Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

The latest website: If you didn't see it with your own eyes, who would believe that this kind of thing really happened in Novigrad?

The night was illuminated by firelight, and half of the sky was illuminated red. War broke out in slums and shanty towns, and blood smeared the filthy ground, mixing it into a more eerie color.

Even more astonishing, in the war that has been going on for some time, no guards have responded.

As if they were already dead.

Are they dead?

of course not.

There are three barracks in Novigrad, one to the east, one to the west, and one near the bridge of St. Gregory. They have the time to react and the manpower to implement various rescue measures and control the situation, but they chose to stand by and watch.

Inside the barracks near the Bridge of St. Gregory, in the officer's office, Henrietta Moffrey Asa was looking out the window without saying a word.

His scarred face was worried. Anger, guilt and all kinds of emotions are intertwined on it. Coupled with the firelight that shot into the sky where he was staring, a horror painting that no artist could have imagined was naturally placed there.

Fine sweat dripped from his forehead.

"I'm going to hell for this," Henrietta muttered. "Maybe the devils in hell will hold a welcome ceremony for me when they see me."

Another person in the office replied to his self-deprecating tone in a relatively calm tone: "I'm afraid that ceremony was for me, Henrietta."

The speaker was Bach Jonas, Henrietta's boss.

In fact, he was the boss of all the city guards—he was the chief patrol officer. It was he who ordered that no one be allowed to participate in this war, not even to appear on the scene to protect those civilians who might be affected.

"I still don't understand why you gave such an order."

Henrietta turned around, her maroon eyes were wide open, full of intense puzzlement: "This is equivalent to letting the civilians who live among the scumbags die! I don't think they are waging war. There will be no regard for it, sir."

"You are right not to understand, Henrietta," Bach Jonas told him meaningfully. "And I hope you never understand."

with his hands behind his back,

Turn around. The silver armor on his body is still bright, but his tone is surprisingly low: "I've been in this position for thirteen years, Henrietta. If you want to ask, what have I learned from these thirteen years, I can only tell you one thing."

"what?"

"Never think you can actually live up to the oath you made on your first day in the army."

oath? Why did he suddenly mention this?

Henrietta Moffrey Asa, one of the three captains of the guards under Bach Jonas, the man known as 'Scarface' frowned at this time. At the same time, the oath began to echo in his heart.

"From today, I will dedicate my loyalty to the great king, I will be a guard, I will expel those who harm the city, I will protect the good, and I will always remember the oath."

His heartbeat stopped abruptly.

Henrietta meditated on the brief, recited oath, and found that loyalty to the king came before the protection of the good.

He watched in disbelief as Bach Jonas turned away, his clenched fists shaking.

"Your silence told me one thing, Henrietta," said Bach Jonas. "I think you should understand?"

"...No, I don't understand."

"I don't understand either, but that doesn't matter. Our thoughts are as irrelevant as the thoughts of prostitutes."

Bach Jonas' tone was still calm, as if he was narrating something that had nothing to do with him, which was surprising.

"Actually, Henrietta. I'll be pushed out by the mayor as a scapegoat after this. The next time we meet, maybe in a square. At that time, I'll take all the infamy and be punished by hang."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?"

Bach Jonas turned, eyes full of sorrow: "I'm telling you--Henrietta, the world is fucking sick, everyone is. The king who gave the order is sick, obey him The mayor he ordered is sick. The Swordsmen who came here to kidnap the population are sick, and so are the gangsters who are rooted here.”

"And us—ah, god damned gods! We are the sickest, because we are supposed to be the protectors of the people!"

He growled and filial piety: "If the gods really exist, a thunderbolt should be dropped now to choke us all to death!"

"One Sword"

Henrietta was also excited, and didn't even need a title: "Then why don't you try to resist? Since you know what's right and what's wrong, why don't you resist?!"

"Have you no family, Henrietta?"

Bach Jonas chilled Henrietta's whole body with a single sentence.

He said like a philosopher: "The world works so cruelly, Henrietta. And I've learned that the will of the individual cannot dictate the course of history. At least to kings, we're nothing. We just wipe. ass paper."

