The Divine Hunter

Chapter 615 - 615: Night of the Demons Part Three

Chapter 615: Night of the Demons Part Three

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Winds howled. The mist wriggled within the darkness. Lambert pulled back his foot from the bruxa’s back, but his blade was still on its neck. One little slip of his hand, and he could slice its head off, though he didn’t think using an underling’s life was enough to threaten its master. “Out of courtesy, shouldn’t you introduce yourselves before you extend an invitation? Let me show you how it’s done. I’m Lambert of the Wolf School, and I’m with the witcher brotherhood.”

The higher vampires were surprised to hear this new organization, but then they smiled.

“She’s Natanis, the longtime showrunner of an inn, sister of the cheeky girl you’re holding hostage, and the most gorgeous woman in the world.” The man looked at Natanis, love overflowing from his eyes. Natanis gave him a gentle look as well.

“A higher vampire who runs an inn and has unparalleled looks.” Lambert realized who this was. Roy told him about it. “If I’m right, you’re the one and only owner of Vizima’s House of the Queen of the Night.”

The woman smiled and curtsied at Lambert, then she stood aside quietly.

“Not a bad eye, and you’re a courteous man too. Unlike other witchers who call us blood-drinking freaks or bats in human skin the very moment they see us. I am starting to like you. As for me, there’s nothing to hide. I am Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy.” Godefroy patted the pocket on his robe, and Lambert caught a whiff of herbs.

“I’m a barber-surgeon from Dillingen who lived most of my life in villages. To be honest, for the past one hundred years, Fen Carn, the elven burial site, has been under my and my companions’ care. If you’d arrived one year earlier, I’d have welcomed you with open arms and asked you to enjoy a glass of freshly-brewed mandrake distilled wine.”

Emiel was warm, reasonable, and had an air of amity around him. He was different from the bruxa who attacked them with bats and claws earlier, as if he was just a kind, regular guy. Even Lambert’s medallion sat quietly, unresponsive to him.

“We could have talked about alchemy, potions, and the environment. Witchers are experts in these fields. I’d have loved to engage with you, but alas, it’s not the perfect time now.” Emiel shrugged his hands. He said, a bit more solemnly, “You guys came barging into private land uninvited, wearing armor and bearing swords. You have caused trouble for us and almost ruined our plan. To warn and slightly punish you…” Emiel paused, and he waved his hands.

The skies cleared up, the mist fading away, and starlight shone on this land once more. Between the greenery and pillars of the ruins were soldiers strewn everywhere. Their eyes were closed, and they were obviously asleep.

Rorin was lying in the lap of one of his men, snoring thunderously. There was a weird smile on his lips. Probably having a really nice dream. Lambert did a rough headcount. There were a hundred of them when they came, and there were a hundred of them left now. Even the poor sods who were bitten by the bats were healed. They looked healthier now.

Lambert cocked his eyebrow in surprise. From what he knew, higher vampires had incredible power. They saw humans as nothing but insects. They could easily wipe humans out if they wanted to. One faction even raised humans as cattles, akin to how farmers would raise livestock. They didn’t care about the lives of regular humans.

But there are always oddities in any group, Lambert thought. These two are no regular higher vampires. They seem to possess more humanity. Or they might be sly old foxes trying to get rid of the problem without hurting themselves in the process. Either or.

Lambert pretended to soften up.

Regis nodded. “Do not worry. Everything’s normal with them. After a good night’s sleep, some good dreams, and wiping away some unimportant memories, they can leave this place safe and sound. Of course, they will be avoiding Fen Carn instinctively from now on, just in case they make the same mistakes. Same goes for this lady.”

The Queen of the Night clapped her hands. Triss approached the witcher, her head low, her gaze vacant. “As you can see, we can easily take away the lives of these people, but we did not. One important reason for that is because we’re trying to show that we are sincere about this.” Natanis crossed her arms before her lower stomach, her voice piercing Lambert’s mind.

Lambert smiled. In return, he pulled back the blade from the bruxa’s throat. The injured creature tried to hold itself up with its half-grown limbs, and it wobbled over to the Queen of the Night. It held Natanis’ calf, like a girl who got bullied and was asking her mother to cheer her up.

Natanis patted the bruxa’s head and whispered something into her ear. The bruxa turned into a red-eyed bat and flew into a grave nearby.

“I like you more and more now. This is a perfect start.” Regis smiled. “I prefer mutual understanding and assistance, not unnecessary battle and murder. The other two came up with a more secure plan that would eradicate all our problems, but I thought their idea was a bit too harsh.”

Lambert’s heart sank. Is that a warning? There are two more higher vampires hiding in the shadows? He stood no chance against four legendary creatures. He had to try his best to negotiate and buy time for reinforcements to come.

“Now all we have to do is take one more step, and this accident will close its curtains on a happy note,” said Regis, full of emotions.

Lambert bowed, as if he were listening.

“It’s easy. Sheathe your blade and take a deep breath. Relax your body and soul. Pardon us, but witchers are highly trained individuals. It’s harder to completely hypnotize you than a sorceress. I promise that if you work with me, you will not be harmed. The hypnosis will only erase your memories of this night, Fen Carn, and us.”

