The Divine Hunter

Slowly, the sun was setting on Marnadal. Dusk fast approached, robbing the air of its warmth. The lands of Marnadal were turned into a hellscape. Tattered and covered in blood. Even the skies looked crimson.

Vizima's soldiers were on the left flank, but they fell. Even though they fought valiantly, the overwhelming numbers still engulfed them. A crack appeared in the wall of shields, but no new soldiers came to fill it up. The Nilfgaardian troops charged into that opening, surrounding the injured soldiers and claiming their lives.

One by one, the infantry units howled in agony. The last sound they made before losing their lives. The southern soldiers went after the soldiers on the slopes, who were alone and without reinforcements. But most of the southern troops circled the mountain, attempting to surround the army of Cintra.

The war horn of Cintra could no longer produce its reinvigorating sound, and the troops had gone far beyond their limits. No more reinforcements would come, but the southern troops could still go on.

***

Triss could only watch as the soldiers around her fell. It didn't take long until the corpses of her comrades were surrounding her. She was worse for wear as well. Blood trickled down her lips, and a bruise covered her face. Her body was trembling, sweat drenching her shirt and hair.

Only two crossbowmen were escorting her. Desperately, they tried to make their way to the king, but then a southern troop showed up, the soldiers sneering. They stared at Triss like she was their prey. A prey ready to be gobbled up. And the troop changed directions. Now they set their sights on her.

The crossbowmen who were escorting her felt a surge of pain coming from their backs. They let out a grunt of pain and fell forward. Triss gritted her teeth. She turned around and passed a bolt of electricity between her hands before shooting it at the incoming soldiers.

The horses trembled the moment they were hit by electricity, and the rider was hurled down to the ground. The remaining knights swiftly went around their comrade and closed in on Triss. She tried to cast another spell, but a howl escaped her lips, and she fell back down. Blood once again trickled down her lips. Her magic backfired on her.

The consecutive casting of spells in this battle was finally taking a toll on her. No longer will mana listen to her. It was all she could do to push herself up. She felt a gust of wind coming at her, and the sorceress closed her eyes in fear.

But the pain didn't come. No matter how long she waited, the pain just didn't come. So Triss opened her eyes. For some reason, the knights who were trying to attack her were sliced in half. Even their horses were cut up as well. The cut was clean, and what remained of the knights were still, in a bizarre and horrifying way, alive. Though that didn't stop them from howling in agony. The slash showed no mercy.

A lean figure in tattered clothes leapt into the air and kicked the last knight off his horse so he could take over. And then he cast a Sign to the mount. That calmed the struggling animal. It even licked the witcher's hand like he was its master.

"Witcher? What brings you to the battlefield?" Triss recognized the Sign. It was Axii. She wondered what a witcher was doing here.

The witcher turned around. His face was covered in blood, dust, and wounds, but she’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He was the one who saved her from the clutches of a higher vampire.

"Roy?" The sorceress' jaw dropped in surprise, but her voice was barely a whisper. She sounded like a terminal patient.

Roy waved at her and rode over to the sorceress. She could smell the stench of sweat and blood coming from him, but Triss extended her hand, and he pulled her up to the horse's back.

"Hold tight," he said curtly.

And Triss wrapped her arms around him. She felt her heart thumping furiously, and a sense of safety welled within her. The sorceress rested her head on his back, listening to his heartbeat. He saved me again. Perhaps this is fate, she thought. This is no coincidence.

Roy took a break after killing the mages. He then hopped back into the battlefield to search for Erland, but he failed. Not only that, but he also lost contact with Jerome. He tried to call him many times, but he found nothing.

The witcher spent the whole afternoon scouring the battlefield. A few times he even tried to teleport into the fray, but the moment he landed, the soldiers around him would rain down attacks, forcing him to retreat. "Dammit, Jerome. At least talk to me!" Roy didn't want to die. There were a lot of people back home waiting for him. He had no choice but to retreat. And then he remembered seeing Triss on the battlefield.

But she shouldn't be here! Dammit, the course of history changed because of my meddling. Roy wouldn't let the potential resident mage for the brotherhood die, so he came.

The horse neighed. Roy held the reins with his right hand and cast Quen over their heads with his left. The golden shield covered them and reflected three arrows. They then rushed all the way to where Eist was.

***

"Your Majesty, Your Highness."

"Speak."

