The Divine Hunter - Chapter 453

Chapter 453: The Strongest
[TL: Asuka]
[PR: Ash]
“War should not be taken lightly. Risking your life just to seek someone out is unwise, to say the least,” Vesemir objected. “I miss Elgar as well, but we shouldn’t risk our lives for this search.”
“He’s right,” Eskel agreed. “The war between Cintra and Nilfgaard isn’t our business. Our job is to take Ciri in. That is all. Taking part in a war will be a violation of the code of neutrality. And it’s going to set a bad precedent. Our priority is to stay back and assist the kids with their Trial. We need to bolster the number of witchers.”
Most witchers nodded.
“Danger is relative,” Lambert argued. “We’ll only be moving around the edges of the battlefield to search for Erland. If we’re careful enough, we’ll be fine. It’ll be like dipping a finger into a hot pot for less than a moment. We’re faster and stronger than most people. It’d be okay.”
“Not your call to make,” Letho argued. He seemed to be experienced with meddling with a country’s affairs. “You won’t be dipping a finger into the pot. You’ll be thrown into sizzling oil. War will grind you up and spit you out into little pieces. You’d be nothing but food for the beasts that’ll inevitably come after the end of the battle.”
“Your concern is appreciated, but I must go,” Jerome insisted. He then slammed his fist onto the table. “Marnadal, Cintra, Sodden Hill, I don’t care. I’ll keep going until I find Erland.”
Roy wanted to stop him, but Jerome added stubbornly, “I have to do something. This is my only reason to live. If I am not allowed to find him, I won’t have any reason to go on anymore.” He was already so close to finding Erland. Jerome refused to sit around and waste another century.
The air froze for a moment.
“This calls for a vote, then,” Serrit said. “We don’t have to meddle with Cintra’s war. It’s entirely possible to join another war after the brotherhood has grown enough. If the mural is true, the entity will be joining most wars in the world. There’ll be more of that after Cintra’s battle. We still have our chances. And besides, everything you said about the mural is just speculation. A conspiracy theory. It can’t be trusted just yet.”
“All the more reason to seek out the truth. I can’t wait any longer, friend.” Flames of eagerness flared in Jerome’s eyes.
“That’s a deathwish,” Serrit said coldly. “You’re in the brotherhood now. Follow the rules and control yourself. You know what you look like? An addict who can’t wait to get his next fix.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll serve the brotherhood, but once I return from my search,” Jerome said.
Roy looked at his companions. Jerome’s wishes were in conflict with the brotherhood’s. He would love it if Jerome could stay calm and think for the future, but the world didn’t work that way.
“Go, then.” Geralt just shaved, and he looked a little pale, but he had a toothy grin. “We’ll be going as well.”
“Took you long enough.” Felix shook his head. He thought this was the right call. “We might follow the code of neutrality, but we won’t stand for it if anyone tries to harm one of us. It’s a war, but so what? We’re not about to abandon our member.”
“Yep.” Aiden and Kiyan nodded.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” A grateful smile tugged on Jerome’s lips, but he shook his head. “But you have the children to care for. You have your schools to revive. You have a future. I will do this alone. A hundred years I’ve wasted. I have no future left. This is the only thing I have left now, but you guys are different.”
“You’re not doing this alone.” Coen stood up. “I’m coming with you.”
“The warzone isn’t a playground. If we move as a group, we’ll get killed too easily. Even if all thirteen of us move out, we’d still be no match for the tens of thousands of soldiers. Yeah, we’re faster and stronger than most people, but we’re still humans. At most we can kill a few hundred, and then what? We’d run out of strength and die soon enough.”
“This is just a search and rescue mission.” Coen looked at Jerome. “We’ll be enough.”
Silence swooped down on the witchers. A long silence. A little debate started sparking in their heads. Jerome might have joined the brotherhood, but he had a clear personal goal to achieve. The witchers weren’t that close to him, so they wondered if he was worth the time and risk.
***
“Fine.” Serrit looked inscrutable. He said calmly, “If Jerome insists, then we’ll send one of our members on this mission with him. Erland, the entity, Ivar, and Elgar might show up.” He didn’t think these people would show up. Serrit still objected to their meddling in the war, but he didn’t want to make things too tense.