Lambert looked at his bloodstained sword. The blade was showing his face. There was a sneer on his lips. That’s just like hanging yourself at the gallows

Regis could see the sneer. He started some kind of speech. “I, Regis, have not drunk any innocent human’s blood for more than three hundred years. The thirst for bloodshed and bloodlust is nothing but a sign of immaturity.”

Blood was not essential to higher vampires. They could eat human food.

“I admire human science, technology, poetry, music, and innovation of every industry you came up with. I am more than happy to lend a hand to despairing humans and give you an opportunity. Higher vampires are not so different from humans, elves, dwarves, witchers, or any sentient beings. At least in terms of intellect, that is. You can trust me just like you trust your kind. In the name of the Gharasham tribe, I swear, I did not speak a single word of deception.” Regis held up his chin like a proud aristocrat.

Natanis agreed, “For more than two hundred years, I have never forced any humans to provide their blood to me. Every transaction we make is based on consent. My inn and my sisters provide joy for our patrons, and all they need to give in return is nothing but a little blood. A harmless amount, too. I have never given thought of abandoning my principles and ideals. Not even today.”

She said, “We can understand why you barged into our place, so it is only fair that you also pay a little price.” The higher vampire took a step ahead, her hair dancing in the night, brushing against her cheeks. Her lips were crimson and lustrous, and her dress clung tightly to her body, showing off her perfect curves.

She was gorgeous. Any regular man would fall for her seduction, save for witchers. Lambert thought it was odd. These oddities seem to have blended in with human society. They could’ve taken me by force, but they wanted to reason with me instead. Lambert decided to reason with them too. He tried to remember all the things Dandelion said.

“I know you are no murderous monsters. I can trust you like I trust a witcher, but please, imagine yourself in my place for a while. You ask a witcher to give you all their trust even though it’s their first time seeing you? You ask a witcher to leave their own lives at your mercy? Do you think that’s reasonable? I have a gentler suggestion, so to speak.”

Lambert scanned the sorceress and sleeping soldiers. “I’ll take them away and never come back. Until the day I die, I will keep everything that happened here a secret. In the name of the Wolf School, I swear, if I turn my back on this promise, then my soul will fall to hell for all eternity.”

He said, “Will you trust me, then?”

The winds stopped howling, and even the bugs stopped chirping. An eerie silence fell upon the ruins. Regis and Natanis said nothing for a long time. The witcher quietly held the pouch before his chest, holding that decoction tightly.

“I apologize, but this is a difficult decision. If it were just Natanis and me, we would’ve agreed to that proposition.” A long while later, Regis sighed. He led Natanis closer to the witcher. It was just a single step, but a shadow appeared behind them, and it did not fade for the longest time.

“But our companions have short fuses and are impulsive people. If they find out about your proposition, it will only make things worse.” Regis sounded regretful. The air turned heavy and suffocating. The moon and stars had hidden themselves in the night skies, and inky darkness poured in.

Lambert quickly made a Sign and covered himself with a barrier. Then he uncorked a decoction.

Just when he was about to drink it, Regis froze, his nose moving, and his brows furrowed. He asked Lambert a bizarre question. “What are you holding?”

“Witcher decoctions. Provides me with some extra healing powers.”

Regis tilted his head, Coldly, he said, “I meant its components. I am an alchemy enthusiast. I know it’s not just herbs in there.”

“Fine, I confess.” Lambert smiled, still holding the bottle tightly. “There’s some fleder mutagen in it, but a mindless bloodsucker like that has no ties to an elegant and noble creature like you, does it?”

“It’s not a fleder. Not even a katakan or an alp. It’s something more ancient. Powerful. Familiar.”

“Then what do you think it is?”

The witcher and higher vampire met eyes. A moment of silence later, Regis had a conflicted look on his face. He heaved a long sigh and brought up another story. “Four years ago, a fool from the South by the name of Mocha aep Gruffyd traveled to the North. He perished in the outskirts of Vizima, and his remains, even now, are still unfound. We couldn’t even find him through Resonance. Have you heard of that name?”

“Never heard of it.” Lambert knew who it was. That was the first higher vampire Roy ever slew. Even now, its remains were still in Katakan’s laboratory, turned into components for their decoctions, and it was thanks to Mocha’s remains, the witchers managed to get out of many deadly situations.

“I despise the fool’s murder of innocents to satiate his bloodlust. He was feral, and I wished nothing more than to get rid of him myself, but ever since our species descended onto this world, procreation has been nothing but a wish for us. Every member is a valuable asset. I have no right to judge his actions, and neither does anyone else. His death has invoked the wrath of an elder in the South. An elder from another tribe.” There was fear in Regis’ eyes.

Natanis blanched as well.

“That’s the source of our recent problems.” Regis took a deep breath, his shoulders shivering. “You killed him, didn’t you, Lambert? And you turned him into a decoction? What a genius idea.” Regis’ voice lost its warm tint. It was sharp and filled with mockery.

“Will you believe me if I say this is just a misunderstanding?” Lambert gulped the decoction and spat the cork out. Black veins filled his face, and so did resignation. Why do I have to cover for Roy’s mistakes?

Regis and Natanis snarled, their fangs revealed.

“Sorry, but there’s a change of plans. You must come with us to the South and explain all this to the Elder.”

The silhouettes attacked Lambert, darkness and crimson light swirling around them.