The Divine Hunter

The gentle morning breeze blew away the smoke of the battle, and the light of dawn shone on the broken land.

“How do you feel, kid?” Lambert tapped Roy, who was staring at the skies.

Roy’s clothes were tattered. He fell to the ground, and dead silence graced the air. The young witcher was pale as a cloud, but his thoughts were pensive. There was something else welling up within his heart, and he did not look like someone who came out alive from an intense battle.

“Still alive, don’t worry.” Roy took a deep breath. The pain from his bones was relieved a little, then he turned his attention to the character sheet.

‘Age: 18 years old

Gender: Male

HP: 50/100 (Locked. Weakened. Remaining time: 59 days, 23 hours, 50 minutes and 30 seconds).

Strength: 5 (Extremely weakened)

Dexterity: 6

Constitution: 10

Perception: 5

Will: 38

Charisma: 10

Spirit: 6

Level 14 Witcher (0/16500)

You are currently unable to use Descend.’

***

Three hundred seconds in the form of the Most High. All that power, and in exchange, he had a refractory period of two months. Roy sighed, smiling bitterly. The side effects were a lot worse than he thought. This form would, without a doubt, be his last, desperate resort.

And then he felt his cloak and the rough ground beneath him replaced by something soft and warm. It was so comfy, he moaned.

Lytta was already on the ground, resting Roy’s head on her lap. She massaged his temples gently with one hand and rubbed his forehead with the other, as if trying to soothe his wrinkles and worries.

Roy looked back, and Lytta smiled gently, though Roy could see red tear tracks at the corners of her eyes. Blood covered her mouth, proof that her magic had recoiled. For a moment, holes covered the skies earlier, and the Cleansing Flame fell like rain. Lytta thought everything was over. She was ready to die with Roy, but then fate took a swift turn.

Roy survived. Even though he was battered and weakened, this was the best they could hope for. She brushed her fingers across his cheek. Every single one of them survived this battle. He did what he promised.

Triss was a distance away, but she was quickly approaching them. She clasped her hands before her belly and pursed her lips. She wanted to say something, then the winds blew her hair across her face.

She and Kiyan stayed at the sewers’ entryway throughout the whole ordeal, missing the whole adventure.

“Had enough of the lady, Roy? You can breathe, can’t you? Then talk. So… um… that giant octopus was the Most High? The monster Idarran was obsessed with?” Lambert rolled his sleeves up. Felix was unconscious before a patch of ribleaf. Lambert slapped him awake.

The witcher woke up with red marks on his face. As though he had just awoken from a long dream, there was confusion in his eyes.

Bald Eskel and Serrit woke Letho, Coen, and Vesemir up the same way Lambert woke Felix up. Auckes, Geralt, Aiden, and Kiyan quickly bound the sleeping Alzur and grandmasters with dimeritium cuffs and fetters.

“To be precise, it’s the devourer of civilizations and bringer of the cycle. The traveler of parallel worlds,” said Roy.

“Tsk. Scary titles, yet it ran away anyway.” Kalkstein had forgotten all about his condition. He crouched, staring at Roy with curiosity and the lunacy of a mad researcher. “So tell me, that little blob that won the battle was you, wasn’t it? You’re the Most High’s relative?”

Roy’s pupils contracted, and he answered curtly, “It’s a secret.”

The witchers exchanged a look and scanned the place around them. The ground in a 500-yard radius around them was covered in crimson magma, caved in, and broken up by the tentacles. The land that spanned miles from Maribor to the wilderness had a deep ditch carved into it. It was like a dried-up riverbed.

This landscape was made by incredible power that exceeded the forbidden spell of Alzur. Not even a battle of twenty thousand soldiers could leave this deep a mark. The witchers knew they couldn’t last ten seconds in a fight with that monster. The cruel reality was that Roy was already miles ahead of them.

“You were at a serious disadvantage. The tentacles almost flattened you, so how did you defeat that nightmare?” Serrit asked, surprised.