“We’ll have to send our best member on this mission. It’s a war, after all. We’ll give him the best gear we have. Up his survival chances.”
“You guys stay back. The kids need you.” Something glinted in Kiyan’s eyes. “Coen, I’ll take your place. Jerome, I’m going with you.”
“As if.”
“Listen to me!” Hoarsely, Kiyan said, “Cats are the most agile witchers out of all six schools. We’re masters of evasion and survival. And I’m a lot better than Aiden and Felix.”
“Yeah, you wish.” Aiden sneered, and he shot Kiyan a glare.
“Hey, I’m agile too, you know,” Lambert said.
“Same here,” Auckes added.
“I have a scar on my face, but I can still run around like nothing. I can take a lot of hits before I go down,” Eskel said.
“Look at me, mate.” Kiyan pulled his sunglasses off. “You think your scar is a big deal?”
“You’re brave, lads. But skills aren’t everything. Experience matters as well. A veteran can go around a warzone with relative ease compared to amateurs,” Vesemir said. There was resignation in his voice, but also a bit of delight.
“Alright, enough.” Jerome shook his head, but nobody listened.
The witchers erupted into heated discussion, tension filling the air.
Letho slammed his hand on the table, silencing everyone. He cracked his neck and scanned his companions. “That is enough. I went through a second mutation. I’m the strongest member around, so I’m going.” His eyes flared with confidence, and he would brook no dissent.
Everyone he looked at stiffened up and muttered something under their breaths. Then they turned their heads away. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Letho was telling the truth. After his second mutation, he could fight any witcher off with relative ease in close combat.
“Then that’s settled. I—”
“No. I’m the brotherhood’s leader.” A young voice spoke. Lytta was trying to pull him back, but Roy ignored her. His eyes were on Letho, and there was a glint of challenge shimmering in them. “And Letho, you’re not the strongest member here.”
The two witchers’ eyes met, and sparks flew. Once, they were teacher and student, but now, they would have to fight.
***
The sun was shining overhead, but its light was pallid and almost cold. Letho and Roy stood five yards apart in the woods. The young witcher looked like a child compared to his mentor.
Roy crouched and held his fists by his side, his eyes set on Letho.
The witcher slowly unsheathed his blade and swung it around slowly. He put his left leg forward and held his sword up to his cheek, assuming the ox stance. The light of the sun was reflected on his blade, and his armor was covered in two layers of magical shields. A smile cracked his lips.
“Very well. It’s been two years. Let’s see how much you’ve grown. Wonder if you can surprise me.”
Letho darted ahead like a bolt of lightning, stirring up the leaves around the clearing. As he brought his sword down on Roy, the younger witcher produced a weapon of his, but it wasn’t a sword, no. Instead, it was a hand crossbow. Letho was like a weak higher vampire at close combat. Roy wouldn’t be so stupid as to engage in close combat with him.
Roy fired off a bolt, and at this close a range, the bolt hit Letho’s sword arm. The impact shattered Quen, but more surprisingly, the remaining force of that bolt threw Letho off balance, and he fell to the side.
That momentary loss of balance was still enough for him to swing his blade at Roy. He was a master swordsman, after all. One hit was all it would take for him to win. Roy was still an amateur compared to him. There were at least five openings he could use.
However, there was something else on that bow. Something that stunned him for a moment, and that power pierced through his magical shield. Letho was stunned for less than a moment, but that was all Roy needed.
He lost control of his blade. Letho tried to swing it down on Roy’s left shoulder, but the young witcher saw through it and easily evaded the blade. He then sent another bolt flying away.
Letho shook off the stun at the same time, but he didn’t swing his sword at Roy. Instead, he made a Sign and slammed it on the ground. A great blast tore through the air, and a circular shockwave undulated around Letho, sweeping everything in a five-meter radius of him away.
Mulch, soil, sticks, and leaves flew into the air, leaving behind only black soil. Surprisingly, the shockwave hit… no one.
Thirty meters away, the air rippled, and Roy reappeared. A smile curled his lips, and Roy raised his hand crossbow.
