The Divine Hunter

The bat showed no signs of stopping, and neither did the griffin. Sixteen miles later, the bat landed before a cave under a hillock. It shapeshifted into a gaunt man in a blue silk shirt and took the sorceress into its abode, seemingly unaware of the witcher.

Roy made his landing and whipped out four decoctions: top-quality black blood, Thunderbolt, Petri’s Philter, and Blizzard. Down his throat the decoctions went, and all the color was drained from Roy’s face.

And then a hue of crimson washed over his face, black veins popping all over his chin, cheeks, and eventually his face. Even his breathing felt like it was scorching his throat.

First, he felt the world spin around him, and then his heart thumped like thunder as the decoctions coursed through his body.

‘Strength: 14.5 → 17.5

Dexterity: 15 → 18.’

He whipped both blades out and greased them with vampire oil, the five stars on their fullers gleaming brightly. He checked his equipment one last time before he made the leap and patted Gryphon’s head.

With reluctance, the griffin stole into the night.

He then turned his attention to the cave. If he hadn’t given Adda the idea to establish the church, Temeria’s consultants wouldn’t have had to patrol rural Vizima so frequently in their attempt to quell the growth of the church. Triss wouldn’t have had to look into this matter and run into that monster.

Now she was caught, and Roy shouldered part of the blame. He cast Quen and Heliotrop on himself once more and tiptoed into the cave like a cautious cat.

***

A long, winding passage covered in sharp rock formations awaited Roy. The small comfort he had were the colonies of glowing mushrooms growing on the walls, providing some light in the otherwise pure darkness.

Roy kept himself hidden in the shadows of the cave’s entrance, his eyes drawn to the main chamber. The cave’s master was none the wiser to his presence thanks to his cape and Signs.

***

The fire of the brazier shone upon the face of a young woman. There was fear and ridicule in her eyes. The woman was lying on a stone bed, unable to lift even a finger from the lack of strength. And yet her mind was wide awake.

This is ironic, she thought. She followed a team of knights to challenge a werewolf all for the sake of entertainment, but their assessment was grossly erroneous. Instead of a werewolf, they ran into a higher vampire. Something they could never hope to defeat.

What will happen to me now? She turned her gaze to her right with what little strength she could muster.

The monster in human skin was rummaging through all the decanters lying on top of a stone table, shaking a few of them from time to time.

What the hell are those? Triss sniffed the air, and all she smelled were the scent of ketchup, pepper, basil, cloves, nutmeg, and other spices.

And then she heard a tune. A happy but eerie tune that came from the monster. It almost sounded like a delighted chef who was preparing his dinner. Sometimes it would even sing a line.

No, that’s not Northern Realm’s common speech. Isn’t Elder Speech either. It’s… It’s Nilfgaardian! An inkling of truth struck her, and so did fear. If she were at full strength, she’d be shivering like a woman standing in a freezing land.

It’s a higher vampire from Nilfgaard? And by the gods, is it trying to turn me into some sort of dish?

What color she had left was drained from her face. She tried to summon her mana and send an emergency signal to someone, but her mana wouldn’t budge. Left with no choice, she prayed for a miracle within her heart.

“I still haven’t witnessed the truth of magic. And I haven’t found my soulmate just yet. I can’t die! Please, someone, save me!”

“No, none will come. Your fate is sealed,” a voice told her. “And the reason for your death shall be your own folly and arrogance.”

***

The vampire approached her, holding a bowl of spices in its hands.

She could see its face now. No longer did it resemble an oversized bat. It was now a regular man with short black hair, a long face, and a big nose. Its face was sickly pale, but its lips were as red as blood. Its chin was wide, and an icy smile curled its lips. It looked just like a crazed, maniacal noble.

Its eyes were crimson, and it looked at her like how a lion would look at a gazelle.

***

“Visse hael. I am Gruffyd, part of the great higher vampires of the south. I have to say, your beauty exceeds that of the night and blood itself.” It bowed at Triss and scooped some crimson spices with its fingers. Then it brushed it across her cheeks and chin.

Triss shivered uncontrollably. The greed and ferity in its eyes did not escape her.

“I believe this is the first time I’ve run into someone as gorgeous as you ever since I crossed Yargue and stepped onto this… backward land. You’re as beautiful as the nobles who live in the Golden Towers. And you possess an incredible reserve of knowledge.” The vampire leaned over and sniffed Triss’ neck, its eyes narrowing in enjoyment.

“Your blood… It’s filled with the sweet scent of magic. It’s so much more enticing than the blood of virgins. I shan’t kill you, no. No, that would be a waste of great material. You deserve better. I swear to the underworld, every part of your body will be used to their utmost potential.”

The vampire licked its lips, and what came out of its lips next terrified Triss. “Not even an inch of your flesh or drop of your blood will go to waste.”

Triss started blinking furiously, and she made muffled sounds of fear.

But the vampire only drew one nail across her neck, drawing blood. “All your emotions… All your pain and fear…” It sucked on that particular nail. “They shall be the best seasoning for the best dish I’ve ever encountered. This must be divine providence. To think I’d get to enjoy a delectable meal right before I travelled to the next city. Worry not. A long and beautiful journey awaits you.” It dipped its finger into the bowl of spices and drew a line down Triss’ forehead, neck, and lips.