"We've sustained heavy losses. Jan Natalis died in battle, and so did Kurian. Vizima's troops have been annihilated, and our troops can't hold on much longer. We must retreat, Your Lordships," Vissegerd said grimly. "The last of our troops will ensure your safety. We'll hold the enemy off until you and the queen have returned to Cintra. And we must do it right now. If the southerners manage to surround us, there will be no escape for any of us!"

Eist teared up and shivered, his fists balled up. He could still hear his soldiers screaming and howling. His men were still fending off the Nilfgaardians, but they couldn't hold the line much longer. And yet Eist shook his head. "I told you we were no cowards. If I ran away here, I would have let all my warriors down. Time for me to die for my kingdom."

Calanthe said nothing. She breathed heavily and held her husband's arm.

"No, no, no! No, Your Majesty!" Vissegerd kept trying to persuade Eist to leave. His eyes were becoming bloodshot. "You're not running away! You need to go back. Cintra's people need you! Skellige's reinforcements will arrive soon. With their help, at least we can still defend the kingdom. But they need the heart and soul of the kingdom. Your Majesty, think about it. These Nilfgaardians are cold, cruel bastards. Should Cintra fall to them, your people would be subjected to untold horrors. Pardon me for this, but if you decide to charge ahead so you can 'face your brethren,' that'd be nothing but cowardly."

Eist stayed silent for a long time. Eventually, he nodded.

***

A great fireball slammed into the lines of Cintra's infantry, destroying it. The incredible heat burned the soldiers, charring their skin. Their armor turned into ovens, cooking their wearers until they died.

Finally, the last line of defense was broken. A southern knight broke past the line, and the Cintran soldiers tried to stop him, but they were engulfed by the other Nilfgaardian knights.

The line fell. The knight shot an arrow straight at Eist's head. Before anyone could react, Eist had fallen from his horse. He shook his head for a moment, and clarity returned to his eyes. There was a dent in his helm, however. Since the witcher told him he would die from an arrow, Eist made it a point to always wear sturdy armor and a sturdier helm.

Some of his personal guards charged toward the knights. Metal clashed, and they managed to bring down some of the cavalry. But then more Nilfgaardian knights came.

"Eist, we need to leave." A plea filled the queen's eyes. Eist heaved a sigh and got onto the back of his horse. Under the escort of Vissegerd and a group of ten knights, the rulers of Cintra quickly left the valley's pass.

The sun was quickly setting, but a group of horses were galloping through the wilderness, dust clouds forming behind them. A group of two dozen knights had given chase, their targets the rulers of Cintra. Apparently, they recognized Calanthe and Eist, and they would do anything to claim the lives of these two.

The knights held their reins with one hand and reloaded their crossbows with the other. Bolts zipped through the air as the knights kept firing at the escaping Cintrans. One by one, the knights who escorted the rulers fell, and they took down two of the pursuers with them.

But now, the backs of Eist, Calanthe, and Vissegerd were exposed to their pursuers. Their cloaks billowed, and their lives were on the line.

But then one of the knights had his head shot. A burst of blood spurted into the air, and he fell. Before anyone realized what was going on, another knight fell in the same way. A terrifying roar pierced the air, and everyone's heart sank. Even Calanthe turned around.

Two blinding arcs of electricity flew through the air. One passed through the pursuers, while the other came straight from the skies. Three more knights were hit, and they fell from their mounts, electricity jumping on their helms.

Finally, the pursuers noticed the threat that was behind them. He was a man in tattered clothes. His eyes were wild, and his face was bloodied. Yet he grinned at them toothily, and the Nilfgaardian horse he was riding charged straight at them. The witcher was alone, but he was determined to hunt these bastards down.

Another smirk curled his lips, and he raised his hand. The witcher pulled the trigger, a bolt flying through the air. The bolt found itself buried in the eye of a knight, and he was sent flying through the air.

Shocked by the witcher’s impeccable archery, they trained their crossbows on him, but alas, it was useless. Three bolts were deflected by his golden shield and the witcher tilted his head to dodge another one, but one pierced his right arm. Yet the witcher ignored the pain. The bolt didn't even make him wobble.

Triss held him tighter, however.

The sun was almost fully set, the air itself turning chilly. Yet the chasing game still persisted. Twelve pursuers remained. They kept going after the Cintran rulers and shooting at the maniac behind them.

Another knight fell. Then a furious roar came raining down from the heavens. A griffin the size of a buffalo appeared from nowhere. Every time it flapped its wings, a gale would stir. Its eyes glinted with ferocity. The ferocity of a predator ready to hunt.

