The Divine Hunter

Vizima’s sewers. A dark, damp place filled with a rancid stench. What stood before every explorer was an abyss that stretched infinitely, with untold dangers lying within. Suddenly, the light of a torch appeared at the corner, shining on a cracked wall filled with moss and wastewater. Shadows were cast on the ground, getting longer and longer with every passing moment.

Someone had entered the passage. They were a group of four that was made up of three knights in silver armor and a witcher with a viper pendant hanging before his chest. They walked in two groups of two, holding a torch in their hands. The group stood on both sides of the passage, going forward as quietly as possible, their steps as silent as a cat’s.

A dark brown stream flowed in the middle of the path. It was made up of wasted food, excrements, and bizarre items, such as women’s clothes, torn dolls, and the leg of a table. It looked like a stream of brown mucus, and the stream filled the air with a disgusting stench.

The witcher held the torch up near the right wall and light shone on a number painted on it. The number was getting muddied, and it was proof that it had existed for ages. He unfurled the map with his other hand and compared the number on the wall with its location on the map.

The knight beside him suddenly stopped in his tracks after stepping in something. It was yellowish-brown, gooey, and felt warm. It also smelled as bad as fermented excrements.

“Congratulations, Agorn!” Zerrin from the other side laughed, and it broke the silence.

Agorn’s face turned red. He looked at the pile of excrements and held his throat as he retched. The poor guy almost puked his breakfast out. It had only been ten minutes since they came into the sewers, but the knights had already stepped in excrements. “Gods, please let me die on a battlefield. Anywhere but the sewers!”

“Silence!” Roy gesticulated, and the knights shut up.

Roy left a deep impression on them. He might not have a great physique, but he was as agile as a speed demon. They still had not forgotten how he killed a group of their fellow knights as easily as if they were children. The previous leader, Rudolf, lost to him in a fair battle as well. Knights would only submit to the powerful, and they respected the witcher.

Roy crouched and stirred the excrements with a stick he got out of nowhere. The stench of the sewers messed his sense of smell up, so he could not discern what kind of excrement this was. Not a human’s, that’s for sure. He managed to separate some bones the size of matches and the remains of half a rat. “A monster just came by. It can’t be far.” He handed the torch to Agorn and took out a bottle of Thunderbolt. The witcher drank it all, and his face was filled with purplish-black veins. His eyes were starting to glow as well, as if he were a beast.

He leaned against the wall and walked on tiptoes, his steps as silent as a cat’s. The knights who were holding the torches remained in the same spot, waiting for the witcher to return.

Agorn took a step forward and stood beside Roy. “Aren’t you scared, Mr. Roy?”

“I’ve prepared myself for this,” Roy whispered, still looking around in high alert. “I know all the creatures that might take up residence in the sewers. I know how they attack and where their weak points are. It’s what witchers must do.”

Agorn pleaded, “Can you tell us what we might run into next?”

Roy nodded and whispered, “The residents of the sewers are similar to the animals living in the woods and the wilderness. They’re all territorial. Monsters who are on par with one another will split the territory up and pick their own turf. Remember that drowner? It was just left behind. We’re in drowner territory now. We might run into its brethren next.”

A weird growl was heard coming from ahead of them. Roy slowed down and raised his crossbow. The knights had no time to process their shock. A dozen naked humanoid monsters with green skin, gills, and fins suddenly showed up before them.

They were wandering around aimlessly, but the light of the torches attracted some of them. They turned around and glared at the group.

“Raise your crossbows!” Roy took aim. “Drowners are dead bodies to an extent. They’re immune to bleeding and most poisons. Pain won’t stop them, so you’ll have to take them out in one blow!” Roy shot one of the drowners in the head, and it triggered the other drowners’ anger. They bellowed and charged toward the group.

The knights shot at the drowners, but their aim was poorer than the witcher’s. They only managed to shoot the monsters in their thighs and chests. The drowners would pause for a moment, but it did not stop their advance. Roy would kill them off the very next moment, however.

He cast Quen and raised his blade. The young witcher flicked his wrist around, and the blade spun. He charged into the group of drowners, and his first attack swiped through the air, cutting the drowners who approached him in half. He then curled up and thrusted his sword ahead, piercing the drowner’s chin and destroying its brain. The young witcher sent his target flying with Aard and thrusted his sword up into its throat. He then cast Fear on every drowner and swung Gwyhyr through the air. Just like that, two more drowners lost their heads.

He was only fighting for a few moments, but the young witcher was already bathing in drowner blood. His movements were simple, but they were as elegant as a dance. A deadly dance.

The knights were in a trance for a long time. Eventually, they unsheathed their blades and charged into the group of monsters, battling alongside the witcher.