The Divine Hunter

Roy swung his blade through the air, deflecting an incoming bolt. Four Nilfgaardian soldiers came charging at Roy, their blades and armor gleaming. But Roy paid them no heed. He leapt into the air and ran across the walls of the mountains, never going into the fray.

A few bolts landed behind him. They entered the walls, and debris fell, but Roy was unharmed. Roy kept running across the walls. He touched the talisman hanging over his chest, his eyes on the battlefield.

The armies were like two fierce beasts engaged in a great battle for the control of this valley. Every clash brought with it untold death and blood.

***

The war came earlier than he expected. Six months earlier. Why? Because I meddled and told the rulers of Cintra about what was to come? Great, now this just threw a wrench in our plans.

Geralt was making his way to Cintra. The city was still standing, and Ciri was there as well. He needed to pick her up. Roy took the protective talisman Coral made for him and hurried into the battlefield with Jerome. They split up to cover more ground.

***

Roy eventually slid down from the walls and stepped onto the blood-drenched grass. And he heaved a sigh. Then a few pairs of bloodshot eyes fixed their gazes on him.

A few Cintran and Nilfgaardian soldiers noticed this uninvited guest. He wore a grey cloak, and his head was hidden under a hood. He also had a mask covering the rest of his face. All they saw were a pair of wild eyes. This intruder was weirdly dressed and hid well. If they hadn't taken notice of him, they'd have subconsciously ignored him.

A Nilfgaardian soldier charged straight at him, holding his sword up high.

He tried to swing his blade down, and Roy cocked his eyebrow. This time, however, he didn't run away. Instead, he took three steps forward and spun around to evade the attack. A blinding white flash arced through the air. Before the soldiers realized what had happened, the Nilfgaardian soldier fell backward, the eyes staring through the slit of his helm, devoid of any emotion.

***

Roy charged toward the second soldier. He thrust Gwyhyr ahead, and the soldier tried to block it with his sword, but all he hit was air. Then a gash appeared on his neck. The third soldier swung his blade down at Roy's shoulder, but the witcher kicked him in the chest. He flew backward and crashed into his incoming comrades. Then he bounced back and fell, blood covering his cold, hard armor.

Before the witcher could catch his breath, five more soldiers charged towards him, swinging their weapons down on him. Roy pirouetted like a top, leaping around the battlefield. The soldiers' weapons were enough to break Roy's Quen, and a few patches of blood drenched his cloak, but Roy was unfazed.

Gwyhyr gleamed like a diamond as it arced through the air, taking a life with it every time it hit a soldier. Two Nilfgaardian soldiers backed off, covering the hideous wound on their bodies. They fell forward in the end, their heads hanging low, and blood drenched their faces.

In the next moment, the remaining soldiers found their necks and chins stabbed through with a blade. They fell in their own pools of blood, curling up like dogs. Blood spurted from their arteries, splattering Roy's legs.

'(8) Nilfgaardian soldiers killed. EXP +160. Level 10 Witcher (1400/8500).'

Roy flicked off the blood and flesh hanging on his blade, and he bent over to catch his breath. These soldiers were leagues apart from regular swordsmen. They moved like beasts, only attacking and never defending. The urge to kill was the only thing spurring them on, and all of them were armored. Despite Roy's superior stats, he still found defeating them a challenge.

The Cintran soldiers finally realized Roy was their ally. And a strong one at that. The outstanding battle boosted their morale, and they charged at their enemies, roaring like lions.

Some Nilfgaardian knights noticed the little aberration happening here, and they came running.

Roy switched his sword out for Gabriel and fired a shot at a knight in the vanguard. The bolt pierced through his helm and skull easily, its momentum sending the knight flying back into his troops, bringing a few knights off their horses on the way.

The horse that lost its rider galloped out of the battlefield, but another knight had taken the place of his fallen comrade. Like the other knights, this one was fully armored, and so was his horse. Roy didn’t back off, despite facing a living and moving fortress of steel.

He leapt into the air and swung his blade down with a force strong enough to break anything. All the runes on his sword were blown out, and a crimson energy slash measuring nearly seven feet sliced through the air.

A spear broke, and a line of red extended from the head of the knight to his horse. Like a slab of butter cut open by a hot knife, the knight and his horse were split into two, their blood and innards spilling onto the ground.

Roy darted through the corpse of this knight and stepped on it, his gaze as cold and sharp as the winter winds. His attack didn't just kill this knight. The two knights behind him were cut in half as well before the energy attack disappeared into the air.

The soldiers who witnessed this gory scene froze for a moment, then their counterattack came as fierce as the waves of a raging sea.

Some decurions led their soldiers over to the witcher, abandoning their original path. Bolts rained down on Roy before the decurions came, but all of their attacks missed.

