The Divine Hunter

"Whoosh-"

A crossbow arrow hits a poacher in the head.

He charged ahead, closest to the witcher.

However, this accessible distance turned into an insurmountable gap.

Anger, and fear all solidified on the big face covered with fleshy flesh.

He fell back hard.

"Whoosh-"

The second poacher shot an arrow in the neck, let out a howl like a beast, bent down and knelt to the big iron pot on the bonfire, and smashed a pot of leftovers.

While others surrounded, swords, axes, and mace swirled loudly.

The witcher with the long sword moved forward instead of retreating.

"Shuh-"

Facing a sharp sword stabbing his chest, he turned extremely nimbly, and easily avoided the blade.

Guvihir turned with him, drawing a just-right semicircle in front of the man, breaking through the fragile flesh.

The man seemed to automatically send it to the blade, clutching the rectangle between his neck and squirting blood softly, and the blood stained the grass red.

The second man swung a mace and smashed him in the side of the face.

The witcher shrunk sharply, and slashed from the bottom up like a thunderous sword. The blade swept through the windy mace, pierced the gap in the man's armor, and pierced into his armpit.

"Tick tock..."

The blood dripped down the blade and pooled at the witcher's feet, staining his boots red.

Accumulate more and more.

Soon, the blood on the ground seemed to be instantly ignited by some substance.

A rich blood-colored flame rose up, covering the witcher's boots, leggings, and gray-black flying lion monster armor, twisting and condensing as if full of life.

The several poachers who came from the siege were shocked, and their eyes widened as if they had been immobilized—

Scarlet tentacles, growing piece by piece, with suckers hanging from the wrist and abdomen,

There was a trace of black aura in the blood-colored flames that were burning around him.

It snuggled up behind the witcher, swaying in the wind, like a loyal guard, the surrounding space was filled with invisible ripples like water waves, and the suction cups on its wrists were like swaying wind chimes.

Ding bell, ding dong.

A vibrato that spreads pain and fear.

The strange sound desperately drilled into his mind.

The unforgettable past is tumbling wildly.

There was an uncontrollable panic in the hearts of everyone.

The arm holding the weapon trembled.

Can't help but step back and move slowly.

And Roy jumped into the hesitant crowd.

The tentacles in the air cling to his front and back, moving at a high speed among the crowd at an unparalleled speed.

The long sword broke.

The blood-colored tentacles made a charging attack, obeying his orders, and immediately rolled towards the target pointed by the sword.

Coiled to the death!

The huge gap in will makes the recruits unable to resist and unable to move.

The brain trembles in fear!

The tentacles rolled wildly.

And Guvihir, bathed in bloody flames, gleamed and sang.

This is a blood song written with a sharp sword as light as a feather, and the torso and limbs can't stop its edge.

Hot blood sprayed onto the circulating Quinn Seal.

The witcher has no time to wipe.

Breathing, swinging the sword.

ten seconds.

Lie with corpses under his feet.

"call-"

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and waved it casually. The crimson talisman in his palm shot out Igni Rage, dragging the dazzling fire, hitting a man who was fleeing.

The thin leather armor and brown hair were dyed with flames, and the man whimpered and rolled on the ground, exuding the smell of meat.

"Bang!" The witcher in the center of the pile of corpses and the pool of blood swung a sharp sword and swung a shot arrow.

Dark Gold's pupils locked onto the last enemy.

A guy who is pulling strings and setting arrows.

A tall, fit woman.

The witcher ran towards her in a few steps.

Regardless.

The gray feather arrow was directly bounced off by the Quinn on the body.

Knowing that there was no escape, she dropped the bow and arrow, gritted her teeth, pulled out the short blade on her belt, and rushed towards the man.

The two figures hurriedly interlaced.

The dagger was knocked into the air.

The sharp, unmolded Guvihir, especially with blood temperature, was placed on the woman's neck and cut through the skin.

An intuition forced the witcher to withdraw.

"Don't, don't kill me!"

"I'm not a poacher!" the woman shouted, raising her hands, her cheek muscles twitching, her face showing fear for the first time since the fight, "I'm not with them! I swear!"

"You just started."

Dark gold pupils swept across her body indifferently, the witcher asked solemnly.

Maria Baring

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Occupation: Hunter

...

"I...I did it last, because I, I had to, I was so scared..." she stammered, facing the man who looked younger and handsome than herself, "I had hallucinations, I Saw a scary thing...hiding behind you! Tentacles, like octopus tentacles!"

"It's still there! It's still moving!"

With a flick of Roy's wrist, Guvihir returned to the scabbard.

Almost at the same time, the fearful vision vanished.

The woman let out a long sigh of relief and collapsed to the ground in cold sweat.

Roy began to look at her seriously, a rather beautiful young woman, or girl.

The light gray shirt and shorts showed her toned curves, her legs were slender and sturdy because of regular exercise, and there was no fat.

Skin has a healthy tan.

Thick long hair tied in a ponytail at the back of the head, pointed chin, high nose bridge, big brown eyes, exudes a kind of wild beauty.

The girl noticed that the witcher's gaze was not laced with uncontrolled sex like most men.

But she still couldn't help shrugging her shoulders.

At the same time, I prayed from the bottom of my heart that the victor would open up and forgive a poor prisoner.

"I won't kill you for the time being. Let me ask you one thing, have you ever seen a pair of human-shaped stone sculptures, about the length of their arms..."

The woman pursed her lips and hesitated for a moment - the supernatural means shown by the man she had never heard of before - like a sword dance for killing, a hot fireball, a terrifying tentacle.

