The Divine Hunter

Winds blew in from the sea, carrying black clouds over to the skies of Novigrad. In a dark, moss-filled, sludge-covered alleyway of the slums hid a boy. He was curled up in a ball, the winter winds billowing his clumped hair and tatted clothes.

He was like a shivering chick hiding among reeds. His lips were pale and cracked, and his yellow eyes were filled with fear.

Cold and hunger assailed him, but his mind remained vigilant. Once again, he was taking a trip down memory lane. The boy used to have a happy family. His parents were merchants who sold a certain spice from Skellige Isle in the city, and they made more money than most people in the city.

They led a simple but happy life, but fate had something dark in store for them. A cargo ship that was slated to come back ran into a storm, killing his father and sinking all the cargo they purchased.

And then the nightmare started.

The debt collector came in droves, taking their expensive ornaments, furniture, and valuable clothes. Eventually, their house was sold off by Vivaldi’s dwarves to settle their debt. Left with no choice, the boy’s ailing mother rented a small house in the slums and worked as a laundress to support the family.

She lost sleep most nights and cried in silence. The hard labor and frequent contact with cold water exacerbated her coughs into pneumonia. She died not even a year later, as they didn’t have money to treat her.

Monti could never forget the last moments of his mother’s life. She was lying on her deathbed, holding his hands. Her lips were trembling, but she couldn’t make a sound, though tears kept streaming down her pale, gaunt cheeks.

Monti was eight when his mother died, and he started wandering the streets. But even beggars needed licenses in Novigrad, and they hated kids like Monti. His pride stopped him from humbling himself into putting on a sob story to make money from the people’s sympathy. He was dragged from one street to another and ran like a pup who had no one to turn to. One disobedience would earn him another beating.

Left with no choice, he begged the church for help. When his father was still alive, their family would tithe every year to pray for the Fire’s guidance in the darkness. They prayed for light and hope, but Monti realized that the tithe didn’t work. All the priests did was give him some watery soup, and then he was chased away.

Only a select few out of the many vagrant kids could stay in the church. Once again, he led the life of a vagrant. Whenever he was starving, he would pick up fallen vegetable leaves or dumpster dive for food. But Monti only lasted three months in that kind of life.

***

A downpour graced Novigrad again, drenching Monti’s clothes. He curled into himself tighter and saw everything around him turn. A few scenes flashed in his mind, one being the corpse collector, clad in black, picking up a gaunt corpse with yellow eyes and taking it into the darkness ahead. And then he saw his parents floating in the air, waving their hands at him. Oddly enough, they seemed almost transparent.

“Father, Mother, you’re the only kind souls I know. Nobody has an ounce of decency left in them.” Nobody would even lend me a hand. “Nobody.” Tears of anguish welled in Monti’s eyes, and everything turned black.

***

He felt himself bobbing up and down like he was on a sea. The water that caressed him felt like his mother’s touch. It washed the exhaustion, grime, and cold away from Monti, and then he saw a sliver of light peeking through the darkness. His dying soul mustered up what little strength it had and ran straight for the light.

“You’re awake, child.”

“Wh-Where am I? What happened to me?” His eyes refocused. The first thing he saw wasn’t the squalid alleyway or the raging skies, but an enclosed space with a ceiling overhead. He had almost forgotten how it felt to stay in a house, sheltered from the elements.

The walls smelled like mold and mildew, but there wasn’t a speck of dust or cobweb to be seen. And he was sure that warm feeling on his back wasn’t the ground. He was lying on a bed.

“You passed out in the alleyway,” a gentle voice said, and an unfamiliar face huddled closer. “We brought you here.”

He had an aquiline nose and a tired face. A scar shaped like a lightning bolt ran down the right of his face, while his eyes were feline and amber. There wasn’t any warmth in them, not unlike a beast’s.

Monti opened his mouth and tried to scream, but he saw a purple triangle flashing before his eyes. He saw the man murmur something, and it felt like a breeze just touched his heart. Fear and anxiety disappeared like magic, replaced by peace and calm. It felt like he just came back home.

The peculiar face staring at him no longer looked terrifying, and Monti realized something. “You saved me?”

“It was nothing, lad.” The man forced a smile. “You’re safe. Don’t worry. And your fever’s gone down too. You must be hungry.” The man turned around and ladled a bowl of hot soup for the boy.

Monti sniffed the air and drooled. He took the bowl and gulped everything down. There were carrots, potatoes, and even meat in the soup. He had almost forgotten the taste of good food. For a long time, even rotten food in the dumpster was a luxury to him. The boy finished every last drop of the soup, letting nothing go to waste.