Roy fired a shot and disappeared from his spot. He blinked to a boulder beside the cliff a hundred yards away from those soldiers. Nobody noticed this remote area, and nobody saw Roy drenched in sweat. He gritted his teeth and pulled the bolts out of his thigh and shoulder. Shit. Poison arrows.

Only cutting the shaft off would hinder his movements, but pulling it out altogether took away chunks of his flesh, revealing a big wound underneath. Roy gritted his teeth and finished a bottle of Swallow. Black veins popped on his forehead and temples, a cool sensation coursing through his wounds. The four stars that just lit up on Gwyhyr's fuller dimmed, and a healing light covered Roy's wounds, keeping the pain down.

The witcher hastily bandaged his wound and took Petri's Philter, Thunderbolt, and Ekhidna decoction. The veins on his face bulged, and now resembled black vines. He crouched on the boulder, staring at the battlefield underneath.

The battle between Cintra and Nilfgaard was reaching its breaking point. The line extended about five hundred meters long, and the valley was a hellscape filled with corpses and the howling injured. Blood drenched the once-verdant plains crimson, painting this idyllic scene a hellish red.

Nilfgaard's troops showed no signs of weakening, but Erland was still nowhere to be found. "Very well, Cintra. That’s all I can do for you."

***

Roy moved even more cautiously than ever, only searching for his quarry at the edges of the battlefield. Anytime Nilfgaardian soldiers noticed him, he would fire off bolts at them before they could even surround him.

Gabriel's multiple power ups granted it great range and armor-piercing power. Coupling that with Massacre and Crossbow Mastery's damage increase, and Roy could pierce through any armor in a hundred-meter range.

The hand crossbow could fire bolts at a rate of 2.5 per second, making it the perfect weapon to kill. At most, Roy only had to fire twice to kill one soldier. He moved like the wind, always managing to escape before he was surrounded. His presence was trouble for the flank of the Nilfgaardian troops.

Eventually, Roy had gone through one-tenth of his bolts, and more than half of his mana was gone. In return, he managed to kill fifty Nilfgaardian soldiers. But then, someone finally caught him.

A fireball flew through the air and exploded behind the witcher. Heliotrop was destroyed in mere moments, the impact pushing Roy forward, and he fell headfirst into the ground.

A purple arc of electricity came rushing at him, and Roy rolled away in a hurry. He managed to dodge the bolt of electricity, but then his body started feeling heavy, like he was cuffed.

Before him stood a group of Nilfgaardian soldiers and some mages cloaked in black. They were weaving complex gestures in the air, raining down spells on the witcher.

The fireballs exploded around the witcher, stirring up the corpses, soil, blood, and dust, covering the witcher.

***

Fringilla Vigo stood in the center of these mages, staring at the dust cloud worriedly. She was ready to hurl another electric bolt should their enemy show up once more. Her cloak kept her perfect curves covered.

The sorceress was breathing heavily. Shouts from the battlefield and the stench of blood assailed her, tormenting her. She despised war. It was ugly, sinful, and cruel. But she couldn't retreat. Emhyr forced all of Nilfgaard's mages to make a choice, to either serve the country, or languish in prison.

Fringilla served Toussaint, and she had no choice but to submit. Thus, she was sent to the front lines, acting as nothing but a butcher. An executioner. It was the job she despised the most, and yet she could afford no mercy, for she might have to pay with her life.

Ever since they left Amell, she and her fellow mages were unstoppable. Until moments ago. Until that cloaked phantom killed dozens of Nilfgaardian soldiers. He moved at inhuman speeds. The mages had kept an eye on him for a while, and finally, they had their chance to attack.

They hurled electric bolts, gales, and hail at the phantom, and the soldiers swung their blades down on him. All the mana destroyed that phantom, but not a drop of blood was spilled. Instead, that person disappeared into thin air like he was a bubble.

That was an illusion? A chill ran down the mages' spines, but before they could process the sight, another bolt whizzed through the air and claimed another life. This time, the soldier's eye burst with a spurt of blood.

An unkempt man in tattered clothes stood atop the dead man's body and hunkered down. His mask was torn apart, revealing a toothy grin underneath, and his eyes were glinting with ice-cold indifference.

With a wave of his hand, a glass canister with colorful gas within it exploded in the army's formation. So strong was the impact that even the ground rumbled. Flames licked the air, and the explosion engulfed half the troops.

Howls tore through the air, and a dozen men on fire charged out of the flames. They rolled around in agony, and some soldiers put them out of their misery right away.

The explosion didn't faze Fringilla that much. She wobbled for a moment and regained her balance. Just like her, the other mages' magical shields protected them from the flames and explosion.

Even though the dust hadn't settled just yet, the mages were already instinctively recreating their magical shields, but another glass canister shattered near them. This time, it held white smoke within. The dimeritium powder snuck into the couple of mages closest to it, locking up their mana.

