The Divine Hunter

Under the bloody moonlight, the two witchers faced each other three meters apart in the open space in front of the gate of the villa.

Roy cat arched his back, touched the ground lightly with the soles of his forefoot, paced counterclockwise, and the tip of the sword of the lake girl locked on the shadow on the opposite side like a shadow.

This time, the enemy seemed to possess a certain level of intelligence. Instead of rushing towards him recklessly, he imitated the general circle around the witcher. The movements of holding the sword, the frequency of footsteps, and the posture of his body were surprisingly consistent with him.

Two people standing opposite each other, like reflections and entities inside and outside the mirror.

Roy looked at the other self with a sense of absurdity in his heart.

Is this the final gift O'Dim prepared for him? How much power can the clone master, he was very curious, did he receive it like a shapeshifter?

Hot sweat oozes from his forehead and palms.

The next moment, Roy clenched the hilt of the sword with his right hand, and his left hand suddenly drew an orange triangle in mid-air, and the crimson fire column shot out of the magic circle, burning the shadow's body.

The shadow made a movement almost simultaneously, and an Igni seal returned with color.

"puff--"

Both fiery snakes hit the enemy, "Boom, Boom", and the Kun's magic shield protecting the body was shattered one after another. Roy took a step to the side, threw off a pinch of black hair that was scorched on his temples, and then shot like a cannonball. Collide with the shadows fiercely.

The witcher had the first opportunity to attack.

Perhaps Sombra's spirituality is not perfect enough, and the response is slow to the front line. Arrondette in the witcher's hand first draws a silver arc from bottom to top, and slashes towards Sombra's chest!

A little spark splashed in the air, and the black shadow blocked the incoming long sword beautifully and quickly, and the power from the sword was equal.

But Roy changed his moves first, turned his wrist, and Arrondette pressed against the dark ridge of the sword, slid up and cut off a right ear in an instant.

Dispersed into the air, turned into black smoke.

Pain distracts most people.

But Sombra felt no pain, no hesitation in his movements, and Alder pushed back against the exhausted witcher, then jumped forward with a bowed leg, and stabbed him in the throat with a thrust.

Roy focused on his left toe and rotated his body like a spinning top.

It is then cut into thorns and pointed at the enemy's chest.

"Chong!"

The black sword firmly resisted the silver sword, entangled in a ball, and slowly turned clockwise.

Cascades of sparks poured out from between the spinning blades, like a working steel "grind."

"Chong!"

The blades separated, and the two figures quickly intertwined again, swinging, blocking, dodging, and fighting dozens of times.

There are no fancy tricks, the tricks are deadly, and the sword stabs at the key points of the whole body.

A series of metal friction and impact, harsh gas explosions.

The witcher turned around again to avoid Sombra's swung blade, growled lowly, and stabbed at Sombra's neck fiercely. The black sword in the latter's palm drew a semicircle, swayed his attack, and slashed toward his lower abdomen.

Roy jumped back helplessly, gasping for breath.

The dripping sweat dyed his face, chin, and neck brightly, his black hair was soaked, and the steam was steaming.

In just one minute of fighting, the physical consumption is beyond imagination.

The clone created by Odim not only has the same physical quality as him, but also inherited the fighting consciousness, on-the-spot reaction, and some habits between actions, so he can easily judge all the attacking intentions of the witcher.

Of course, Roy also had insight into the pattern of his sword use.

The two sides are like old acquaintances who have played against each other hundreds of times.

This is the last thing he wants to see, there is not much time left, and a quick decision must be made.

Thinking of this, the witcher gritted his teeth and simply gave up his defense. He leaned forward and rushed into the shadow of the shadow. The tip of the sword trembled, and he stabbed it diagonally.

The latter didn't dodge the death-defying sword, his right abdomen was pierced, but he didn't flinch, and pierced Roy's thigh with a wound-for-wound sword.

Warm blood splashed out, and for a moment, both swords were stuck in the wound.

