The Divine Hunter

The cavern’s paths were twisted, with steep cliffs accompanying them. Scores of hanging stone bridges stood between junctions, the deep abyss sleeping underneath. In the corners of the cave were skeletal remains of all manner of beasts, and the witcher glimpsed human bones too. Some smelled fresh, while some had been sleeping in this cave for centuries, acting as a bit of a spook for intruders.

Roy darted through the darkness like a phantom, ascending the path leading to the top of the mountain. Bones crunched underneath his feet, his eyes glinting like a beast’s. The darkness did not rob the witcher of his sight.

He passed through the suspension bridge and entered an enormous cave. It was the shape of a dome and perhaps bigger than any castle. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, closely jumbled together. They almost looked like vines, and Roy’s sense of space was slightly skewed.

Grey and green stalagmites jutted from the ground, their base thick, but their tips thin. Some were even taller than Roy. Water dripped into the holes between the rocks, splashes echoing in the air.

Roy felt something watching him. Quickly, he cast Quen over himself, and he slowed his steps, treading carefully.

A pair of crimson eyes snapped open behind a stalagmite in the corner and looked at him. Something rustled, and the creature hiding in the shadows opened its maw. The humanoid monster swung its arms and leapt out of its cover like a bird.

Roy could smell a rancid stench of excrement coming toward him. Eventually, the monster showed itself in its full glory. It had a body similar to a drowner’s, only more disgusting. Layers of skin hung flaccidly on its head, forming a loose hat made of skin and flesh. The creature had crimson hair the girth of intestines, wriggling randomly in the air. Its muscles were red, its tendons were yellow, and they were hard enough to protect the creature. Its teeth were sharp and squalidly yellow, its claws deadly.

The monster looked hideous.

‘Zeugl

Age: 20 years old

HP: 100

Strength: 10

Constitution: 10

Dexterity: 11

Perception: 5

Will: 6

Charisma: 2

Spirit: 5

Skills:

Corroding Venom Level 5: Zeugls live in places with an abundance of corpses and rotting flesh. Their claws and teeth are laced with a special type of venom. Targets who are attacked have a chance to be weakened and contract a fever.

Strength in Numbers (Passive): Whenever zeugls go around in groups, they gain +2 to Dexterity and Will.

Self Destruct (Passive): Before zeugls die, they will self-destruct and deal a great amount of impact damage and corrosive damage to everything around them.’

***

Roy crouched, holding Aerondight with both hands, and he swung his blade across the charging monster’s torso.

The zeugl’s flesh was cut open, its innards spilling to the ground. A crimson flash flew through the air, and the witcher rolled ahead on the ground, leaving the mangled corpse behind.

The zeugl burst open like an overblown balloon. Its blood and innards flew everywhere, drenching the stalagmites with blood and flesh. The ground and walls sizzled from the corrosion. Some of the blood got to the witcher, but Quen kept it off, yet the shield broke after that blow.

‘Zeugl killed. EXP +100. Level 12 Witcher (13900/12500).’

“That self-destruct was something.” Roy heaved a sigh and flicked the blood off his blade.

And then howls echoed everywhere around him. A group of humanoid monsters leapt from behind the rocks, charging at the witcher.

Devourers.

The witcher was trapped in claustrophobic space, and these monsters could self-destruct. If he were to kill them, the impact from the self-destruct would hurt the killer, but if they were not killed, they would kill their prey instead. Even witchers would find this to be a predicament.

Roy, however, wouldn’t let them get near him. Even before the monsters could get within ten yards of the witcher, Roy had already changed to his hand crossbow, and he fired six shots almost without stopping.

His first shot was fired backward, and he blinked away along with it, putting some distance between him and the suicide squad. Once he was sure he was safe, Roy fired five more shots, the bolts hurtling across the air. Some even turned an angle, and all bolts blasted the monsters’ heads.

The corpses were sent flying backward from the shots’ impact.

Something incredible was happening. The five devourers flew into the air, and their heads burst open like watermelons even before they hit the ground. The bolt ignited the explosion within the devourers, and their corpses exploded into mists of blood, the rain of red drenching the walls.

Roy stood in the distance, watching the bloody show unfold, and he blew at his hand crossbow. “Self-destruct won’t work on me twice.”

Why zeugls and devourers would self-destruct, Roy had not an inkling. One thing was for sure, however: this violent reaction post-death was a great hassle for the witcher. Their flesh and innards burst into little chunks, leaving nothing but ribcages behind. Their teeth, claws, and their flesh flew everywhere, falling into the abyss underneath the bridge.