Roy was silent for a moment. Should I tell them that the Most High has acknowledged me? That I am no longer its shadow, but a new Most High myself? That someday I’ll become an octopus that feeds on civilization across parallel worlds? Roy shook his head. He was still a Viper School witcher. At the very least, for the next few centuries, he had no interest in being a Most High.

Roy slowly scanned his companions. “We have agreed to a permanent peace treaty. From now on, our world will not be threatened by the creature anymore. The Cleansing Flame is no more.” The Most High had given up feeding in this space.

“So the problem is solved, and we can go back to the kids in Ellander?” Geralt asked with uncertainty, but there was anticipation in his eyes.

“Yes.”

Everyone was relieved, and smiles broke out on their tensed-up faces. “The brotherhood’s diplomat and top seer, now the world’s savior.” Auckes crossed his arms. He looked proud. He knew Roy had kept a lot of details and secrets tucked away, but he wouldn’t ask too much. No matter how powerful Roy got, he would always be Auckes’s junior.

“So should we thank you, then?” Lambert cleared his throat. Like a bard who was about to start performing, he bowed deeply to Roy, his head shining like a mirror and nearly blinding everyone. “Your act is too great for my thanks. If you run into any sort of monster like ‘The Fearless’ next time, I’ll take care of your family in your stead.”

Someone harrumphed. “Will you shut it, you fool? You want to die?” Aiden snarled and smacked the back of Lambert’s head.

Lambert smacked him back. Coral covered her mouth and giggled, then she winked cheekily at Roy.

The sorceress smiled. “I have nothing to repay this favor with, save for my body.”

“Ahem, Lytta, we’re all single here, so spare our feelings, please.” Serrit picked up a crimson agate from the ground. There were five of them. “And let’s talk business. What are these, kid?”

Roy took a look, and a look of disbelief painted his face.

‘Essence of the Most High

Effect: When taken, the user will ascend to the perfect world and attain the best outcome of all parallel worlds.’

Roy was reminded of the Most High’s message before it left. “To celebrate your birth, I will give you this space-time, these people, and their wishes.”

“It’s an infinite wishing well.”

“A wishing well?” Everyone stopped breathing for a moment. They had a collective look of awe and surprise on their faces.

Serrit’s heart skipped a beat. He knew how important this thing was, and he stuffed all the crystals into Roy’s hands.

“It’s better than djinns?” Kalkstein’s eyes shone. He wanted to cut these up and research them.

“No. It grants wishes in a very special way.” Roy held the opinion that parallel timelines couldn’t be compared to their original world. After all, the family and friends living there weren’t the people he knew. “We don’t need these. We have a better choice.”

They were living in the present. There was no need to go after any parallel worlds.

“You sure that’s right, kid?” Letho rubbed his shiny head and turned to their captives who were sleeping beside a tree. Five agates for five captives. “If these are not for us, then who’s it for? Them?”

“Good question, Letho. People, we have an issue on our hands.” Serrit raised his voice, looking troubled. “How should we deal with them?”

The witchers’ creators and grandmasters were tied up easily by their juniors. Such a thing would have been unimaginable in the past.

Aiden growled, “I say we kill them.” He didn’t know any of these people. No Cats among them.

“Grandmasters are no monsters. Killing them would be a waste. Akin to smashing a priceless treasure.” Kalkstein was raring to go. “Why don’t we cut—”

“Get them on our side,” Letho quickly dashed the idea. He stared at long-faced Ivar and blurted, “The creed does say we need to gather all the brethren worth gathering. Aside from collecting the souls of the dead on battlefields, the grandmasters have done nothing bad over the years. I think they’re worthy of the membership.”

Vesemir nodded, and he stroked his beard out of habit, though all he could grab was air. “We know Ivar, Elgar, and Erland mean us no harm.”

Coen looked at Erland, his eyes shining. He stared at the eagle tattoo and the grandmaster’s dried Mohican hair. “Every grandmaster is a living treasure trove. Their knowledge, experience, and skills in alchemy, swordplay, and blacksmithing will be valuable for the brotherhood.”

Liber Tenebrarum was something written by Erland. “If the kids know they’ll have legendary witchers as their teachers, they’ll go wild with glee.”