Monti leaned back and rubbed his slightly bulging belly and heaved a long sigh. He licked the grease off his mouth and stared unblinkingly at the cauldron, but the boy didn’t ask for seconds for fear of angering the man.

“You’ve been starving for too long. You need to control your hunger, or it will ruin your body. I suggest you only eat that much for now.”

Everyone was staring in through the crack of the door.

“So, how’s the kid? Talented enough to be a witcher?” Auckes asked.

“Checked on him when he was out cold. Suffered a ton of wounds, but it’s alright. He’s young and can heal fast. Just need to feed him and he’ll be fine.” Eskel said, “Has okay talent. Definitely far weaker than Roy, though.”

“We got a new kid, so it’s time to prepare.” Auckes scanned the empty yard and cracked his knuckles. “Gotta set up the stakes and dummies.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Three of us are gonna stay behind to teach the kid, and everyone else is going to keep searching for orphans around Novigrad. Gawain’s men will help. Don’t do it alone, or the Novigradians will think we’re kidnappers. And we have an issue. Monti is the first kid to move in on the first day. We need to guide him onto the path of a witcher as soon as possible,” Felix said. “We need to make sure he joins us as soon as possible.”

According to their promise to the Collector, they could only train the child if they wanted to, and the witchers were above lying.

“He needs some guidance, but we’re too crude for the job. Carl can deal with this,” Roy said. “He’s about Monti’s age. Perfect to guide the boy. Felix, Carl can train with the new guy. Let them compete. Now call him here. I have some tricks I wanna teach him.”

***

“Hi, I’m Carl. I’m eight years old. What about you?” Innocent little Carl quietly entered the room and extended his hand to Monti, smiling sheepishly. Felix told him to do it, of course.

Monti hesitated for a moment before answering. “I-I’m Monti. I’m eight years old too.”

The boy before him was about half a head taller and a lot leaner than he was. Monti wanted to be as strong as Carl too. Back in Novigrad, a lot of orphans beat him up just to get a spot at the church. He had almost never seen someone his age so friendly, and he wanted to know more about Carl. “Are you also a part of this house?”

“I came with my mentor. He’s Felix, the cool guy with sunglasses.”

“Is he your father?” Monti asked, his voice filled with envy.

“No, he’s my hero.” Carl puffed his chest, his cheeks reddening with excitement. “He avenged my parents and killed the baddies who murdered them.”

Monti’s heart skipped a beat. M-Murder? Vengeance? For some reason, a hint of excitement welled within him.

Every boy had a dream to grow up as knights, travel the lands, and date noble ladies. “Is he powerful?”

Carl snorted and bragged, “He can defeat a group of big, strong men all by himself because he’s a witcher. He has the speed of a cat and the strength and stamina of a bear. He’s not an evil mutant like the rumors say. They only kill heartless people and men-eating monsters. If they want to, they can cut off the heads of any villain.” Carl raised his voice, “I’m training under my mentor right now. I wanna grow up to be a witcher!”

He leapt into the air and turned around, holding the air like it was a blade. And then he thrust his hand forward, poking Monti’s chest.

It was a standard thrust, and Carl performed it like it was a dance. Obviously, he had been training hard.

Monti stared dumbly at Carl, as if he had just seen a beautiful performance. He was reminded of himself and how he could do nothing but hold his head while rain kept pouring down on him.

If I was as skilled as Carl is… He felt a surge of emotions welling within him. Monti licked his lips, his eyes welling with anticipation. With a trembling voice, he asked, “Ca-Can I train and become a witcher too?”

“Becoming a witcher is a hard task. You’ll have to go through a ton of super intense training.” Carl was looking solemn for once, but his eyes were shining. “You need to be tough and willing enough to change your fate. If you start whining because of some training, you can forget about being a witcher. Learn how to read, farm, and rear animals instead.” Carl raised his head high. “You can be a farmer when you grow up.”

Monti clenched the blanket tightly, his face scrunched up in a dilemma. This was a tough decision for a young boy. He didn’t want to become a peasant when he knew something as magical as witchers existed. Monti really wanted to say yes.

“Training starts tomorrow morning.” Carl looked around the room. For once, he looked cunning. “Come and see for yourself if you can take it. I’ll train with you, and more friends are on their way.”

Carl was delighted he could show off his training results to someone else. “We’ll work together.”

***

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