The Divine Hunter

Roy stood in the center of the infinite web, scanning his surroundings. He thought this place felt a little familiar. It was as phantom-like and hard to grasp as the kingdom of Freya, only this was the domain of the Lionhead Spider, ruler of pain, misery, and unnatural deaths. Freya had told the witcher that besides her and Melitele, the other gods were not exactly seen as gods. Their domains were never raised into the skies beyond this world. They were tethered to the old world.action

Compared to the goddesses, these evil gods were nothing but heretical beings who had more power than the beings in this world. With Oxenfurt and Nilgaard’s academies working on the power of science and technology, all faiths related to corrupted beings were getting weaker. The fact that the Lionhead Spider’s priestess was willing to hide in a remote village meant the god’s power was a far cry from its prime.

Roy held the hilt of his blade in his right hand. He felt the connection between him and his weapon. He felt the magic swirling in his body. Feeling slightly more confident about what was to come, determination filled his eyes. He knew he had a chance to slay this towering spider.

“You’re more composed than I would expect. Might you have seen places like these before? The coliseum of Svalblod, the domain of Crimson Emperor, or perhaps the garden of Dana Meadbh, Queen of the Fields?” The voice sounded surprised at the witcher’s collected behavior.

Roy ignored it and looked around, trying to search for any anomalies. There was only chaos around him, swirling and swimming like currents in a deep sea, splitting into countless streams. He couldn’t find where the spider was hiding, so he stayed still, observing.

“Or perhaps your courage stands tall among your peers. Despite being in the presence of a world this grandiose and magnificent, you refuse to give it the proper respect it deserves?”

Roy remained silent. He saw a few balls of golden light gleaming in the depths of the web. When he tried to have a closer look, they disappeared.

The voice hidden in the depths chuckled. “You are being alarmed for no reason. I did not drag you into this web to have you trapped for eternity. It would be a waste of the power and resilience you have presented. Let me give you a word of advice: Do not make an enemy out of an eternal god. It would be akin to a basilisk or a wyvern trying to enrage a real dragon. Let us be partners.”

A gust of wind blew across the balls of green flames. Roy caught the stench of death and rot, not unlike the scent coming from graves or coffins covered in moss and soil. It would make any living being uneasy.

“If you remain obstinate, you will face consequences far beyond your imagination. You will witness eternal pain. Before it, time and space are nothing.”

Everything around Roy melted away, replaced by darkness and desolation. Roy thought he was being turned into a cocoon, held upside down in this web. There was no sound, light, or warmth in the cocoon. Even moving a finger was difficult in a claustrophobic space like this. He was imprisoned within this eternal web like a mummy, struggling and screaming, though all his pain would be given to the ruler of this land. He would be singing praise to its name.

The witcher harrumphed. Crimson light rippled behind him, and the illusion was crushed.

“The path is underneath your feet, witcher.” The voice raised its volume to a sonorous roar. Space itself shivered, and the cocoons residing within the web started to wriggle, huddling closer to Roy. On their surfaces were vague, humanoid faces, screaming in agony.

“Will you be my enemy and fall into hell, or will you work with me and rule this world?”

What an arrogant spider. “And what do I get from the partnership?”

“You shall have my emblem. You shall be the shepherd of my believers and destroyer of heretics. You will make this world know pain and fear. You shall spread misery and death. You will rekindle the name of the omen god. You will possess wealth far beyond any emperor can imagine. You will share my eternal glory. I shall drink the pain of the living, while you will gain their souls after they die. We are the perfect partners, and the Eternal Web bears witness to this.”

Roy’s face was hidden in the darkness. A smirk curled his lips, and he sneered silently. If the Great Weaver is as powerful as it claims, why would it tell its priestess to hide in a remote village and torment poor orphans? Why would it only make its move after its priestess is dead? The fact that a god is trying its best to convince a mere mortal can only mean one thing. It’s weak.

“I just killed your priestess.” Roy looked into the distance and took a deep breath. “And yet you wish to partner with me? I can’t say I’m worried.”

“Death is not the end in my creed, nor is it punishment.”

And a cocoon before Roy broke open. A naked arm came stretching out, its skin covered in something that looked like amniotic fluid. It was like a baby coming out of its mother. Another arm came out, and the arms tore the cocoon apart. A woman, gleaming and shimmering, came out of the cocoon. From the waist up, she was voluptuous and beautiful. There was a tattoo of Grayba the Black on her back. From the waist down, she had eight legs and the body of a spider. This creature was the priestess Roy fought not too long ago.

‘Abigail

Status: Songstress of Pain (imprisoned in the Eternal Web. Sings odes of agony to the Lionhead Spider until the day she disappears.’

***

Roy shook his head. This spider is really efficient. Not enough with the sacrifice its believers gave it while they were alive, so it wants them to sing praises even after their death. They have to work hard just to get nothing in the end. It’d be better if they were devoured by me. Putting their faith in something like that is preposterous.

The priestess looked at the witcher, with not a hint of hatred in her eyes. She showed her beautiful body to her killer and gave him a bow. “Thank you, Roy. You have given me death, and through that, I have gained the most remarkable gift of life. I now understand the truth of agony more than ever. I have now truly entered the eternal kingdom.”

It was genuine gratitude the priestess was showing, and tears glistened in her eyes. There was no individuality in those eyes, however. There was only self-destructing passion and fanaticism.

“Now do you understand, Roy? We have no grudge between us. There is nothing standing between us and the partnership,” the voice said.