Collecting loot was nigh impossible, but fortunately, he found a devourer den behind the stalactite. Most of the den was hidden underneath the ground, formed into a spindle. The surface looked like a little volcano made of snow, soil, and skeleton. Roy tossed a fireball into the den and blasted it to smithereens. He gained a lesser red mutagen from it.

***

On his way to the ice giant, two types of self-destructing monsters attacked the witcher. After witnessing their self-destruction first-hand, Roy would not let them get close to him. Either he shot them off with bolts, or he burned them with fire and lightning. No monsters could approach the witcher.

***

The elevation was getting higher. The witcher came to a stop upon a great boulder, suspension bridges hanging from all sides. A great, gnarly tree stood in the center, its branches devoid of leaves, replaced by balls of soil, mucus, and black feathers. The flapping of wings echoed from the branches, and the air was filled with hisses and cackles.

A few slender erynia were perched on top of the branches, looking hideous as usual, yet they were cleaning their feathers with their beaks like they were the most beautiful fowls in this land.

Apparently, these monsters had turned this tree into their nest. Around the root of the tree, skeletons sprawled. Skeletons of animals, beasts, zeugls, and even their own. These monsters saw everything as prey.

And another one walked straight into their line of sight. Squawking and screeching with delight, the erynias dove at the witcher.

And then their screeches became screams of horror.

Stalactites fell like rain, smashing into little pieces. A towering silhouette stood up within the flames, and it staggered leftward. An ancient roar reverberated across the cave, and the mountainous figure trundled out of the flames.

The monster almost resembled a misshapen and disfigured human. Its forehead protruded so much it was sagging. Its nose was wide, its mouth was a gaping maw, and its eyes were glinting like rubies. Its features were mashed together to form a jumbled and hideous face.

Its dark brown beard extended to its chest, looking like an oversized broom. Thanks to the oil and Dragon’s Dream, the flames stuck to the giant’s icy skin, refusing to get off. The monster looked like it had an armor of fire on, but icy whirlpools spun in its pores, putting out the fire.

The flames and cold were locked in an intense fight on the giant’s body, yet the giant’s blackened skin was quickly healing up. The giant charged toward the flame atronach. Even though it was tilting left and wobbled with every step, it didn’t hinder its speed. The giant covered at least four yards with every step.

The giant’s lumbering rumbled the cave, and a moment later, it was already before the atronach. At the same time, the witcher quickly fired off a volley of bolts. The bolts exploded, carving chunks off the giant’s back, and dust filled the air.

The ogroid oil and toxin on the bolts seeped into the ice giant’s bloodstream. The giant froze in pain for a fraction of a second, then it bent over and grabbed the atronach, squeezing it between its palms.

The atronach vanished into the air, turned into particles of mana. Roy fired off more bolts, and they hurtled through the air like a rainbow of death, falling on the ice giant.

The monster held its muscular left arm before its chest. If it were any other monster, the bolts would’ve blasted it away, but all they managed to do was leave small marks on the giant’s arm, and then they fell to the ground.

The giant kept its arm held up as it rammed at the stone pillar the witcher was hiding behind.

The cave rumbled again, and the pillar snapped, its lower half falling backward. Dust flew high into the air, debris ricocheting in every direction.

Despite its best effort, it was for naught. Before it knew it, the witcher had reappeared somewhere else in the cave. This time, the witcher made an Aard sign and tossed a bolt of lightning across the battlefield. At the same time, another atronach and a clone with Gabriel appeared behind him, quickly running to their positions.

***

The ice giant shouted loudly, trying to summon its own helpers, but Roy had killed all the bird monsters. It would have to fight all by its lonesome. Left with no choice, the giant charged around the cave, trying to attack the witcher and his allies.

The enormity of the cave put the giant in an even bigger disadvantage. It spent too much time chasing its prey. Even though it had enough strength to pulverize any foe in a single blow, if it couldn’t even touch the witcher, its strength was nothing.

The atronach, the witcher, and the clone hid in three different corners of the cave, tossing out a barrage of attacks at the giant. Lights of different colors shone and glimmered, explosions and the whizzing of bolts filled the air, the giant’s roars playing along like a cacophony of sounds.

The fireballs hurled by the atronach flew through the air in an arc, charring the giant’s skin. The lightning bolts Roy cast carved gashes across the ground as it numbed the giant, and the clone’s bolts carved the giant’s flesh away, boring hole after hole in its body.

