The Divine Hunter

Salvatore was still holding his sword, but he kept averting his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, witcher.”

“I have the proof right here, so don’t even think about weaseling your way out of this.”

“What do you mean proof? You have the evidence, yes, but I was jumpy because of my disgust for creatures like you. You mutant bastards don’t deserve to live on this land!”

Roy shook his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, you can deny it all you want, but I’ll give you a chance all the same. Tell me where Letho is, and I can grant you an honorable death, or else…” Roy snorted threateningly. “You might be the next guy on a parade around town. Naked.”

Salvatore snarled, crouching down like a panther hunting its prey. His fingers were getting white from his tight grip on the sword, and he laughed hysterically. “In your dreams, mutant!” Then he made a run for the window beside him. It was almost in reach a moment later, and when he managed to hold on to the windowsill, Salvatore was overjoyed. All he had to do was push himself up, and he could escape Roy’s clutches.

But it didn’t go how he wanted. He noticed a white flash from the corner of his eye, then all he could hear was his own screams. Salvatore pressed down on his right hand, which was pierced by a crossbow bolt, pinning him against the wall.

Salvatore kept shouting and screaming, but when he noticed Roy slowly coming up to him, the knight held down his pain while holding the bolt with his left hand, pulling it out, inch by inch. His face was contorted with pain, and when he pulled the bolt out, Salvatore covered his wound with his shirt. He was drenched from head to toe, his face pale, and he plopped down in exhaustion.

“Does it hurt?” Roy came up to him and whispered evilly. “Don’t worry. It’ll hurt more later.”

Salvatore clutched his chest with his injured hand while pushing against the hilt of his sword with the other to stand up. “You dare harm a knight of the order, witcher?” he growled. “My brothers will avenge me.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too late for that?” Roy snorted. “Do you really think they’ll help you when they find out what you did? Naive. I bet they never thought the killer they wanted to apprehend had been hiding under their noses all this time. But that’s understandable. Only someone in the order could have done this despite the knights and guards heavily patrolling the place. Traitors are usually hard to detect, after all.”

“Do not slander me, witcher!” Salvatore roared. “You could never comprehend the ritual’s importance!”

“Nope, but what I do comprehend is that if anyone were to know of your crimes, that would bring shame to the order. Your comrades will abandon you, your family will be shamed, and the people will see you as nothing but a joke.” Roy locked his gaze on Salvatore, and he went in for the kill. “Let me guess. You were guarding the room like the faithful dog you were when Simon and her majesty Emilia were having fun in bed. Did you watch the show and cheer them on, Mr. Knight?”

“Silence!” Salvatore finally snapped, and he pounced at Roy with his sword in hand, as if he didn’t feel the pain. He moved by instinct, and he aimed for Roy’s throat with every swing he made.

On the other hand, Roy drew upon his training from the temple’s courtyard. The young witcher leaped back swiftly, evading Salvatore’s attacks. No matter how much Salvatore swung his sword around, Roy could always dodge it in the nick of time with his footwork. Every time he felt the sword brush against his skin, an electric current coursed through his body.

Roy shivered, but not from the cold. Instead, he was excited about the battle. Salvatore’s barrage of attacks was done a moment later, but he only needed a split second to catch his breath.

That split second was all Roy needed.

Roy lunged ahead and swung Gwyhyr up, clashing it against Salvatore’s sword. A loud boom was heard before Salvatore’s sword was sent flying away from the impact. Before Salvatore could process what was happening, he saw a twisted, bloody shadow appear behind Roy, whispering horrors into his very soul. The fear gripped him like a monster’s claw, petrifying him. Salvatore wanted to move his body, but he couldn’t even raise a finger.

He could only watch as Roy pointed his sword at his forehead, and a moment later, he saw a drop of blood flow down from his forehead, and a handful of hair fluttered to the ground. Salvatore gulped nervously, but Roy wasn’t done yet. Roy turned his sword around, walked up to him, and pressed the blade against Salvatore’s throat.

“Are you feeling more talkative now, Mr. Knight?”

Salvatore stared down and smiled mirthlessly. “Just kill me, witcher. I might lose my honor, but you’ll lose your mentor forever. Kill me, witcher,” he requested in earnest. “Your eyes aren’t the only beastly thing about you. You’re all animals through and through. Cold blooded animals like you won’t understand the sanctity of the ritual.”

“Do you really think I won’t find out where he is just because you won’t tell me?” Roy held his sword with one hand while brushing against the books’ spines with the other. At the same time, he was gazing at Salvatore. “You’d been really nervous when we came in, to the point you’d attacked me, even if it meant exposing yourself. What are you so afraid of, I wonder? Worried I might find the queen’s underwear hidden between the pages of the diary? The letters Simon wrote for her? Or…” Roy noticed a moment of panic on Salvatore’s face when he touched one particular book’s spine, and he smiled. “The hidden chamber.”

Roy forcibly pushed a black book to the side, and the cabinet started rumbling as it slid away, revealing a dark chamber behind it. “And now it’s time for you to sleep.” Roy beamed at Salvatore. Before the knight could say anything, he smacked the back of Salvatore’s neck with the back of Gwyhyr, taking him out. Then he picked the knight up before going into the chamber carefully, using the knight as a meat shield.

The chamber was the size of a regular living room, though Roy could barely see anything. Thanks to the light outside, he noticed a huge symbol etched on the surface of the ground. It was a layered sun painted in red. Perhaps it was done with red paint, or perhap with something more sinister, like human blood, but Roy didn’t care.

The light from the first floor and the light from the torches formed an angular shape, and the sun was split into three parts, starting from the center. The innermost part was split into the four seasons, written in common speech; the second part was split into twelve months of the calendar, and it was still written in common speech. The third and outermost layer was split into eight months according to the elven calendar, but it was written in ancient speech.

Between the different seasons and months lay tattered, wrinkled books. Upon closer inspection, they were books related to the Great Sun, such as ‘Tome of the Great Sun’, ‘Revelation of the Sacred Ritual’, ‘Eternal Bonds of Souls’, and ‘Reincarnation’.

“So this is Simon’s actual base,” Roy said. Then he noticed something stirring in the depths of the chamber, and he went toward the source of the sound. When he noticed who it was, Roy was shocked.

A burly man in tattered clothes was hanging on the wall like a piece of dried meat. His limbs were chained, and horrifying old scars were strewn across his muscular body. There was also a wound that pierced through his chest and stomach. When Roy looked higher, he noticed the man was bald, though his head was looking dark, just like his spirits. But Roy knew the head used to shine brighter than anyone’s future.

The bald man was hanging by a thread, his eyes shining amber, just like a cat’s. But most importantly, the man was still alive. Roy heaved a sigh before tossing Salvatore away like trash. “Been a while, Letho. Miss me?”

When Letho met Roy’s eyes, the old witcher finally forced a smile, though his bruised face made it nigh unrecognizable.