Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"Like I said, Geralt, there have been quite a few monsters in the sewers lately, and you really should be taking orders. This might help your wallet a little bit."

Hearing the advice from the dwarf, Geralt nodded absently.

Triss was a good woman, and the sorceress didn't want much, but Geralt was always buying her things she didn't need, out of guilt for saying the wrong thing. It seems that in the face of love, even witchers can become sluggish.

To put it simply, he has no money.

"Okay, Zoltan, I'll consider it. Any other suggestions?"

"There are no other suggestions, but I have heard a lot of rumors about the sewers recently. Would you like to hear it?"

"Of course, why not?"

Zoltan Ziva cleared his throat—it had been a month since their last crazy drunken trip, and the official had apparently realized he couldn't get the Tasting Society to stop drinking, so he lifted the ban. . The pub has reopened, and the 'Keg Drinking' business has been terrific.

Dwarves can greet drinkers from all over Vizima in the tavern every day, chat and brag. Therefore, there are also many sources of information, and it is true that the tavern is the best intelligence gathering place.

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, with a serious and wise expression, and said to Geralt deeply: "First of all, I should introduce you to a worthy lady, Geralt. She is with us. Vizima is very respected locally."

"Ms. Andrea, a sorceress who works pro bono at the San Rebidao Hospital. She's nothing like those sorceresses who smell of hellish magic perfume, if I tell you. She doesn't wear a low-cut top. , and don't show off her fancy dress. Ms. Andrea basically only wears a black robe."

There was respect in Zoltan's voice: "This lady has worked in San Rebido's Hospital for three years. During these three years, she has helped many poor people for free. She even prevented an outbreak of the Catriona Plague, If I say, our king should set up a memorial for her, something like the Andrea Bridge or the plaza, to honor her noble character."

Geralt wanted to tell Zoltan to get the point. When dwarves talk about the sky, they often don't keep their mouth shut. From astronomy to geography, from the breasts of prostitutes to the artistic cells of university professors, they can talk twice about everything. Of course it's good to listen to them when they have nothing to do, but now His main purpose is to figure out what's in the sewer...

However, Zoltan's progress has been pushed very quickly.

He got to the point right away.

"There is a guy from the temple area who often comes to me for drinks. Although he lives there, he is not bad. He is poor, but his clothes are clean every time he comes here. This guy went to the Sanctuary because of illness some time ago. Rebidao Hospital, he was lucky, there was blue smoke on his butt, and it was Ms. Andrea who treated him personally."

"My Iceberg Beauty Wife"

"In a few minutes, his cough and dizziness will be gone. My buddy thanked the lady so much and was about to leave when he heard Ms Andrea talking to another person."

"What did he hear?" Geralt's interest was hooked, and he had to admit that Zoltan was indeed a very clever narrator.

The dwarf shrugged: "I heard the lady yelling at another person, saying that the city government is a bunch of idiots, and the new law issued to allow 12-year-old girls to get married has led to a large group in the Temple of Meritelli. Abandoned baby. This is still in the hands of the priests, who knows how many will be abandoned in orphanages and sewers?"

"You mean the monsters in the sewers could be corpses?" the witcher asked cautiously.

"How would I know?"

Zoltan made a vulgar gesture: "I'm not a goddamn witcher, how do I know so much? That's your specialty, Geralt. Besides, I'm talking too much. I also think the city government people Brain problem.

Is this kind of law conceivable? Damn, what an idiot. "

The dwarf's mood also became agitated: "Although I know that you humans are not adults at the age of fifty-five like our dwarves, but—God damn it, twelve years old?"

He shook his head and said nothing more.

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"Prepare to go to the sewer, right? Ha, the water ghost hunter is finally going to return to his job." He Shenyan laughed and teased Geralt.

He knew early on that Geralt would find some particularly difficult commissions due to lack of money sooner or later. There was no way, it was the consensus of people in the world that the witcher couldn't save money. You can't ask a profession with its head in its belt to save all its money, after all, they're likely to go to the bank in the morning and die in the afternoon.

Who will spend the money then?

"Maybe it's not killing water ghosts this time." Geralt shook his head, sharpening his silver sword. "It's a corpse. However, according to Zoltan, I have reason to suspect that something more horrific may have existed in Vyzima's sewers long ago."

"More terrifying than those bat-winged demons?"

"You have no right to say that." Geralt suddenly laughed. "It wasn't me who broke them to pieces with my bare hands."

He Shenyan put down the book in his hand and put it on the coffee table, then lay back, leaning on the sofa and sighing comfortably.

He and Geralt temporarily rented an apartment in the Vizima trading area, and the mage paid for it, which kept Geralt from living on the streets. After he was kicked out of the house by the furious Triss, he has not been able to get the latter's forgiveness until now, and he complained about it in the tavern. For his behavior, He Shenyan can only say that he deserves it.

...talking about another woman in another woman's bed, tsk. It's a fortune that he's alive.

"Anyway, Geralt, be careful with everything." He Shenyan leaned on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, his tone illusory. "I instinctively felt that nothing good would happen this time..."

"How bad could it be? Could it be worse than that at the Bordeaux estate?"

"Who knows?"

"Then wish me luck." Geralt nodded at him, wiped his silver sword, and went out fully armed.

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"Very good, potions, sword oil... um, maybe I should bring some more alchemy bombs?"

Walking in the dark sewers, Geralt muttered to himself. When a person makes a commission, he will always say two words, which is also a small habit. As mentioned earlier, the sewers of Vizima are built on the ruins of the elven city, and this intricate and huge system is simply a living labyrinth.