The sorceress’ eyes went wide with horror.

***

A loud roar shook the chamber, and mana ran around like huge, crashing waves.

Gruffyd’s face contorted in rage. Impatiently, he turned around and saw a sword-swinging silhouette slowly and stiffly approaching him. The vampire accepted the challenge. It would tear this annoying insect apart and make it its appetizer, but then a bolt flew straight at it.

The vampire easily deflected the bolt, but a surge of strange energy penetrated its shield, stunning it for a moment.

The man charged straight ahead and gave the vampire a bear hug, much to its surprise.

Roy shot a scorching fireball to the vampire, igniting the clay bombs on the clone. Oddly enough, the explosion was restricted to a one-meter radius. A blinding flash of light shone through the chamber, accompanied by gusts of icy wind.

And then a crimson light shone. The vampire was forced to take the whole explosion’s impact. The cave rumbled from the explosion, stalactite falling from the ceiling.

***

And then, a deafening scream tore the air apart. A gigantic bat emerged from the explosion, but it looked worse for wear. Its wings were torn to pieces, and flames licked its body, refusing to die down no matter what. Its body was charred, but its flesh was wriggling and writhing.

The vampire glared at the witcher with hate-filled eyes, and it pounced. Like a crimson meteor, it slammed down onto the witcher, but the monster had slowed down considerably after taking that big hit.

Roy was prepared for this. He fired a bolt at the other end of the cave and blinked away from the vampire’s trajectory.

And not a moment too soon. The bat slammed into the ground like a crimson erupting volcano, and it left a crater.

Roy cast another Sign and let out another roar at the top of his lungs. The roar echoed within the chamber, and Roy bled from his face from the mana recoil. But he made it. The second clone appeared and stopped Gruffyd.

In all its fury, the vampire hurled a crimson spear at Roy. It passed through the illusion, hurtling toward Roy’s head.

The witcher held Aerondight up and brought it down on the spear, cutting it in two. Quen shielded him from the rest of the impact.

At the same time, the clone had run into the vampire and was crushed in a moment. Yet it did its job. Frosty winds covered the bat, slowing its speed down by another considerable degree.

With his left hand, Roy cast a Sign, and with his right, he fired a bolt.

A bolt of electricity arced through the air. The bat’s bloody shield deflected it, but not before it was numbed for one moment. A bolt flew through the air and hit its forehead. It failed to pierce through the monster’s hardened skull, but the momentum made it take a step back and stunned it.

The witcher was gone. He reappeared beside the bat while it was still stunned, and now came the decisive move.

Tentacles. A sea of tentacles appeared from thin air and drowned the vampire like a sea of blood. They covered every inch of its skin and held it up in the air.

Mocha couldn’t shapeshift or become intangible. It harkened him back to that moment many years ago, when it met the Unseen Elder in Vicovaro. No, this is much worse!

Failure to defeat the witcher meant death for the vampire, because the witcher—at the moment at least—resembled the reaper himself. He was an executioner waiting to claim the life of his victim.

His face was tense, and his eyes were ablaze with fury and murder. As he raised his blade high up in the air, the tentacles opened an infinitesimal crack for him. Just enough to cut through the vampire.

The light of flames projected his shadow onto the walls, and his murderous intent, for some reason, took the form of crimson, flailing tentacles. With all his might, Roy swung his blade down on the vampire’s neck, cutting down his fear and hatred.

The crimson blade cut through the monster’s neck, and its head rolled over to the witcher’s foot. Aerondight’s runes dimmed, and blood splattered Roy’s face. He switched the blade out for Gwyhyr and went in for another attack. He brought his blade down and cut the headless body in half.

A gigantic, ethereal bat emerged from the corpse. It roared at the witcher and raised a sea of blood, but then the tentacles behind the witcher lashed out and wrapped themselves around the vampire’s soul like boa constrictors.

And then they devoured it, though not before the vampire let out one final scream before its death.

Strings of blood protruded from the dismembered corpse, entwining and pulling one another closer until Gruffyd was completely covered, but this body was a mere shell. Nothing more.

‘You have devoured Mocha aep Gruffyd. EXP +600.’

Far away in Vicovaro, a deep, dark, ancient cave stood. A humanoid figure with pale skin and tattooed runes hung upside down from the ceiling, and it opened its eyes that looked like mercury. A sigh escaped its lips, echoing in the chamber. “That’s one less of us.”

***

The Queen of the Night was in her establishment. She felt the death of a higher vampire, and she put her glass of wine down. She stared in the direction of the cave in rural Vizima, shock filling her eyes. “Someone killed that cunning bastard?”

***

At the same time, Triss’ eyes went wide with shock. All she could see was two silhouettes fighting at top speed around the wall. One was that bat, and the other… she had no idea.

In the end, an octopus managed to wrap its tentacles around the bat and devoured it. At the same time, it was spitting out many things around it. One of them was the element of time itself.

The squid let out a sigh of satisfaction and wriggled around once more before it quickly swam away into the void.

And then a bloodied young man appeared before Triss, his cape billowing in the air like a pair of wings. The sudden appearance of this supposed hero suffocated her, intoxicating her.

***

***