It flew through the knights, slamming three of them out of its way. The impact made them roll around like high-speed tops, and then they stopped moving. The winds were blowing against Gryphon's cheeks, and it picked up a fourth knight only to toss him down at a fifth knight like he was some sort of human ammunition.

The remaining knights tried to shoot it, but the griffin covered itself with its wings. They acted like shields. Despite the knights' best efforts, Gryphon was unharmed.

While the enemies were distracted by the griffin, Roy fired three more shots. Under the guidance of Guided Arrows and Massacre's added damage, the bolts pierced through three helmets and crushed the heads of their wearers with ease.

Ten seconds had gone by since the start of the chase, and only five of the eighteen pursuers remained. Unlike how they felt earlier, now the pursuers only had horror in their hearts. All they wanted to do was run.

But they underestimated the speed at which the witcher could fire. They underestimated how far he could fire. And thus, they made the last and fatal mistake of their lives. The knights split in five directions and tried to run away, but the witcher wasn't worried. He looked at them coldly as he fired three shots at the escapees. All of them found their mark, and the knights were killed.

Gryphon tore apart the remaining knights limb from limb.

Eist, Calanthe, and Vissegerd could finally escape without worries. They had been looking back all this time. After the knights were killed, they slowed down so Roy could catch up to them.

All of them galloped to Cintra together, while Gryphon flew high up in the air, checking for any pursuers who might come.

Not far ahead slept the sea. It was glimmering under the remaining rays of the sun. They could finally see the walls of Cintra standing atop the cliffs.

"What brings you two together, Roy?" Calanthe's sideburns billowed in the wind. She leaned closer to the horse's back and rode it like a pro. There was surprise and gratitude in her eyes. She didn't think Roy had the power to defeat all their pursuers by himself, but he managed it.

"Your Highness, Your Majesty, and marshal, Roy here saved my life." Triss showed her face.

So he saved our lives and killed those Nilfgaardian dogs at the same time? Well done, Witcher. Calanthe wanted to reward Roy, but Cintra was in a predicament. Any promise of a reward would sound laughable, so she held her tongue.

Roy saw through her, and he smiled. "Just doing it for Ciri. You might not believe this, but I have another business to settle here. Wasn't going to meddle. Not like I can change the tides of war all by myself."

He yanked the reins. "And you should arrive in Cintra within a day or so. This is as far as I go. I need to go back." Jerome is still missing.

"You want to go back?" Triss raised her head, her eyes filled with worry.

"I must, but I'll be careful. They can't bring me down. Not those Nilfgaardian soldiers."

The sorceress hung her head low, keeping her silence.

"Calm down. Witchers follow the code of neutrality. You shouldn't have joined this battle." Eist pulled on the reins. His hair and beard looked unkempt, and his back was hunched. The once mighty king looked a little dejected. "But still you came. And you saved our lives. I owe you. Destiny wills it."

The riders rode into a forest, and Eist sighed. "How should I thank you? Speak, for this is your last chance."

Roy shook his head. He was about to say no, but then an inexplicable feeling swelled within his heart. Almost uncontrollably, he said. "I would like…"

Surprise flashed in Triss' eyes. She felt mana flowing in the air. Subtle, but it felt ancient.

"Something that you already have but still aren't aware of."

Roy heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment there, he felt like he wasn't control of himself. And then silence followed.

Calanthe paled. She was reminded of a sad past, and her eyes went wide. Sadness and fury contorted her face. "I-Impossible. You invoked the Law of Surpirse? Witcher, I've agreed to let Ciri go with you! You can't invoke that law once more!"

"Calm down, Calanthe. We failed." Eist shook his head. Calmly, he spoke, "I'm sorry, Roy, but we have no children. She just checked it last month."

"Just a random thing I said. Wasn't expecting another Unexpected Child." Roy shook his head in disappointment, but when he looked at Calanthe again, he froze.

'Calanthe

Age: Forty-five years old

HP: 50 (Pregnant)'

***

Roy was reminded of something. Something he had seen before. A petite, black-haired girl with eyes as green as an ancient forest. She was looking at Roy, seemingly giggling in delight. And the girl was even extending a hand to him. "Your Highness, I'd suggest you talk to a priest of Freya once you return to Cintra. They might come up with a different result this time."

"Are you kidding me? I didn't know witchers were doctors. And you just took one look at her. No way you can be sure she's pregnant." Eist's eyes widened, his face filled with solemnity, and he held his reins tighter.

"That's Destiny. You might not believe it, but it is what it is. Congratulations. Both of you."

The rulers exchanged a look. They were filled with delight, shock, sadness, and grief all at the same time.

***

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