But Letho managed to dodge the attack thanks to the wall of fluttering leaves. He charged to the side and quickly recast Quen. At his speed, not even Roy’s bolt could catch up to him. Not even when it was a guided bolt.
Then Roy produced a fireball and shot it at Letho. Like the bolt, the fireball was a guided one as well. Eventually, the fireball slammed into an alder tree and broke it into small pieces, smoke billowing from its branches.
Surprisingly, Letho was unhurt. He somehow found a way to dodge those attacks. And it was time for his counterattack. The veteran witcher moved in a zigzag motion, slithering across the alder trees like a viper. He closed in on Roy at a blistering speed, leaving nothing but afterimages behind.
A bolt of electricity tried to hit Letho, but all it accomplished was the destruction of an oak tree. No use. Gotta change my tactic. He leapt at Letho like a flying spear, roaring as he did so.
And then the air itself stopped. All the mana around them fell under the control of Roy’s roar. They condensed into a ball before the young witcher and blasted open. Something resembling Roy leapt out of the raging wave of mana, coming to its summoner’s defense.
Letho’s blade charged into the illusion and destroyed it, but the moment he destroyed it, a gust of cold white air charged ahead, freezing Letho.
Icicles formed on his body, slowing his speed down by one-third. A kaleidoscopic halo shone underneath Roy, and the young witcher held up his blade, the gleam of it separating his face into two halves. One half looked as cold as ice, while the other burned bright like a ball of flame.
The witchers charged ahead like two bolts of lightning, their blades whizzing through the air and finally clashed in a roaring standoff. Even the air itself shuddered.
For a few moments, they could only hear the sounds of Signs blasting off, metal clashing together, and the labored breathing of the fighters.
Eventually, Letho’s Sign hit Roy, and he swung his blade down at the young witcher.
The final stretch of the battle, and the audience was watching intently.
But Roy wasn’t going to lose. A bloody octopus leapt out of nowhere, lashing its tentacles out at Letho and wrapping him up like they were boa constrictors. Some tentacles danced in the air, weaving horror into this plane of existence. One look at it was enough to induce nightmares for anyone.
Letho was out of commission, and Roy held Gwyhyr against his throat.
***
Everyone formed a circle.
“You’ve grown a lot, kid. More than I expected.” Letho leaned on a tree to catch a break. He wasn’t miffed by the defeat. In fact, he was happy for Roy, and the witcher patted his protégé’s shoulder. “You far exceeded my expectations.”
“You’re still my mentor no matter what happens.” Roy bowed a little.
Every other witcher felt a bit conflicted about this. Letho went all out in the battle, but the results were not what they had expected. Before they knew it, Roy had grown to be the strongest member in the group.
Lytta still had her arms crossed, the look on her face furious. She was still angry at Roy for taking the mission, but every time she stole a glance at him, there was concern in her gaze.
Kalkstein rubbed his balding head, interest twinkling in his eyes. Hm, there’s a good specimen. Maybe I should stay back for a bit. One year might not be enough.
“We’re stronger, faster, and more experienced, but he managed to win nonetheless.” Lambert sighed. He looked a little dejected. Even the strongest witcher lost to Roy. If he had gone into battle with him, Lambert knew he’d lose even faster than Letho did. “Alright, next in line for the second mutation is me. Anyone who wants it has to fight me for it.”
“What was that blink you used just now?” Jerome was a little envious of Roy’s short-range teleportation. That was the first he had seen Roy’s teleportation, and it was unique. Nothing like anything he had ever seen before. This is going to come in handy for escapes, hunts, or even anti-mage tactics.
“Think of it as some sort of ability he got from his mutation,” Serrit calmly lied.
Vesemir pinched his beard, his eyes set on Roy. Like most people there, he was wondering about Roy’s ability. If Roy had used that ability right off the bat, Letho might have lost. Was he trying not to embarrass Letho too much?
“About the octopus…” Jerome didn’t finish his sentence. Everyone ignored that as well. As long as he’s one of us, they told themselves.
“I see how you managed to kill the higher vampire now.” Eskel sighed. “So that’s why you’re the leader despite your age.”