Letho added, “The grandmasters took this path for their own reasons. We’ve witnessed their past. Any other human would’ve broken down if they were put in their positions.”

Everyone fell silent. Once again, they were reminded of the vivid history. The grandmasters had never brought destruction to this world. This world and the people it protected, however, betrayed and ruined them. These witchers were idealists who wanted to save the world, but reality beat them back to their senses.

“I say we kill just Arnaghad and avenge Roy.” Serrit slit a finger across his throat, the look on his face solemn. Like a reaper hiding in the shadows.

Felix shot him a glare. He thought about the young boy who sold himself to Alzur just to save his parents. He thought about how Arnaghad stood in a broken castle with nothing but a sword in his hand. The butcher of the Bear School resembled him a little. Killing him just like that wouldn’t feel right.

Roy looked at the icy, unconscious witcher, and his eyes flared with anger. He was reminded of the battle in the castle of Cintra, where he was chopped up.

Lytta noticed the anger in his eyes, and she quickly massaged his temples.

“As for Alzur…”

The sorcerer under the tree coughed, and he opened his eyes. He first scanned the space around him, disbelief filling his eyes. “Is this heaven or hell?” Alzur held himself up with difficulty. His whole body was sore, and his limbs cramped, like he’d just done three days and three nights’ worth of manual labor. “Or is this an illusion in the Most High’s body? How am I still alive?”

“Alzur.” Kalkstein crouched before the sorcerer and grinned toothily. “You think the dimeritium cuffs are fake? Try casting a spell. Just accept the truth. The Most High you dream of has escaped.”

“No! No one in this world can stop it!” Alzur growled, black as thunder.

“It is the truth!” Triss shouted.

The grandmasters grunted and slowly woke up. There was confusion in their eyes, but they were hardened enough to stay calm quickly and realize what kind of situation they were in.

Lambert looked down at them. Haughtily, he said, “From now on, you’re the brotherhood’s captives.”

***

“The Most High has gone to the next cycle? Then everything’s over,” said Alzur weakly after he was brought up to speed. There was despair in his voice. “Who can grant us our wish, then?”

The grandmasters blanched, looking defeated.

“How did you do it, Roy? You’re the Most High’s shadow. How did you defeat the original?” Alzur’s bloodshot eyes went wide with mania. He was speaking nonsense.

“But that doesn’t mean a shadow will remain a shadow forever,” Roy said, barely a whisper.

“Don’t mutter, brat. Speak up like a man!” Arnaghad sat up, agitated.

And then a flash of white light flew through the air. Letho smacked the burly witcher with the back of his sword and knocked him down. “Watch your tongue, mate. Roy’s not a brat. Without him, you’d have nothing but piles of sh*t in the Most High’s belly.”

“Living like this has no meaning,” said Erland listlessly, his hair hanging down. The Most High had disappeared, and the avalanche couldn’t be turned back.

“Erland.” Coen took a deep breath and straightened his collar out. There was respect in his eyes. “Keldar has passed, but the Griffin School still has me. The brotherhood has talented kids that’ll grow stronger in the future. If you join us, we can make a better future together and revive the order’s glory!”

Coen was starting to get too excited. “No! Even better than that! There will be no sorcerer or mob who’d dare attack us, or they will be ripped apart!”

Erland paused for a few moments and looked at the younger Griffin. He looked like an honest guy. “I don’t remember Keldar taking in you.”

“Long story short, Liber Tenebrarum, the book you wrote, gained some sort of power and raised Keldar from the dead. He kept on living, until a few years ago, that is.”

Erland had a conflicted look on his face. He was glad to hear that, but he regretted it too, and he sighed. “You do not understand. My world has stopped turning since the avalanche happened.”

***

“Elgar,” an old voice said. It caught Elgar’s attention. He saw a fair, hairless, beardless, and browless old man. His eyes held stories within their depths, but Elgar thought this man looked familiar.

“I’m Vesemir. Do you still remember me? I learned the art of blacksmithing from you in Kaer Morhen.”

