The Divine Hunter

Chapter 19: Massacre

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

“Air, water, earth, and fire swirled around you… and they left? As expected, you’re a normal human.”

“A normal human…”

The message rang around him, and Roy sighed. “I knew it. I’m a peasant’s son, after all. That’s what I should be. I wasn’t sent to a witcher because of any accident, nor am I part elf, and I’m not a magic-sensitive person. The only way I can stand tall in this world is through hard work.” That moment steeled his resolve to become a witcher.

After going into meditation for the first time, a message popped up in his character sheet.

‘You have unlocked a new skill, Meditation level 1. Meditation is training for the body and mind. Going into a meditative state calms the body and soul, speeds up the recovery of wounds, mana, and stamina, improves coordination, and increases affinity for chaos energy. Tip: Every time Meditation is leveled up, Constitution and Spirit will be permanently increased.’

Roy’s jaw dropped. It was the first time he’d acquired a skill that could increase his stats. His interest was piqued, and he wanted to level up immediately so he could level up the skill. But he calmed down quickly and set the idea aside. He couldn’t cast signs before unlocking mana, so increasing Spirit wouldn’t do much, since it only added to the strength of spells.

Letho was observing him in silence. He could sense some unseen changes in Roy through his extraordinary perception, but he couldn’t describe it in detail. He’s one mysterious boy, but he belongs to the Viper School now. His secret shall be ours, and it will pave the way for our return.

***

The pair left the wilds the next morning, and they went down the path leading toward Aldersberg. The path was strewn with carriage tracks and hoof prints, while a dense forest flanked it. Dappled sunlight shone through it, and the leaves rustled as the morning breeze blew past them. The fresh scent of the earth and leaves were swept up into the air, wafting across the path.

As the wind grew stronger, Letho pulled on the leash, forcing the horse to stop. As if alerted by something, he hunkered down and drew across the tracks before looking ahead, but there was nothing to see. Then alarm bells rang in his head. “Crossbow at the ready, Roy! Prepare for battle!” Dammit. Why’d trouble have to show up at the last leg?

Roy held down on the crossbow string made out of a cow’s tendons and loaded his bolts. He wasn’t worried despite Letho’s warning. Perhaps his confidence came from his meditation, or maybe from Letho. As they walked along the path, Roy listened closely to his surroundings, and his muscles turned taut. Two hundred feet later, Letho stopped again, the black cloth on his shoulder billowing in the gale.

A shrill sound of a whistle traveled across the forest, and a group of pasty men in tattered clothes rushed out of the forest. Are they peasants? Or a hodgepodge army?

Their clothes were nothing but ugly rags, and they were equipped with nothing but farming implements — hoes, hammers, and even pitchforks. They were in a loose, random formation, and they spat curses at the pair. They surrounded them closely, their faces filled with a cruel hunger.

Then, a middle-aged man with a green, leather hat, yellow jacket, and black pants came forward. He had a mole on his face. The group gave way to him, and he strutted with his chest out, as if he were a rooster. “Put yer weapons down an’ get down on tha ground!” he commanded.

Roy held his crossbow like he practiced, and he counted their enemies. There were thirteen of them.

Letho crossed his arms dismissively, ignoring the peasant’s warning. “Rebel army, huh? So you’re becoming bandits now?”

Roy thought quietly, Rebel army? Aren’t they revolutionists?

He had heard about the peasant movement in Aldersberg when he was still in Kaer. These guys are revolutionists? They’re just bandits.

“Fuck you! Did ja just call us bandits, ye slanderin’ bastard?” the leader roared in indignance, his face red. “We’re doin’ this fer the great revolution! To topple the tyranny of Demavend and Tavik! This is justice! If yer on the side of justice, then put yer weapons down and give up all yer money for the revolution! If ya try ter resist, then yer the dogs of tyrants! And we shall judge you!”

Roy’s face twitched. He had never seen someone so shameless before. Did they just twist a robbery into an act of justice? And we’re the bad guys because we defend ourselves? Well, what can you expect from the west? No dignity.

A frown creased Letho’s forehead. Ever since he’d started running around, nobody had ever tried to rob a witcher. It was a rare occurrence. If this were in the past, he would’ve gone up there to kill the peasants, but since Roy was with him, he found it inappropriate to kill right away. Letho held the trinket around his neck and showed it to the peasants. “Do you recognize this?”

Greed gleamed in the leader’s eyes. “Is that made outta silver? Toss ‘em here, right’ now!”

“B-Boss, t-that's a witcher!” a peasant with a long chin stammered, pointing at Letho, his face filled with horror

“What? He’s a disgustin’ mutant?”

“Look at his eyes! ‘Tis amber! The eyes of a cat!” The peasants took a step back after hearing that. Roy’s eyelid twitched, for he didn’t expect witchers to be so feared.

“B-Boss. Witchers can kill monsters. We ain’t no match fer him,” another peasant stuttered out.

“Whatcha so afraid of?” The peasant leader bellowed when his men showed cowardice. “They’re just one witcher and a child! We outnumber ‘em!” The leader took two steps back and commanded, “Charge, men! They can’t fight us all a’ once! Shred them to bits!”

“Yeah! We have nuthin’ to be afraid of!”

Finding their courage once more, the peasants picked up their farming implements and pointed them at the pair, but none made the first move.