The wounds were not much, but as they slowly accumulated, even the giant was starting to feel the heat. The ogroid oil hampered its regenerative abilities, while the pufferfish toxin ate away at its nervous system, slowing its reflexes, and the broken tendons of its left leg dragged its movements down even more.

The witcher was not in a good state either. He was drenched in sweat, his face tense, his gaze nervous. This was a war of attrition as far as they were concerned. The incessant teleportation, summoning of his minions, lightning bolts, and occasional Fear ate up all his mana, including the restored mana he received from Activate, and it had only been five minutes since the battle began.

He only had five potions of minor mana restoration and one charge of Full Recovery left in his stash.

The giant roared. For the seventh time, he destroyed the atronach. The beast thumped its chest and let out another long roar. The cry slithered through the cracks between the walls, echoing between the mountains.

It staggered, almost falling down. The light in its eyes was starting to dim, and its breathing was ragged. With every breath it took, its body shivered. The burns, the gaping holes, and the blackened wounds from the electrocution were slowly tearing its body apart like it was a crumbling statue, and its hunger was helping them.

The giant ignored the exploding bolts, and it strode toward the western corner. It yanked a black, rusty anchor out of the wall, holding the anchor with one hand and the chain with the other.

With its weight put in its right foot, the ice giant spiraled and swung the chain. It was the monster’s spin of death.

The anchor barreled through the air, howling like the wind. It traveled five yards in a single moment, hitting the spot where the witcher was hiding. The anchor smashed into the ground like a black meteor, snow and debris flying everywhere, and the metal left a crater behind.

Roy managed to teleport to his clone in the nick of time, yet he looked white, and he shuddered.

Before he could even heave a sigh, the spinning anchor loomed over him again, threatening to take his life away.

The clone shattered into pieces, and Roy couldn’t manage to summon another one in time. The giant slowly moved closer, the shadow of its towering body looming over Roy, and it swung the anchor, the great metal charging across half the chamber.

Roy grabbed his hand crossbow. Ripples scattered across the air, and he reappeared somewhere else with his bolt, but luck was not on his side this time.

Even before he could land, he felt a gust of wind charging at his back, and a wave of power rammed through his back, breaking every bone in his body. The witcher hurtled ahead like a cannon before he could even let out a yelp, and he slammed into the wall.

The wall crashed into pieces, and a mangled corpse slid down from a human-shaped crater, leaving behind blood and mincemeat.

A smile of relief cracked across the ice giant’s lips. It let go of the anchor and plopped down heavily, its hands resting on its knees, its breathing still ragged. Pain and exhaustion seared and flared from all its blackened and bleeding wounds. The oil and toxin exploded at the same time, sapping what was left of its strength.

I won. That was the only thought left in its rudimentary mind. That bug is dead. Woke me up and ran around so much, I couldn’t hit it. But it’s dead now. I want to skin him and chew him a thousand times before I gulp him up. I’m hungry. I want to eat everything. But first, let me sleep.

Its eyelids started to droop, and it hung its head low, its muscles relaxing.

And then a whizzing in the air swept away all its sleepiness. The bug that should’ve been quashed flew over out of nowhere, stepping down on an invisible staircase.

The witcher’s hair was unkempt, a patch of blood and mincemeat hanging from his caved-in armor. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth, his throat trembling.

“Fus!“

The Shout slammed into the giant’s head, and it bled from its face. Dizzy, it fell back down and held its right arm up by instinct, covering its face, but it was too tired to fight. The toxin had seeped into its innards. Even its hands were shivering.

Like a dancer, the witcher fluttered down onto the back of the giant’s hand. He crouched and held his blade by his cheek, holding it out like a bull’s horn.

The ice giant expended the last of its strength, holding up its hand in an attempt to squeeze the witcher to death.

The witcher leapt ahead and dodged the hand. At the same time, he thrust his blade into the giant’s chest, the edge flaring crimson.

The giant’s arm fell limp to its side, and it was coughing up blood and pieces of its innards. The witcher stood atop the dying monster, pulling his blade up and staring down at it, his eyes glinting.

The monster closed its eyes, falling into unconsciousness. Am I finally dying? Lived for hundreds of years, killed by an insect?

***

Death did not claim it. The witcher stepped ahead, crossing its neck and finally stopping on its nose. A smile curled his lips, and he pressed his right hand into the center of the giant’s forehead, and a red light shimmered around him.

***

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