The Divine Hunter

Chapter 553: In The Forest

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

The trees rustled as they were buffeted by the wind. The scent of smoke and heat slowly seeped into the air, and lights of flames dotted the landscape. The trees, leaves, vines, and all greenery in the woods were burning, and bodies were strewn all across the woods’ clearing. Bodies of elves in cheap clothes and squirrel tails hanging around their waists. Bodies of human mercenaries clad in grimy armor.

Some had their legs crushed by gigantic bear traps, their flesh torn to shreds, their bones exposed to the elements. They fell to the ground, holding their mangled legs in agony.

Some were slammed by logs that swung out of nowhere, and they fell, their innards crushed. Their chests caved in, and they coughed up blood.

Some had their feet grabbed by hidden ropes, and they dangled with their head upside down. Some were swallowed by the holes in the ground and skewered by the lethal stakes buried underneath.

***

Even though they’d lost a few fighters before they even saw the enemy, the ragtag group made out of Scoia’tael members and mercenaries pushed on relentlessly.

“Craven rats.” Schirru broke into a small run, his ponytail swinging like a rotten branch. He rasped, “Once we get the witchers, I’ll torture them myself. They must pay for the murders they committed.”

As if on cue, the elves behind him were riled up, their faces contorted with rage.

An eyebrowless, ghoulishly skeletal man sneered. “Let me do it. I know how to hit them the hardest. It’ll be an unforgettable experience for them. You can hear them scream. Free of charge, of course.” The man held the witcher medallions hanging before his neck tightly. “You’ll see how wonderful their screams are.

Behind them was an elf with an abnormally high nose bridge. He growled quietly, “Something’s there! Look out!”

They were met with a greenhouse, and a layer of fog was draped around it. Refreshing scent of the plants invigorated the elves of Dol Blathanna. Captivated, they took a closer look and saw more than forty types of plants living within the greenhouse. Celandine, crow’s eye, sage, and plants they’d never seen before were housed here, thriving and growing. Not even the Blue Mountains had a greenhouse with this kind of diversity.

The fog surrounding the greenhouse seemed to have a life of its own. It swirled and thickened, blocking the invaders’ line of sight, and then two burly beings appeared from within the fog. They charged ahead at terrifying speeds, the ground beneath shaking with every step the beings took. Leaves fell like rain, and sounds of cracking branches echoed from the ferns.

The invaders stood back to back, pulling their bowstrings and whipping their weapons out.

“What in blazes is that?” Schirru’s eyes went wide, and he took a deep breath. Leo saw the creatures as well, and his beard shivered, his eyes flaring with excitement.

“Look out!”

The ground rumbled, and finally, the invaders got a good look at the creatures. They resembled a pair of oak trees with rough bark and numerous burls, but unlike oaks, which were usually docile and unmoving, these creatures were running around like lumbering elephants, swinging their arms wildly. Despite their size, they were fast, and in mere moments, they crashed into the invaders’ assault squad.

Everyone turned the color of clouds.

“Attack!” Schirru bellowed.

Even without his orders, the invaders were already letting their arrows loose, the projectiles whizzing through the air. They fell upon the creatures, but they swung their arms and swatted ninety-nine out of a hundred arrows away. The remaining arrows couldn’t even puncture the creatures’ bark deeply. All they did was draw a few drops of milky-white blood, but the creatures charged ahead, unfazed by the pain.

They swung their arms and captured two of the invaders like cockerels hunting for centipedes and worms. The unlucky invaders found themselves wrapped by branches and held in the air. They wriggled and shimmied like snakes trying to escape their captors, and their screams haunted the hearts of their comrades.

That was not enough to scare the invaders, however. They swung their blades away at the treants like they were gardeners trying to trim their yard’s bushes. A moment later, the treants were already covered in bruises and wounds.

Still, they were stronger than any oak, and these invaders had no experience dealing with these creatures before. Despite their efforts, they couldn’t even cut off the entirety of the treants’ arms.

While they were attacking, the treants had already wrapped up a few more of the invaders, and in mere moments, there was already a row of soldiers hanging from their branches. Like boa constrictors, the branches were tightening their chokehold.

Panicked, the invaders flailed their legs, but it was to no avail. Eventually, their eyes bulged, their tongues lolled, and their beards were drenched with their blood and vomit as they were suffocated to their deaths.

“Interesting!” Within the howls came the excited shout of a certain ghoulish bounty hunter. He laughed and spat at his runic sword. “Come, tree. Let us dance!”

He pounced at the treant on the left, swift as a hare and quiet as a cat.