Ten seconds later, realization struck Elgar. He blurted, “Oh, the guy who hooked up with five women in a year? You’re still alive?”

All the witchers gave Vesemir looks. The sorceresses, especially, were looking at him like they were saying, ‘Wow, didn’t know you were a pervert, Vesemir.’

Even though Vesemir knew no shame, he still smiled awkwardly. “Just the past, just the past. I’m not the same person I once was. Back to business. Elgar, after that devastating battle at Kaer Morhen, I survived by lying underneath a corpse. Kaer Morhen did not disappear. He patted the shoulders of Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert. The Wolves nodded at Elgar with respect. The man deserved as much.

“See these? They’re my students. We have a couple young kids back at the temple. They passed the Wolf’s Trial too. Join us. So what if the Most High is gone?” Vesemir said animatedly, like he had returned to his younger years. His eyes were shining. “You can rebuild Kaer Morhen with us and return it to its former glory. No, even more than that.”

Elgar looked like he was struggling with a decision.

***

“You sure know how to hide, you old git. We’ve been searching for you high and low.” Auckes was rubbing his fist, like he would punch his mentor at any given moment. “You dumped us without saying a word and went around living the best life instead.”

“Best life, my f*cking *ss! Can’t you guys put yourselves in my shoes? I did it to deal with the Wild Hunt problem!” Ivar roared at his students, but there was a smile on his lips. He was like an old man with the soul of a child inside him. “This is insubordination! Release me, now!”

Letho narrowed his eyes and grumbled, “I think you should stay fettered. That’s what you get for dumping your comrades. Oh, and allow me to introduce you.” Letho pointed at the young witcher who was lying in Lytta’s lap. “Roy of the Viper School. He’s one of us too.”

“I saw him back in the castle of Cintra.” Ivar nodded at Roy. There was praise in his eyes. “Young, skilled, loyal, and managed to come back from a different world. Loads better than you three. F*ck you do but drink and sleep around?”

Triss had a conflicted look on her face. She pulled her hair back. These jerks wiped my memories, and I couldn’t even get them back until now.

“Still better than an old git who dumps his whole school behind,” Auckes snapped, but he was grinning.

“Think about it, Ivar. Don’t need to ask the Most High to deal with the Wild Hunt problem.” Letho looked into Ivar’s horrified eyes. He declared, “Sooner or later, the brotherhood will fight the warmongers.”

Ivar looked at the cuffs around his hands. Aucked looked around and declared, “Look forward, people. Don’t wallow in your past. See into the future. The witcher brotherhood is the future.”

***

Everyone ignored Arnaghad on purpose. He tensed up and looked dark. The Bear pulled his shoulders closer, tensing up and putting on a defensive stance.

“Where’s Idarran?” Alzur asked, his voice dead and weak.

“The Most High’s tentacles flattened him.” Geralt shook his head. “We couldn’t save him in time.”

Alzur heaved a sigh of relief. He had a look as icy as the winter winds, then he turned to Roy. “Someone died again. Kill me, boy.”

“Sorry?”

Everyone’s hearts sank.

“Kill me. Devour me.” Alzur was ashen. There was pain and agony in his voice. “Without the Most High, I have lost my chance to see Lylianna. I can never fulfill Cosimo’s wish. There is no meaning in living.”

His hundred-year plan was ruined. He hung his head low, hope in his heart snuffed out. “At least I can contribute something if you kill me.”

Chilly winds howled across the lands, dousing everyone’s enthusiasm.

With Lytta’s help, Roy slowly got up, and he showed the Most High’s essence to Alzur. The agate’s bands were glimmering under the sun. “Even without the Most High, this thing can help you ascend to the perfect world.”

“What is this?”

“A gift from the Most High.”

Perhaps the creature left them these because they had ventured through countless battlefields over the years just to feed it.

“What would you want in exchange?” Alzur’s eyes flared with hope. It was like he found his saving grace.

Roy slowly looked at the captives. They were looking a little fanatical. “I want all your knowledge, collections, and treasures. Including the djinn bottles.”

***

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