warning, or the dryads will claim your life next.”

He turned around and told his men to make way for Geralt and the others. “Fare thee well.” The man waved his hand at them. When Roy walked past him, the man patted Ciri’s head, much to her horror. She huddled even closer to Roy.

“What a gorgeous child. He will grow up to be quite the ladies’ man. Oh, what are you mumbling about, child?”

“You have blood on your hands,” Ciri said, her voice trembling.

“Oh. It’s the merchant’s blood. It must have gotten on my hands when I went to check their bodies.” The man smiled, and he shrugged it off.

“But the dryads didn’t do this,” Ciri said. Roy pushed down on her, but she ignored him. “That much is obvious.”

The man’s smile disappeared. “Say that again?” he asked, his tone frighteningly chilling.

“Look at the pieces of wood lying around. This tree was chopped down by an axe. Dryads would never chop down trees. They control the growth of trees with magic, isn’t that right, Geralt?” Ciri even asked the White Wolf.

“You are right.” The man gave his men a look, and he held his weapon that was strapped around his waist. “What a smart child you are. Too—”

“Enough!” Roy, who had been ignored thus far, shouted.

“What do you mean, enough?”

“Do you think we are fools? This is clearly not the dryads’ doing.”

Geralt attacked the moment Roy exposed the soldiers’ scheme. He attacked the soldier with the triangle eyes with his sleeve. Geralt’s sleeve had nails in it, and he buried it deep in the soldier’s head.

Before the soldier even fell, Geralt unsheathed his sword and leaped to two soldiers who were standing nearby. When they realized what was happening, it was already too late. Humans moved far too slowly for witchers, and Geralt swung his sword across an arc in the air, cutting the soldiers’ necks open easily.

The soldiers held their neck, but it didn’t stop their blood from spurting out like a fountain. They tried to scream, but no sound would come out.

The other soldiers, however, took up their bows and docked their arrows. As they surrounded Geralt, he knelt on one knee and made the sign of Aard, but instead of hurling it at the archers, he directed it to the sands beneath.

A dull thud later, a small sandstorm swept past the battlefield, hiding the three of them from sight. Geralt pushed one of the dead soldiers and charged toward the archer, using the dead body as a meat shield.

“Now that’s one use of Aard.” Roy looked around him and hid Ciri in a hollow log. “Stay in there and don’t come out, Ciri.” Roy cast Quen and looked at the soldiers’ leader. He was standing not far away, and he was gaining on them.

“Ah, so you are witchers.” The man grinned evilly, and he held his sword tight. “Come then, you abominations. I shall teach you a good lesson.”

Roy wasn’t going to engage in close combat. He made another sign and sent out a burst of flame. It swept through the battlefield, and the conical flames engulfed the soldiers’ leader before he could do anything about it.

The man let out a bloodcurdling scream, and he ran around blindly. Unbeknownst to him, he charged straight at his own man, creating more problems for them.

A crossbow bolt shot through the air, and Roy spun his sword around to block it, but he was too slow. In the end, the arrow got through his defenses and shattered the Quen shield into pieces.

Roy rolled away, then a second bolt flew into the grass beside him. Roy got up and moved in a zigzag pattern, barely dodging the third bolt. It scratched the armor covering his forearm.

The archers stopped firing for a moment, and Roy looked at the shrubs. There were three crossbowmen aiming their weapons at him from thirty meters away, and they were reloading after they shot at him.

For a moment there, time itself stopped. The sound of the wind, the bugs, the noises on the battlefield, the sounds of blades clashing against each other, the sound of something slicing their enemy’s belly open… All of them, gone. The world was silent, save for the sharp, quiet sound of something humming in the air.

A ripple spread out from where Roy was standing, and the world as he knew it was sliced up into countless colorful pieces. Everything was vibrant yet blurry at the same time, as if nature itself were painting an abstract portrait.

And Roy leaped through the layers and layers of colorful veils.