The treant was suffocating a yellow-haired elf to his death, and it only spared one branch to fend this invader off.

Leo swung his blade down at the branch, and the clash sounded as if two pieces of metal were slammed together. Most metals couldn’t do anything to the branches, but Leo’s sword was different, and he had strength and speed that far surpassed any regular man. He sliced the monster’s arm with ease, and the broken arm wriggled like a snake for a moment, then it went still.

The bounty hunter closed in on the treant, and a dozen branches lashed out at him. Like a spinning top, the bounty hunter spun around. The whirlwind of death sliced off the branches, and they fell like corpses.

Like a billy goat leaping across steep cliffs, he jumped around the battlefield, positioning and repositioning himself to avoid every single attack the treant threw at him. He did not suffer a single injury.

The other invaders saw nothing but a curtain of shimmering metal dancing around the treant, gouging its skin and drawing blood.

A few minutes later, milky-white blood oozed from the burl that looked like the treant’s eye, and Leo pulled his blade out. The treant shivered for a moment, and it went still. It stood like a dead oak tree.

“That was fun!” Leo spun his blade and went to the other treant.

***

Evelyn was standing in the greenhouse, dressed in a green dress made of tree bark, her hair tumbling down her shoulders, a mistletoe garland crowned atop her head. A wooden staff was strapped to her back, swaying with every step she took. Green light strobed upon her as she put out the fires erupting across the woods.

She then pulled back her magic and frowned. The guardian has returned to nature? A mortal killed it?

Evelyn found this unbelievable. A storm raged in her eyes, her fury icy enough to freeze the land. Green light burst forth from the woods like waves, and the ground rumbled, the air shaken with deafening roars.

***

Beasts of every shape and size charged from their hiding spots, their fangs bared, their eyes filled with cold-blooded murder. The invaders found themselves surrounded by beasts of all manners. Weasels, rats, vipers, lynxes, and even boars. They came by droves and charged at the invaders, ripping them into shreds.

The invaders were shaken to the core. Before they could stage a counterattack, the beasts had already attacked them, and the air was filled with a cacophony of roars and swinging weapons.

“They have a druid on their side! Damn it all!” Schirru roared and sliced an attacking weasel in half.

The invaders were scrambling to defend themselves. This was but the first bout of onslaught, and already there were people killed by the boards, but the smaller critters were the real trouble. The rats and vipers slithered and scurried everywhere, attacking the invaders where they least expected it. Spiders and lizards jumped down from the trees, sliding into the invaders’ clothes and chomped away at their soft spots.

A burly invader’s eyes bulged, and he howled in pain, holding his crotch. He jumped around in pain, his cheeks purple. And then he rolled on the ground, his pants slowly turning crimson. The sight of the man sent chills down his comrades’ spines.

***

A freckled elf pierced a rabid dog’s throat, but before he could do anything else, a lynx leapt through the air and sliced the elf’s throat open, its claws glinting coldly.

The elf’s windpipe was slashed in two, and he fell with a thud. A large group of mice held him up and scurried off deep into the woods like they were carrying a broken siege weapon.

The boars and wolves were working together, whittling down the number of enemies.

And to make things worse, a terrible creature that was the amalgamation of a lion and eagle dove from the skies, a great air current lashing out at the invaders. It caught an invader between its talons and took him high up into the air.

Moments later, crimson rain fell upon the battlefield, and a mangled corpse slammed into the ground.

“They have a griffin!”

“The witchers have a griffin!”

A muscular invader with a narrow forehead shouted in terror, and he fired at the skies, but all his arrows either missed or were deflected by the griffin’s wings.

Moments later, the griffin flew back down and took with it another invader, sentencing him to his death.

***

Roars and cries and screams and the swinging of metal filled the air of the woods. The invaders were fending off the beasts, but every time the invaders killed a beast, three more would take its place. Eventually, the green of the woods was drenched with the blood of the dead.

***

“Damn these beasts! Get the firebombs! We’ll burn them to cinders!” Schirru roared.

The invaders quickly took the oil jars from their utility belts and pelted them at the incoming beasts. A great pillar of flames charged into the skies, illuminating the snarling invaders.

The beasts’ onslaught was stopped, cut off by the flames. The air crackled and sizzled, the aroma of burning flesh undulating across the battlefield. Burning beasts ran and pranced around, bumping into their companions, spreading the fire further.

The beasts’ attack slowed, and Leo pulled his blade out of the second treant’s eye, killing it. He swung away at an incoming boar, slicing it in half. Blood drenched his face, and a sneer twisted his lips. “Who shall be my next partner, I wonder?”