Abigail bowed and scuttled off into the darkness.

“Witchers live long lives, but what are hundred of years to an eternity? Does it not destroy you, knowing that you have all this power only to lose it all in death at the end of your limited lifespan? Work with me, and you will step into eternity. Death will no longer be the end for you.”

And I’ll be your marionette instead? Roy sneered in his mind, but he pretended to be hesitant and tempted on the outside. He clenched his fists, musing over his options, and then he spoke. “I have never built a connection with any gods before,” he lied, “but I have seen a merchant by the name of Gaunter O’Dimm. He knows of a soul contract, and I think that can be used in our situation. Given that you are an eternal god, you can create that kind of contract as well, can’t you? Then let’s sign it. The contract with our souls on the line.” Roy looked at the chaos above him.

The voice fell silent. Even as a god, the Lionhead Spider could not see through Roy’s heart, nor could it discern how genuine this offer was.

***

“Very well. You made a smart decision, but you know what happens should you deceive a god.” The green flames shone brighter than ever, swaying in the dark winds that crossed them by. The cocoons wriggled as hard as they could, howling in pain to celebrate the coming partnership.

Roy’s pupils contracted. Dozens of yards away, a gigantic silhouette of a spider was projected into the endless space. It was clumsily descending from the skies, hanging on by the thread on its abdomen. The creature was ten times bigger than Abigail. Every single foot was like an arch bridge made of black metal.

The creature’s abdomen was as big as an ant queen’s. Every movement it made felt bloated, tired, and old. Its eyes were the shade of dark gold, but there was not a hint of magnanimity or sanctity within them. Instead, the eyes burned the hearts of those they looked at, excavating their souls for dark, painful memories.

It fell upon the web, its abdomen pushing down on it, and the web swayed like a hammock.

‘Coram Agh Tera/Grayba the Black

HP: ? (Forgotten: Its believers and priests are almost all gone)

Mana: ?

Status: God of Omen (Creator of the cult that places its faith in death, pain, and misery)

Strength: 30 (Weakened)

Dexterity: 30

Constitution: ?

Perception: 30

Will: 36

Charisma: ?

Spirit: ?

Skills:

Agony Level 10: Pain inflicted upon the flesh and soul will be amplified by ten as long as the target remains in the Eternal Web. The Lionhead Spider can absorb energy from that pain.

Misery Level 10: Those who defy the Lionhead Spider within its domain will be cursed by slowing, weakening, and transfigurative effects.

Incubation Level 10: Releases the singers of agony within the cocoons. The user may control them and fight its enemies.

Thread of Destiny Level 10: Every living being, at birth, will have a thread of destiny belonging to them. When that thread breaks, the living being dies. The Lionhead Spider can manipulate these threads, partially modifying the life events of its targets, dragging it closer to death.

Torment’s Bite Level 10: The Lionhead Spider, once close enough to its target, can inject its venom through its fangs into the body of its target. The target will be marked and sentenced to a deep slumber, where they will be tormented by an eternal nightmare of agony. They will be turned into the Lionhead Spider’s source of life.

Immortal (Passive) : ??? (Forgotten)’

***

The creature melded into the chaos, but it did not approach the witcher. Instead, it stared at Roy as if the witcher was its prey. The witcher and the spider looked into each other’s eyes, and an eerie silence fell upon the web.

It’s wary of something. Roy knew something was off. He quickly produced Gabriel and hit the creature with a gemstone mark. A patch of gemstone dust gleamed upon its body, making it shine like a beacon in the dark.

Roy pulled his trigger once more and blinked a hundred yards away alongside his crossbow bolt. His sword cut through the dark, a flash of silver light hurtling ahead. When the witcher reappeared, the Lionhead Spider was still thirty yards away from him. He did not close the distance at all.

“Ah, a heartbreaking decision. You have denied the gift of fate. Thus, you will swim in the sea of agony. You will howl for me. Roar for me. Shiver for me. And you will sing my praises.”

The creature’s front legs scuttled around as it pulled itself back into the air. The web was starting to sway like the roaring seas during a storm.

Hundreds of cocoons flew down from the skies like white meteors. Roy’s barrier was shattered, forcing him to retreat to the web. The cocoons broke, and bizarre silhouettes came out of them.

Roy looked at the one in the lead, and he was stupefied. He knew this man. He’d never forget that face. The man had short black hair and a muscular body draped in knight attire. He was none other than Vilgefortz himself. Standing beside him was a weird-looking human. He looked like an alder tree almost cleaved in half. A contorted face belonging to a human grew on its trunk. That face was made of branches and leaves. Roy saw it clearly. There was a colorful stubble growing on its chin.

Idarran the treant.

Farther on the right was a man in a black suit. He had skin white as clouds, lips lustrous as blood, and fangs protruding from his mouth. The man had the air of a gloomy nobleman. Gruffyd the higher vampire.

Behind them were creatures and monsters Roy had slain. Basilisks, ice giants, fleders, ghouls… All of them were coming out of their cocoons. They stood together like a squad of soldiers. They looked at Roy with ferocity, their faces contorted with pain.

From within the chaos, the Lionhead Spider mocked, “You have killed countless creatures, witcher. Do you really think it’ll end once you have slain them and devoured their souls? No. Their hatred, terror, agony, and helplessness they felt before their deaths will come back to bite you harder than ever. And now I have unleashed that pain. Savor it.”

***

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