Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

A farmer was shocked to see the collapse of the dilapidated but still imposing manor. He leaned on his hoe with a dull expression: "Gods are above! This... What's going on?"

His companions also looked at the scene that could be called earth-shaking and mountain-shaking, but they were not as shocked as he was, and just said indifferently: "What's the matter with us? Then plant your land."

Having said that, he waved his hoe to continue the hard work. Behind them, a strong man with flaxen hair saw this scene, let out a desperate scream, and ran towards the manor. The first farmer looked at his back and became even more puzzled: "Where is the weirdo? Isn't Bordeaux only one daughter left..."

His companion nudged him impatiently: "Why do you care about all this? Can you feed your kids tonight? If you keep watching, tonight your wife should make you go to the barn. Go to sleep!"

When it came to his wife, he immediately lowered his head and started to work, but the corner of his eyes was still staring at the collapsed manor.

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"Cough cough..." Geralt woke up coughing, his already sore body was now even more miserable. He clearly felt the blood on his face. Fortunately, his ribs were not injured, and there should be no major problems with the internal organs. The witcher's night vision ability allows him to see things in the dark. Quietly in the collapsed ruins, he turned his neck with difficulty and found that there were just two wooden boards above his head forming an angle, allowing him to survive. .

But what about that girl?

Geralt coughed again, his hoarse voice resounding in the ruins: "Anyone?!"

No one answered.

Geralt licked his dry lips, and with what little energy he had left, he gave himself a Quinn that was too weak to be weak, and then began to crawl forward with darkvision. The sword was gone, and the hand crossbow didn't know where it was thrown. Fortunately, this dragon leather armor was not lost, although it was no longer glowing with a flickering red light. He crawled through the ruins with difficulty, and after dozens of meters, a small breach appeared in front of him, and a beam of light shot down through the breach.

He pinched Alder with his right hand without a glove, and his telekinesis instantly blew away the ruins at the entrance of the hole. Fragments flew with wood chips, and a beam of sunlight shone on the witcher's face, causing him to squint involuntarily.

Geralt crawled out slowly, standing with difficulty, glancing around in the sunlight. This once grand manor is now only a ruin, with broken wood and rubble, and those crows have disappeared. He limped and knelt down after walking two steps. He vomited a mouthful of dark black viscous blood. It was also filled with scalding heat, but the wood was corroded and hissed.

There was a double image in front of him, and the witcher clearly remembered that he had entered the manor at noon, and now it looked like it was early morning. Obviously, there was a big problem with his perception in the manor, and his perception of time became even more blurred. The witcher pressed against his chest, breathing hard like a broken bellows.

"Cough—" He coughed hard again, followed by a burst of retching, as if to spit out everything in his body. After this, he felt better. Geralt raised his head. He knew that the only thing that could save him now was the white honey on the radish saddlebag. After drinking this potion, he could clearly understand the effects of all the potions he drank before—including the toxicity.

But with such a big news of the collapse of the manor, the radish probably ran far away. Geralt lay down. He wanted to make himself comfortable for the last days of his life, at least without pain. The sun hit his face, and he closed his eyes, feeling a burst of peace.

Until a voice called him softly: "Sir...Mister...Wake up!"

He struggled to open his eyes, never feeling this small movement so laborious.

Geralt saw the dark-haired girl who had pushed open the door gently pushing his head, and the witcher said impatiently, "Let me be quiet for a while... okay? Please, just a moment. ..."

He closed his eyes again, as if he was about to die. But he heard some movement in the next second, he did not know where the strength came from, he pushed the girl away, and a wooden stick hit the place in front of her. The witcher looked up, and a man with flaxen hair was grinning and spit at him. It just hit him in the face, and the guy chuckled twice: "It's you... it's because of you!"

Geralt was sure that he had never seen this man, but his hatred was genuine, as if he wanted to slash a witcher with a thousand knives and eat raw flesh. He swung the stick, and this time, the witcher had no strength to dodge any longer, and he could only endure the heavy blow.

The man was very strong, and the stick was so powerful that it was about to hit the witcher on the head, but it didn't work as it should. A thin layer of yellow shield disappeared after the sound of breaking glass. The man was shattered by the too strong reaction force, and the wooden stick fell to the ground. A few drops of blood from his hands fell on the witcher's leather armor.

Seeing this scene, the man became even more angry. He grabbed the weak white-haired witcher and punched him in the nose. The blood of the two was mixed and flowed downstream. The man didn't stop, he kept punching the witcher in the face like a beast, one punch, two punches, three punches. Punch to punch, Geralt spat out a posterior molar, an ugly smile spread across his face.

"You... idiot."

Great red light.

On the witcher's leather armor, those exquisite patterns lit up again, illuminating the profile of his face in flickering light and dark. Geralt grinned, his weak body regaining strength. He shoved the man away, and the force made him fall to the ground. Geralt didn't hesitate, he pounced, the yellow cat's eyes were already stained with a bit of scarlet. The speed of the scarlet light of the leather armor is getting faster and faster, just like his heartbeat and bloodthirsty desire.

The witcher bit off the man's ear in one bite, and in the midst of his screams, he clasped the man's face with both hands, and pressed his thumb down his eyes, pressing down hard.

He screamed, writhing frantically on the ground, waving his arms and kicking his thighs, trying to get the witcher to leave his body. But Geralt had almost lost his mind at this point, he just wanted more blood, anyone's.

"Blood--!"

The witcher roared the word, looking more monster than monster now. Before, the man had punched him a lot, and now, it was Geralt's turn. It's just that his fist is much heavier than a man's.

The first fist broke the man's mouth and knocked out several of his teeth. The second punch landed on the bridge of the nose, between the surging blood, Geralt had a cruel smile on his face that he didn't realize, grabbed the man's chin with both hands, and pressed his upper jaw with the other. The hands suddenly burst into force.

Lena Bordeaux, who covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming, could swear to the gods that this was the cruelest death she had ever seen. The man's jaw was ripped open by the witcher's brute force, his jaw was thrown aside like a piece of trash by Geralt, and his tongue was torn out.

When he finally lost his breath, the blood-covered witcher's face shone with flickering red light, and he turned his head and smiled at Lena Bordeaux. The blood interlaced with his white teeth in a horrific painting.