The crossbowmen were shocked by Roy suddenly disappearing into thin air. They lost their target, and they turned around by reflex, but it was too late.

Roy cast Fear on them. All they saw were countless bloody tentacles wrapping themselves over them, stopping them from even moving a finger, and that was the last thing they saw.

Gwyhyr danced through the air, and it sliced the crossbowmen’s necks all open at the same time. Blood spurted from the wound, and they tried to stop it, to no avail. They gurgled as they fell, and their limbs spasmed. Their eyes, until the very end, were filled with confusion. They wondered how Roy approached them so quickly, and how he managed to freeze them in place. Alas, those were questions that would never be answered.

‘Komas, Raya, and Trillu killed. EXP +20*3. Level 6 Witcher (570/3500).’

***

Their best swordsmen were still fighting Geralt, while they would go around him and catch Geralt’s ‘nephew.’

It did not take long for them to reach the log where Ciri was hidden. The soldiers charged toward it and one stretched his hand into the hollowed center. Even through the cracks, he could see the child who was hiding fearfully within the log.

Suddenly, the soldier in the center was pulled back. When he turned around, a sword pierced through the only crack in his shield and buried itself in his chin. The blade then drove itself higher, piercing the soldier’s brain, and he spurted blood from the top of his head.

The soldier fell before he could even gasp.

The remaining soldiers snapped out of it, but not before that phantom-like attacker darted to the left and stabbed another soldier in the eye. When he pulled the sword out, his blade was covered in blood, while the soldier covered his eye and spasmed on the ground.

The witcher went into the ox stance. He placed one foot before the other and bowed his upper body a little, his sword held horizontally against his cheek. The witcher looked like a bow that was about to launch an arrow, and he aimed his blade at the third soldier.

The third soldier put the girl aside for the moment. He pulled his mace out and swung it at the witcher. His greaves and weapon glinted coldly under the sun, and if the hit were to connect, it would smash the witcher’s skull.

But his chainmail bogged him down, and his attacks slowed. To the witcher, the soldier was no faster than a snail.

The soldier swung his mace from the right, but Roy did not take a step back. If he did, the soldier could chase after him, and he would not grant that opening. Instead, he took a step to the front left and held the mace down. Gwyhyr was pointing at the soldier, and Roy was already in the plough position. Thanks to the mace’s momentum, it drove the sword right up into the soldier’s neck, cutting his artery open easily.

The soldier gurgled, and a moment later, he drew his last breath.

‘Soldiers killed. EXP +20*3. Level 6 Witcher (630/3500).’

***

***

Geralt’s battle was coming to an end, as well. There was only one enemy left. He thrusted his sword at Geralt’s neck, but the White Wolf spun and pushed his enemy away. He swung his sword and sliced his enemy’s face open. The guy staggered back and covered his face, and Geralt charged toward him. The White Wolf put his weight on his left leg and cut his enemy’s artery open.

The man shivered before falling forward into the grass. “A talented bounty hunter. What a waste.” Geralt heaved a long sigh. His forehead was drenched with beads of sweat. The battle only took two to three minutes, but he had to deal with a lot of enemies, and it took a lot more out of him compared to Roy.

“Not bad, Viper.” Geralt took a piece of cloth from one of the dead men and wiped his blade off. He looked at the dead crossbowmen lying not far away from them. “If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were a veteran.”

Roy patted Ciri’s back and praised, “You did a lot better than me, Geralt.” Roy had a moment earlier to appreciate Geralt’s fighting style, and it was individualistic. He was a graceful swordsman who swung his sword around as if he were dancing. It was fast, powerful, and explosive.

Geralt suddenly had a concerned look on his face. He turned around and looked at a rider who was on the back of a grey horse coming from afar.

“Who is that?” Roy unsheathed his blade.

“Do you remember what these soldiers said? They were waiting for someone to lead them into the forest so they could have their revenge.”

Roy had a guess. “He’s the druid?”

“Sheathe your sword, Roy. He’s an old friend.”

***

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