She was powerless to resist.

She decided to answer honestly.

"Statue? Do you mean a man and a woman, the man is handsome and the woman is beautiful?"

"Exquisite craftsmanship, not inferior to real people."

"Then... I have seen it before," the woman's pale green pupils glanced at the tent of Bai Baihe. "Boss Suad is like a treasure. He should take it out every day and show it off."

"I'll take you to find it!"

Two minutes later, the witcher got what the coral craved from the cockscomb's tent.

A lifelike emerald beauty, reflecting lustrous green light, a male stone sculpture carved from basalt, cold and rough.

Roy felt the light and vibrating pendants between his necks, and thoughtfully put them close to him.

He turned to the nervous woman.

"Now tell me, what's your name? Since you're not in the same group as scalp hunters, why are you hanging out with them?"

"Maria Baring... a hunter," she said. "I just got in touch with this team a week ago, and I didn't even know them well. I was forced to stay in the team by them and had to cooperate a few times, together I hunted some small animals." She paused and asked cautiously,

"What do you mean by scalp hunter?"

"Do you really not understand, or are you pretending to be confused? Several kings of the surrounding countries have offered bounties to Blok Leon's Dryad. You've never heard of it?" Stubborn and timid looking at each other.

"These guys live off the bounty, harass Blok Leon, and shave the dryad scalp!"

"I have nothing to do with them!" The girl clasped her hands together, she thought the witcher was coming to avenge the dryad, and shouted, "I swear, I never hurt the dryad! Please let me go!"

She shrank back, the witcher's eyes like knives.

It made her seem to be naked and extremely uncomfortable.

"Maria, where are you from, you don't dress like the people around you, and you don't have an accent."

"I'm... from Upper Sowden."

"Where did you learn to shoot arrows?" Roy raised his eyebrows a little, "I have to say, your arrows were fast and accurate just now. If you change to an ordinary soldier, I'm afraid that if you can't walk in front of you, you will be attacked by your gray feathers. The arrow pierced through."

"My father taught me...he used to be a forest ranger." She lowered her head, her shoulders trembled slightly, sad and a little scared, "but he died, and I had to find a way to earn money to support myself, but I didn't know how to read or write. Other skills can only be a hunter... I heard that Brock Leon's prey is inexhaustible."

"So here I am."

"The prey is not just wild animals." Roy added in his heart,

With your appearance, isn't it easier to support yourself by marrying than by hunting?

He rubbed his chin and circled around the girl who was silent—

From Upper Sorden, his father was a ranger, his name was Maria Baring, and he was about his age and appearance.

The witcher drew an Axifa seal with five fingers, and confirmed it again through hypnosis.

Wait for the girl to come back to her senses.

His eyes softened quietly.

He can now basically confirm the identity of the other party-during the Second Northern War, an important member of Geralt's girl-hunting team, the shooter Maria Barin.

A woman who cares about love and justice, but also a poor woman.

Even though she was pregnant, she still insisted on assisting Geralt to find Ciri, who was bumpy and displaced, but she lost her child due to overwork and miscarriage.

Later, he also gave up the retention of a noble man who was in love with him.

And at the end of the journey, in the raid on Styggar Castle, Maria ushered in her final fate.

A good bowman dies with an arrow.

Be one of the three victims.

Roy felt a little sigh in his heart. According to his opinion, the other party was undoubtedly a legend.

The experience of the future is sobering.

It's just that he is young and ignorant now and has not yet grown up.

Brock Leon's dryad has never captured her, and she has not yet reached a contract with the dryad queen Aisna as a human, and began a tragic career as a traitor.

The witcher looked again at the nervous, awed, curious face.

Since she will help Geralt and Ciri.

"You are not a scalp hunter, but you cannot deny that you are their companion. Don't you want to avenge them?"

"I can't wait to poison their pots! Then sneak away!" Maria's eyes flashed with hatred, and she said sharply, "This is a group of rotten people with pus from the soles of their feet. She's a stupid girl from the countryside, she can pinch her butt at will, she's frivolous!"

"If it wasn't for their boss enjoying the process of taming the 'Raging Horse'..." She lowered her head, lingering fear, "I'm afraid I would have turned into a corpse."

The witcher glanced at her, confirming that the fear in her eyes was not hypocritical, "Since you didn't hunt dryad scalps, and you didn't kill innocent humans...you go."

Maria didn't move.

At such a life-threatening moment, based on her experience of wandering around, she should have left decisively and never asked a single word more.

But her feet seemed to be filled with plaster, and she couldn't move.

The man in front of her was younger than her, but suddenly appeared in an irresistible gesture, killing all scalp hunters cleanly.

But at the last moment, she casually bypassed her life.

Such a contradictory behavior, as if a fire was burning in her chest.

The flame named Curiosity sprouted and thrived uncontrollably.

"You, who are you, what is your name? Can you tell me?"

"Roy, I'm also a hunter like you... but usually only hunt scum and evil monsters, don't ask about the rest."

"Finally a piece of advice for you, Brock Leon is in danger and not so easy to mess with - it's better not to go in again."

Roy whistled.

Golphin Parrot descended from the sky, into the hood behind his head.

The witcher strode around and left. As for the inheritance of the scalp hunters, they were all left to the girl.

Maria Balin stood in the camp full of corpses, staring at the man's back, holding her beloved longbow in a daze.

There was a strong premonition in my heart that I would see you later.

There will be a chance to meet this mysterious man again.