"Things aren't so bad, Bach Jonas. Excuse me, but I don't really want to call you Mr. You don't quite deserve that polite title."

A rational voice came in from outside the window.

Then, the glass began to vibrate. The flames inside the stove flickered, and the whole room creaked overwhelmed under some kind of pressure, as if someone was squeezing it with a hand outside.

Bach and Henrietta looked at the scene in front of them in horror. They looked at the gradually twisted wooden floor, the table that slowly disintegrated into sawdust, the shattered glass, and the flame that had begun to burn in the air—and then, They heard the voice again.

"You said that personal will cannot control the course of history, and I agree with you to a certain extent. Yes, it is true that personal will cannot resist your king, not one person, nor two people."

"Who are you?!"

Bach Jonas' voice echoed across the room, distorted almost to a scream. Henrietta, who was looking at him, stared at that expression, and realized—he probably meant to scream.

The voice did not answer the question: "Go against it, Bach Jonas. Your family will not be in any danger, neither will the guards' families. When you stop the war tonight with your men, you will find the Your dog-like mayor and city councillors will never again issue any orders against you to make you feel bad."

"The Blades will be wiped out, and the gangs won't be as rampant as they used to be. There are only two things you need to do, Bach Jonas. Get out of this room and stop the war."

"How can I believe what a person who doesn't even show his face says?!"

"You don't have to believe it," the voice said coldly.

A flame floated in front of Bach Jonas, and the flame was so small that it even made him feel like he would be blown out by the air he exhaled. However, it doesn't. It floated before Bach Jonas, and more—the flames gathered, the twisted house burnt to ashes in an instant.

Bach Jonas looked up and saw a man in a black robe floating in the air staring at him, his eyes flashing blue like shards of starlight.

He heard him say, "Just do it, Bach Jonas."

-------------------------------------

Geralt took a deep breath.

Then a second time.

the third time.

He didn't stop until his breathing completely slowed down and the beating heart in his chest gradually calmed down. He raised his hand and wiped the blood from his side cheek with a glove.

A man not far from him was trying to crawl away, leaving a long trail of tragic blood on the ground. Geralt looked at his crawling upper body, then at his lower body and the steaming pile of intestines a few steps away.

After a moment of silence, he walked over and raised his hand, ending his pain with the guy's scream.

Then the witcher let out a long sigh.

Beside him was a large mass of corpses, and all the twelve were dead, without exception. He ripped a rag from a bastard's corpse, sat on a stone by the side of the road and wiped his sword clean, then heard a crash.

Turning his head to look, sure enough, it was He Shenyan.

"I guess your plans to relax were interrupted?"

Geralt tried to smile despite the blood, and he made a small joke. He Shenyan came over and made a gesture.

Agitated by magic, a cloud of clear water appeared in front of Geralt. The witcher took off his gloves, stretched out his hand wearily, and took a handful, washing his face.

Killing twelve people is no easier than fighting a griffin.

The clear water was dyed the color of blood and gradually turned scarlet. Geralt exhaled and looked left and right, and the witcher laughed when he saw the flames.

"what are you laughing at?"

Geralt did not answer directly, but chose to tell a story.

"It's not my 'first', Ho. It's not the first time I've had this kind of shit."

There was a sigh in his voice, and, of course, something else.

"I met it more than ten years ago. In 1249, a minister of Povis launched a coup. Countless innocent people were killed for no reason in this coup. He failed, and the king's faction gained The ultimate victory. I was there until the end, and I was wounded in the coup because I wanted to protect an innocent family."

"I stayed there for another fortnight, until the king issued a... announcement? Anyway, it was quite official, huh."

The witcher said softly: "The king called those who died innocently 'the accomplices of the shameless', I think he said that because the situation was too chaotic at the time, and some of his men also killed some civilians. Relationship."

"Anyway." Geralt spread his hands. "Civilians are nothing in the eyes of the king, just consumables. The world has always been like this... I've given up hope. Soldiers haven't appeared yet, which is really amazing."

"This time may be different, Geralt."

He Shenyan raised his head, stared at the red sky illuminated by the fire, and nodded slowly.