A round glass container shattered into shards, and the explosion sent more than five invaders flying away, burning like a pyre. Sparks flew in every direction, and the flames spread faster than the screams of the invaders could.

Behind the army of beasts stood a mousey, balding man in grimy robes. He held up a special firebomb, a smirk curling his lips, and he blinked, the dark circles under his eyes sagging.

“Regular firebombs are bland.” Kalkstein invited sinisterly, “Why don’t you have a taste of my custom bomb? It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Another bomb was set off, but this time, a cloud of freezing vapor lashed out at the invaders, turning the closest pair of invaders into icy sculptures. On the other side of the beast army was a woman in long black robes, and a ball of ice swirled within her palms. Her robes billowed despite the lack of winds, and they clung tightly to her perfect curves.

Sunlight shone upon her beautiful visage, her crimson hair billowing in the air, but her eyes were cold as ice. She was like a goddess holding the power of the whole winter in her hands.

***

“They have a druid, a griffin, and two sorcerers guarding this place? Damn the witchers! We’re in deep!” Schirru snarled, fear flickering in his eyes.

The invaders were slammed into disarray. Schirru tried to fire at the sorcerer, but he quickly jerked away and behind a tree and cackled maniacally as an exploding dimeritium bomb missed him. At the same time, the sorceress disappeared into thin air.

The sorcerers flickered in and out of the battlefield, shielding themselves behind trees and escaping with their spells whenever they had to. The invaders would find themselves bombarded by their spells from time to time.

“That ain’t the only trouble here.” Leo dragged his blade across the ground and walked past the group of invaders, making his way to the other side of the battlefield.

Within the fog and fire stood two silhouettes, and in their hands were swords. One was burly and equipped with a pair of spiked spaulders. The medallion of a wolf’s head hung around his neck, and a scar spanned the right side of his face. His gaze was filled with ice-cold fury, his face deadpan.

The witcher held his sword high above his shoulder, slowly closing in on Leo, preparing to charge into battle.

The other witcher had a pair of sunglasses hanging from his nose. He was gaunt, and he donned Cat School’s light armor. Hanging around his neck was the medallion of a cat’s head. His steps were light and fast, and his razor-thin blade swung around. The look in his eyes was as cold as his companion’s.

They walked together, taking big strides toward the crowd, and they met the gaze of Leo, the bounty hunter with dead eyes, and sparks flew.

***

Adrenaline pumped through Leo’s veins, and he shivered uncontrollably. This would be his first time facing off two witchers at once. It would prove to be his deadliest battle to date, but it would also be the peak of his career.

“Come, witchers! Swing your blade. Dance with me! This is a party for three!” Leo roared at his adversaries and beckoned at them, his eyes glinting darkly. “Two on one. This shall be a never-before-seen performance, and heads will roll. Not mine, though. Before you draw your last breath, I shall grant you the last ever joy you’ll taste.”

Leo drew a line across the ground as he held his blade up. He thrust his left hand forward and charged toward the witcher, fast as a phantom. The leaves behind him flew high into the air. “The tune begins!”

Dimeritium bombs were tossed, and the witchers found their mana restricted. Felix and Eskel could’ve dodged that, but out of their pride as swordsmen, they took the hit head on. This would be a duel with swords.

The shrill shriek of metal clashing ripped the air as the witchers flanked the human arrogant enough to take them on at once.

Leo didn’t retreat, however. He leapt ahead and jumped through the crack between the witchers’ attack. The blade cut open his armor, but in exchange, he managed to land behind his adversaries.

The bounty hunter whirled and lashed out twice, his blade flashing like comets streaking through the skies.

The first attack cut Felix’s shoulder open, and the second hit Eskel’s left rib.

Blood spurted, and the witchers grunted, but they did not stop or slow down. One whirled and swung his blade down at Leo’s nape, while the other crouched and thrust his blade at Leo’s chest.

Metal pierced the air, hissing like snakes. Leo rolled backward and dodged the attacks. Before the witchers could launch another attack, Leo fought back, swinging his blade again and again.

Metal clashed, and sparks flew around, creating a mini waterfall made of fire. It shone brighter than any flames dancing in the woods.

***

Schirru pierced the head of a lynx with his sword and stopped it cold in its jump, but he was drenched with sweat, with not a smile on his face.

Flames and icicles were raining down around him, his companions howling in agony. They were two hundred strong when they started this mission, but not even five minutes later, they lost more than half of that, and their numbers were still dwindling at a worrisome speed. The forest grounds were now a hellscape of blood and cadavers.