Both mages had looks of horror on their faces, and one of them tried to touch his ring, but a silhouette appeared behind them out of nowhere. The mage cast a ring of fire to push Roy away, but that didn't stop Roy from swinging his blade down on his head, even though he was still suspended in the air.

The energy slash flew into the distance, but not before cutting the mages in two. Their innards spilled onto the ground, their tattered hood revealing faces as pale as ghosts.

Roy knelt on one knee, sweat and blood trickling down his chin. He was exhausted, and his mind was in turmoil. In that single moment, another pair of mages launched their attacks.

One shoved an air bullet at Roy, slamming him up into the air, while the other mage cast a pillar of flames. It rushed through the air, but Roy managed to pull the trigger right before he was hit, and he blinked away from the flames.

The bolt took him to the nearest mage. It passed through her magical shield, and the stun effect made her wobble for a moment. A gust of wind blew her hood off, revealing a beautiful blonde woman.

The witcher held his blade against her. He saw the plea and fear in her eyes, but Roy paid it no heed.

Everything around the sorceress spun. The last thing she saw before she died was a headless corpse with blood spurting from the wound on its neck.

***

The remaining mages tried to attack Roy again. His body felt like lead, but he dragged himself and rolled around. Something exploded around him, and a surge of searing pain shot up his right shoulder. Crossbow bolt.

The sound of wind whirred around him as five soldiers brought their blades down on him, but their attacks were cut short. Bloody tentacles burst forth from the pool of blood beneath Roy and leapt out at the soldiers.

They felt their souls being dragged down to the deepest depths of the coldest hell, and a hallucination was weaved right before them. To their horror, they saw the enemies they cut down turn into wraiths, coming at them, screeching and screaming.

The soldiers felt their heart and flesh getting devoured, and they let go of their weapons. Fear had taken over their souls, and it made them quake.

That happened in the span of less than one moment. Roy got up and pulled a trigger again. The air rippled, and Roy swung his blade the moment he reappeared, slicing off the head of another mage. Two left.

The soldiers were quickly closing in, returning to protect their mages. I still have a chance.

Thunder boomed, and the mage sent another magical spell at him. The ground where Roy stood broke into little pieces, forming a big hole underneath. The witcher blinked to the mage. He was pushed away by a halo, but it was too late. Roy's octopus was already constricting him. The witcher swung his blade down and cut off the mage's head easily. None could escape this combination.

Last. One.

Fringilla was filled with shock and fear, her face as pale as a tombstone. If anyone had told her someone had the power to destroy six heavily guarded mages all by themselves before this, she would have called them mad, but now she just saw the impossible happen. And his eyes… Those aren't human eyes. He doesn't even move like a human. I've never even seen teleportation powers like that. And his crossbow bolts have enough power to send a fully armored soldier flying! No way that's a human.

She grabbed the talisman around her neck and muttered, "He's a demon." She didn't do anything. What could she do in the face of an invincible demon? Make peace with the gods, I think.

Roy charged straight ahead and swung his blade down, but all he cut was air. It was still a few inches away from her head. The witcher shook his head in disbelief, and he slowed down for a fraction of a second.

A crossbow bolt pierced through his shoulder, and Fringilla sent him flying with a fireball, charring his chest. A Nilfgaardian soldier swung his blade down at Roy's neck.

All seemed lost for Roy, but the air rippled all of a sudden. The knight pulled on the reins of his horse, and the animal raised its front legs, hissing loudly. The soldiers and Fringilla exchanged looks of confusion. They couldn't believe the man who killed dozens of soldiers and five mages all by himself had just disappeared into thin air, and this time, he didn't even pull his trigger.

***

The witcher reappeared a hundred yards away, leaning on the walls of Marnadal's cliff. Not an ounce of energy was left in him. He lay on a jutting boulder, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

Gryphon came and licked its master's bloodied cheeks. Roy's HP and Mana were less than ten percent of their max value, and he was riddled with more than twenty wounds. Burns, electric attacks, cuts, slashes, and more. His armor and cloak had been destroyed in battle.

"That was close." Roy shuddered. This was the first time he sustained so many injuries. And just the fringes of the battlefield. If I charged straight into the fray, the cavalry would have killed me.

"Activate! Devour!"

Roy's healing skills took effect right away, replenishing his HP to ninety percent and Mana to sixty percent. The minor wounds formed scabs, while the heavier wounds were reduced to nothing but minor gashes.

Roy closed his eyes to feel the power he just gained. Five mages and a dozen soldiers. His EXP was now 3800/8500. The young witcher jumped back up to move his limbs and joints around. His eyes flared with fighting spirit. "That's as much as I can do for you, Calanthe, Eist, Ciri."

If the mages hadn't come after him, Roy wouldn't have tried to kill them. "Wonder how Jerome's doing." He stared at the battlefield, concern filling his eyes. And then he turned on the messaging crystal in his hand.

***

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