“One last time! Put yer weapons down!”

“And let you do whatever you want?” Letho’s face fell, and he shook his head. Roy, noticing the imminent melee, went behind Letho. He wasn’t a witcher, so he needed Letho to stay in front to keep him safe.

“I can practically smell the blood on you. Been doing this robbery business for a while now, haven’t you? Killed a lot too, by the looks of it,” Letho replied drily and mercilessly.

“Goddammit! These bastards are resisting! Face yer fate!” The leader was still trying to justify his actions. “The revolution demands sacrifice!”

Letho spent not another second in this debate. Before anyone could do anything, he’d already drawn a sign with his right hand, then a red, triangular light shot itself into the leader’s eyes. A moment later, a scream of horror pierced through everyone, and another peasant clutched his stomach as he staggered backward in disbelief.

Standing before him was the peasant in the green leather hat — their arrogant leader. His eyes were dim, and he was holding a bloody sword, moving like a puppet.

“The witcher controlled the boss!” someone screamed.

“The boss killed Neil!”

As the peasants wallowed in their shock, Letho slowly unsheathed his steel sword instead of his short swords. The broad blade glinted coldly under the sun, and the witcher poised himself before rushing into the band of peasants. He was like a tiger jumping into a group of sheep.

Letho was superior in every way — strength, reflexes, battle skills, experience. The peasants were no match for him, and Letho became a killing machine. Wherever he went, screams and wails of terror followed. Chunks of meat and broken limbs flew everywhere, and crimson blood dyed the ground red. Roy could see nothing but brilliant scarlet.

As the sword swung along the cramped forest path, another scream was cut short, and Letho took another life away. The frightened peasants tried to scamper away, but they couldn’t outrun a Viper School witcher. Soon, the forest was filled with nothing but cries for mercy.

Roy froze up. He’d killed many creatures, but most of them were just animals. He’d never killed humans. But right before his very eyes, a group of humans were slaughtered before they could even resist. No matter how much the peasants cried for mercy, Letho showed them none. All he did was swing his sword, again and again, as if he was the grim reaper. He moved instinctively, not deigning to use his potions or signs.

Is this really the same guy who taught me herbology and crossbow skills? Is he really the same guy who hypnotized me every night so he could teach me meditation? Maybe this is how witchers work. They can kill both monsters and humans. Roy held his crossbow and took a deep breath. He parted his legs and lifted his arms, standing in the shooting pose he’d practiced many times.

One survivor managed to escape Letho’s massacre, but his face was bloodied. Even so, he looked hopeful — albeit crazed — as he ran toward Roy. “Capture him! Capture that boy! We can use him to blackmail the witcher! That’s the only way to live!”

He was already wobbling, but he did his best to stay on his feet, and he extended his trembling hand forward in an attempt to hold the boy by his neck. Just a couple o’ steps away, and he’s mine!

A bolt arced through the air, hitting the peasant square in the face. The peasant stumbled backward, looking up into the sky, and fell down with a thud, spread-eagled. Between his widened eyes lay a crossbow bolt that pierced through his skull.

‘EXP gained: 20. Level 2 (300/1000).’

Roy heaved a sigh and took another deep breath before reloading his crossbow and aiming in another direction.

***

The bloody massacre ended ten minutes later. Letho took out a blue cloth and wiped the blood off his sword. Roy sat beside him, inscrutable. His hair and clothes were drenched in blood. A long while later, Roy took a deep breath.

“Now do you see how low these lands have fallen? There is no right or wrong here,” Letho said coolly. “If we didn’t kill them all, trouble would’ve been waiting for us if any of them had managed to return to Aldersberg.”

Letho sighed after seeing Roy was still stunned. “I can smell blood on them. These peasants are no decent human beings. This is not the first time they’ve done this, and this is not the first time they’ve tried or killed someone. Does that make you feel better?”

“I’m fine. Just not used to it,” Roy answered. He showed no pity to those men. They didn’t show mercy to their victims.

“Good,” Letho praised. “Also, you shot decently. Shows you actually listen to me.”

Roy killed three injured peasants. He breathed according to the tempo he was taught, and the moment he was going to breathe heavier, Roy pulled the trigger. His shots were true, and every single one of them was a killing blow. He could have killed more, but he’d hesitated. It was Roy’s first time killing humans. He couldn’t be as calm as Letho.

One life was worth 20 EXP, the same as a drowner. Roy’s EXP was 340/1000 after killing three humans. This is ridiculous. So lives are the same for the character sheet? They’re just numbers and data?

***

A short while after the massacre, the pair moved the peasants’ bodies into a big hole in the forest. Letho then poured some oil on them and lit them up with Igni. It didn’t take long for the bodies to char. That was done to prevent any plagues from spreading in case any ghouls were attracted.

Letho took all the money the bandits robbed, which totaled a hundred crowns. Roy gained a lot of EXP and money in the kill, but he wouldn’t wish for another occurrence like that.

“You can get half of the spoils, including the drowner’s brain.” To Roy’s surprise, Letho gave him fifty crowns. “Lesson three: always share the spoils,” Letho told him solemnly. “If you don’t want to antagonize your partners after becoming a witcher, never let greed blind you.”

Roy was about to refuse. He had a bad feeling about the split, for he thought Letho was trying to tell him something else.

***

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