As if the sorcerers and griffins were not trouble enough, the druid decided to join the fray. She turned the invaders into cinders with her lightning bolts, sending them flying with her hurricanes only for them to fall back down and break their limbs.

The beasts seemed to be endless, and they swarmed the invaders, keeping them away from the spellcasters. Most of the arrows and dimeritium bombs couldn’t hurt them. They easily dodged those using their home advantage. The sparse arrows that hit them failed to break through their magical barriers.

Schirru felt powerless. He might end up letting Vilgefortz down. If we can’t even take down the witchers’ companions, their main team in Novigrad must be shaking the city itself.

Schirru stared at the clearing, despair welling in his eyes.

A trio of silhouettes were clashing and breaking apart at blinding speeds, sparks flying everywhere. The fighters had strength and speed that outstripped regular humans, and their swordsmanship was on a level of its own.

Schirru couldn’t even see how they moved or fought. All he could make out was the sweat and blood that poured to the ground with every clash. And the crimson sparks of blood.

***

Thirty seconds later, a shrill hum of a swinging blade brought the battle to an end. The witchers and Leo separated for one last time.

Leo was hunched over, barely holding himself up with his sword as a crutch. His armor was tattered, his body covered in horrifying wounds.

He was worn out, his snow-white beard covered in blood, and he stared at his adversaries with bloodshot eyes, but there was a satisfied smile on his lips.

A bloodied Eskel grunted and fell ahead on his knees. A gust of icy gale sprinted through the woods, and a gash opened up the witcher’s neck. Blood poured forth like a fountain, and Eskel fell to the ground, his life slowly ebbing away.

He saw flashes of his life playing in his head. Scenes of his early life as an orphan. Nightmares of the experiment. Then memories of his time with his brethren. All the dull moments, triumphs, and deadly battles ran through his head, ending with memories of the brotherhood and his time with the succubus.

My brothers, children, Pashia, I’m sorry.

Eskel’s pupils started dilating, and his consciousness was fading to black.

A wounded Felix spat out a wooden cork and gulped down a dose of Swallow, then he held up Eskel’s body, his chest drenched with his blood. The Cat could feel his companion’s breathing slow down.

“It’s your lucky day, mate.” He whipped out a prized possession he’d been holding on for quite a while now. Felix intended for Carl to use it, but he passed the Trial without a hitch. Lucky him. Since then, he’d kept this item on him.

***

Leo roared with laughter. “Ain’t had this much fun in a while. Witchers really are the best dance partners. Twice the fun if there’s two of ya. Been a real blast!” He grabbed the medallions before his neck and tore them off, then he tossed them at the witchers. “Take this. It’s your reward.”

His dark, raspy voice was drowned out by the roars of battle, but his smile remained. “I’ve been waiting for this day. Dying in battle is a lot better than dying in bed. Be it because of sickness or anything else. Better than getting feasted on by maggots.” He turned to the body of Eskel. “And now I have my wish. One for one, ain’t too bad.”

He looked at the fallen Eskel, his eyes flaring with battle spirit. “We’re resuming this battle when we meet in hell. Ain’t gonna be a lonely trip with a battle partner with me. I have… no regrets.”

The ghost of Leo’s smile was etched on his face, and death claimed him. He drew his last breath, still leaning on his blade. The gash on his lower back cut deep, his bones exposed to the elements, and blood trickled to the ground.

“You were a terrifying adversary, Leo. The strongest human I’ve ever fought.” There was praise in Felix’s eyes, then he shook his head. “But you didn’t claim Eskel’s life.” He popped the acorn into Eskel’s mouth. “You died for nothing.”

The acorn slid down Eskel’s food tract, and the power of life radiated from his body, forming a green cocoon around him. It clung tightly to Eskel’s wound, and as if the witcher had just taken the most brilliant healing potion in the world, the gash on his neck was healing up quickly. Like a snake, he shed his old skin, replacing it with a layer of silky smooth skin. Even his scar was gone.

Life swam into Eskel, and his eyes snapped open, shining like two small suns.

***

The flames burst into an explosion, and Schirru felt everything spin. He flew into the skies, heat and agony drowning his mind. Exhaustion overwhelmed him from within, and everything faded into darkness. Sounds, smell, light, everything. His life was snuffed out, and along it, his ambitions.

Before he fell to his death, Schirru saw Leo drawing his last breath, their trump card fallen to the clutches of death. We lost. A crushing defeat. Vilgefortz… One last thought crossed his mind before he died. Avenge us.