The witcher would bet that even the designer who devised the existing sewer system in Vezima couldn't figure out how many underpasses there were. You know, gangsters like underground facilities the most.

"Hopefully there won't be any giant corpses or anything like that."

Geralt was joking about his own life, his boots stomping on the moss-covered stone bricks, making a slight stomping sound. This time, he was prepared for the stench, and he seemed to take it in stride.

He took some herbs in advance to ease his sense of smell. The city government's job required him to remove the 'monsters in the sewers', without asking for the type or price.

That's a good thing for Geralt, and it means he can get his hands on the ground—most people in the city have never seen a water ghost in their life, let alone a more terrifying-looking corpse. He estimated that he should be able to earn four hundred oren on this order.

The silver sword was already unsheathed, and Geralt walked cautiously along the edge, the sewage billowing from the drain pipe under his feet, and the noise of his footsteps was drowned out by the noise.

Corpse babies usually prefer places with no light, and if they are going out to hunt, they usually choose to go out at night. That's why Geralt chose to enter the sewers at noon, and it was impossible for them to leave the lair at that time.

It also gave him a chance.

He went straight along the road, and after some distance he encountered the first difficulty—four roads were in front of the witcher.

"People often say 'I'll give you three options', but I didn't think there was a fourth option today."

Out of intuition and his own preferences, Geralt chose the path on the far right. This road is shorter than the other three. It is a circular cave made of red bricks, dark and deep, and there is the sound of ticking water. The further in, the more sure the witcher was sure he was in the right place.

There is a peculiar smell of dead babies here.

Most of these creatures were born from unburied or abandoned infant corpses, which looked like half-rotting embryos. Hatred and wickedness drive their ugliness. Lambert, who is also a witcher of the wolf school with Geralt, once famously said that he was specially used to describe the corpse baby.

"To say that a corpse is ugly is like saying that shit is unpalatable. Although it is not a lie, it does not fully explain the truth."

Geralt whispered Lambert's words, and three purple runes were shining on the silver sword. He could almost smell their stink--and the hatred.

Abandoned hatred.

The witcher understood the feeling. When he knew he was abandoned by his parents, he had a similar resentment, but as he got older, he had long forgotten.

Or is it buried in the bottom of my heart?

Shaking his head, Geralt pushed this senseless emotion out of his heart.

His eyes looked up, and on the dirty ceiling in the sewer, there were more than a dozen infants that had not yet been formed, and their bodies exuded the stench of beasts. Suspended from the ceiling by their own umbilical cords, they instinctively chose to remain in their mother's belly, curling up and sucking their fingers.

With his left hand flexed, Yingni Fayin is ready to go. He wanted to directly drive the magic to burn most of them, and then use the silver sword to make up for them one by one. However, he heard an unfamiliar footstep.

what the hell?

The magic dissipated, and Geralt silently hid in the darkness. Dark vision allowed him to see the half-firing light coming from the passage in front of him. He saw a woman covered in dirt, with disheveled hair, and wearing a long, shabby, floor-length dress, walking slowly across the sewer.

She didn't have a torch, but she walked in such an environment with ease, even humming a song. She was unarmed, her hands folded in front of her belly, and she was graceful. But she was dirtier than a beggar.

This woman came to the corpse babies, raised her head and stared at them, brushed the long hair on her forehead, and her eyes were as gentle as she was watching her own children. She called softly, "Come on, children, it's time to eat."

what is she doing? ! are you crazy? !

Geralt looked at the scene in disbelief, and almost immediately wanted to save the mad woman, but the development of things once again exceeded his expectations.

The corpses did not harm her.

On the contrary, they woke up from their sleep and climbed up the woman's body with the icy temperature of the dead. She gently pulled out a knife and cut open her arm, and the blood gushed out, but the babies didn't move, even if they were monsters that fed on the blood of pregnant women.

"Eat it, child. It's alright." The woman looked at the corpse baby closest to her arm with tender eyes, raised her other hand and stroked its cold, sticky forehead. "If you eat enough, you will have strength, be healthy, and grow up."

So the corpse stuck out its tongue and started licking—then a second, a third. They swarmed up and licked her carefully. No fury of beasts, no instincts of monsters.

Geralt stared blankly at all these things in front of him. He didn't know if he was wrong, but he always felt that they seemed to be crying.

I'm either crazy or hallucinating. Geralt thought.

No second person in the world will believe what I saw, if I told Vesemir about it, he would definitely hunt me down with a sword and throw the monster book in my face for me Copy it again. I'm probably going to scold my level of storytelling for putting the witcher's expertise to shame.

But here's the crux of the matter - Geralt knew very well that he wasn't hallucinating.

His heartbeat was slow, there was no smell in his mouth, and his head was clear. The badge on the chest did not vibrate. He was not inhaling hallucinogenic substances, nor was he brought into hallucinations. What does this mean?

It means that everything he sees is real.

A huge sense of absurdity nearly knocked the witcher to the ground - for real? Is this really possible?

Babies are cursed creatures that feed on the blood of pregnant women. They crawl out of the nest late at night to the nearest pregnant woman's home, driven by a frantic hunger.

They lurk by a pregnant woman's bedside, draining her and her baby's life force while they are asleep. The victim had nightmares for the first few nights, followed by fever, hallucinations, and growing weakness.

After a few nights, she becomes too weak to protect herself. At this time, the corpse baby will take the initiative to attack, bite into the pregnant woman's body with its sharp teeth, and drink her blood until both mother and child die...

This is knowledge written in blood by countless witchers, and clearly recorded in the library of Kyle Morhan, The Book of Monsters, Part VIII, by Kelly of Milt. He remembered it clearly.

Hesitating again and again, he still took a step forward.