Roy held Letho’s hand and pulled him up. “Then that settles it, fellas. I’m going with Jerome.”
“Very well.” Letho said, “But you have a lot of people waiting for you. Us, the kids, and Lytta. Safety always comes first.”
“I know. Escaping the battlefield won’t be a problem for me. I still have some tricks up my sleeve.” Roy calmly looked at his friends. When his eyes met Lytta’s, Roy gave her a look of apology.
Lytta was then reminded of his second Trial. He glowed for a moment, and all his wounds went away. The mage pursed her lips, and her worries were slightly alleviated.
***
“There’s still some time before the war. You should make all the preparations you can.” Kalkstein looked at Roy and Jerome. “If you’d like, I could make some offensive and defensive items. Cloaks of Silence, talismans, bombs, you name it. Just provide the funds, and I’ll make them for you.”
“I’ll help.” Lytta shot Roy a look. “I’d like someone to stay alive. Don’t want to be single again.”
“Thank you,” Geralt said.
“Money’s not a problem. Make sure they’re good,” Serrit said. He winced a little just thinking about the costs.
“Brothers, this is our fight, not yours.” Coen looked at his companions. He still wanted to make a case for himself, but everyone shot him glares.
“Hey, we’re brothers, aren’t we?” Lambert wrapped his arm around Coen’s shoulder and gave him a look of warning. “But if you want to go with Jerome, you can always fight Roy for it.”
“I… I…” Coen stared at the ground, his cheeks burning.
“It’s a yes or no question. C’mon, give me your answer.”
“No need for that. This matter is settled. Now let’s talk about something else.” Roy whipped out the dog tag and the cap for the mages to see.
And he got the answer he wanted.
“Oh, I think I’ve seen this before.” Kalkstein grabbed the dog tag, his eyes twinkling with reminiscence. “Reminds me of some old gits in the brotherhood. They used to look into… unique topics. Experts in creating unnatural monsters. Structures, chimeras, mutants… But that was two centuries ago. That kind of research is taboo now. And these people are probably dead or holed up somewhere now. Can’t believe you ran into one in Haern Caduch.”
“So this was a guard dog.” Jerome asked nervously, “Do you know these researchers?”
“Sorry, but they’re not in the same field as me. I only remember a few. Ortolan, Bilta, Tarwicks, and Idarran, to name a few. But their names are all I have.”
Lytta frowned. She had never heard of these people before. Must’ve been at least a century since they showed up. “I’ll be reestablishing connection with the brotherhood after this year. I’ll ask them,” Lytta said.
Everyone exchanged a look. Guess that’s the only avenue we have now.
“As for your second question, there’s only one person I know who can trap a djinn.” Respect welled in Lytta’s eyes. “Geoffrey Monck, among the first batch of northerners who have mastered the magic of ancient races, an erstwhile member of the Novigradian Union, and one of the Brotherhood of Sorcerer’s founders. He’s famous for his hobby of capturing djinns. Geoffrey would trap the djinns he caught in jars and extract three wishes from them. With their power, he could cast hurricanes and storms, and he could even fly. And he would leave the mark of a broken cross and an enneagram on his jars.”
The witchers exchanged a look. So he’s a powerful spellcaster who can probably control a grandmaster. Could he be the entity we’re looking for?
But what Lytta said next dashed their hopes.
“Unfortunately, not even djinns can make a man immortal. It has been more than a century since his death. The jars you see are the ones he had tucked away all over the world. Someone eventually came across a few of those. Before his death, he said something regarding these jars. It was weird, but it went, ‘My treasure? If you want it, you can have it. Find it! I left everything this world has to offer there!’ If I recall, Geoffrey left a magic jar in the brotherhood’s library. Called it Treasure Map,” Coral added.
Just when the witchers wanted to ask if it was still there, she said, “But some unknown individual has stolen it. Probably wanted to do something evil with it.”
“Nobody knows who that person was?”
“From what I know? No.”
“I see. So our trails went cold.” Roy took a deep breath. “Which means we’ll have to travel to the battlefield if we want to see Erland.”
***
 

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