The bodies of the two mortal enemies are almost stuck together!

Dark gold's pupils flashed blood!

Stunned!

Countless bloody shots entangled Sombra's body, it was fixed in place, but the pupil did not change - even if it copied most of the witcher's abilities, it couldn't copy the template optimization skills.

Victory is decided!

Arrondette pulled out his wound and swung horizontally like lightning.

"Shh-"

The black shadow separated its head, turned into a puff of smoke, and dissipated in the air.

"Kill Roy (pseudo), experience +180, I won the witcher... Fakes are fakes!" An ugly smile appeared on Roy's cheeks distorted by the pain.

He's in extremely bad shape.

There were several pits in the armor of the flying lion monster that protected the waist and abdomen. Without looking at him, he knew that the skin inside the armor was definitely covered with blue-purple blood.

A slight touch is a burning stinging pain that penetrates deep into the bone marrow.

The witcher whimpered and spat out a mouthful of blood. The shards of flesh and blood were clearly visible, and even the internal organs suffered heavy damage.

But he couldn't stop, the end was just around the corner.

Ten minutes left.

"activation!"

A trace of coolness enveloped the body, and most of the minor injuries dissipated in an instant.

The witcher barely supported his crumbling body, shredded his underwear and tied the piercing wound on his thigh tightly. Using Arrondette as a crutch, dragging his injured thigh, he staggered open the door of the villa like a drunk.

The interior of the villa is far less refined and luxurious than it looks outside, like the living room on the first floor of a popular tavern, with several tables, tableware, and several cabinets.

A candle was lit on each table, and the dim candlelight illuminated a sloping staircase in the center of the hall.

Without a second thought, the witcher dragged his heavily injured body down the stairs and entered a dark and narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor, a diamond-shaped full-length mirror with brass trim came into view.

"Stroking and playing can make you lose your mind, but no attack can hurt me."

The Roy chanted aloud,

"The children are happy when they see me, the elders are afraid of me, and the girls keep their eyes on me."

"You can speak, and so can I; but you have a voice, and I am silent, and have my lips open and closed."

"If you cry, I cry too, if I yawn, I follow someone, and I smile too when I show my teeth..."

Roy walked to the middle of the corridor and stared at the mirror,

"Imitate my movements, show my appearance, the answer is the reflection in the mirror. Gaunt O'Dimm, are you hiding here?"

"Hahahaha..." Odim's frantic laughter echoed in the corridor. Suddenly, the witcher only felt that his feet were empty, and the entire floor dented and collapsed in an instant, and he leaked to the ground floor.

Never see the mirror at the end of the corridor again!

"Man, although your current situation is pitiful, you don't really think it's that simple, do you?"

The witcher gritted his teeth and climbed up from the dust and gravel ruins, his expression still calm, and he didn't seem to be sad about the lost mirror.

He had expected it, and walked along the underground corridor to the outside, a square behind the villa.

There is a broken wall and the square tiles covering the ground are weathered and covered with thick dust and mottled scratches. The floor in the center seems to have been ravaged by an earthquake, breaking a bottomless crack.

Around the square, three spiral staircases connect the three tall towers. The witcher could vaguely see the mirrors in the tower, not just one, but several.

He tried to drag the injured body to chase the nearest side, but when the mirror was within reach, it shattered.

Gaunt O'Dim, who was hiding somewhere, played a trick and kept sneering complacently, "Hahahaha, I got another point!"

Roy changed direction silently and came to the fountain pool in the center of the square. The pool had long since dried up, and a bright red mirror stood in the center.

As expected, when his hand almost touched the mirror, the mirror shattered into sand again.

"Witcher, do you feel your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier, and you feel the taste of despair? Give it up, so that you can get rid of it sooner."

"You can shatter glass," Roy growled into the air, "but there is always a mirror you can't break!"

"Then look for it carefully, maybe you can find it..."