The Divine Hunter - Chapter 520

Chapter 520: Shapeshift

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

The light of the forge’s flames shone upon the solemn countenance of a witcher. A cork plopped to the ground, and Roy downed a dose of ekhidna decoction and Thunderbolt. His strength went from 16 to 20, and black blood flowed within his veins.

Roy then uncorked Skellige Isles’ specialty: cherry cider, and the scent of the alcohol spread across the chamber around the forge. The ice trolls sniffed the air and smacked their lips.

A moment later, they wobbled and opened their eyes an infinitesimal amount. The first thing they saw was a cloaked figure standing at the entrance to the mine. “Who you, ugly? Out! This troll home!”

The trolls stood up and slammed their overgrown arms against the ground.

“Or troll cook you!” the male troll bellowed, his voice thundering like a war drum.

“No. He smell delish.” The female troll drooled and licked her lips, then she grabbed a boulder as big as a punching bag and got into a throwing stance. “No run! Come, I bite you!”

“So should I just run or nah?” Roy muttered. You pigs fell asleep after a meal. Heck, you look like pigs, and you’re calling me ugly? Have you ever looked into a mirror? He raised his hands, telling them he came in peace, then he pointed at the frozen corpse in the cage. “Take a deep breath and calm down. I’m a friend of ‘big one.’ Here’s a little gift.”

Roy rolled the spiked cider over to the trolls. Trolls could never resist alcohol. The monsters exchanged a look, and the male troll picked up the bottle without even hesitating. However, his fingers were too stubby for him to even uncork the bottle, so he ripped the bottle in two and gulped down the cider.

His partner quickly snatched the other half.

“You had my wine, so we’re friends now, and I have a question—”

“Piss off!” The troll shot Roy a glare and refused to accept the gesture. Adamantly, it said, “You smell funny. Not friend. No wine, no questions!”

“Wine, or become meat!” The female troll was drooling, and a guttural growl came from her throat. She was holding back her desire to feed.

Roy tossed another bottle of wine. “So how long have you guys been living in this place?”

The female troll downed the cider and licked the empty bottle, then she counted, “One, two, three… One, two, three…”

“Stop. Another question. Big one said there’s a bear in this mine. Where is it?”

“Bear! Friend! Eat small ones!” The male troll howled in delight and looked at the cage. When he noticed the frozen corpse, he gave it a look of suspicion. Big one looks different.

Noticing the look in the troll’s eyes, Roy froze for a moment. What does the bear have to do with the blacksmith? “You got into a fight with the bear? Trying to eat its paw?”

“Bear paw bad. Small ones better. Bear friend. No fight.” The troll burped. “Kill small ones together. Make stew.”

Roy got the gist of the matter. The trolls aren’t enemies with the bear; they’re partners. That’s a lot different from what Farik told me. “Where’s your bear friend? Take me to him.” I can get all of them at once. Roy rolled another bottle of liquor over to them.

“Bear friend hiding.” The dazed troll looked at the cage, then it turned its attention to the witcher, its eyes blazing with desire and hunger. “Only come out after taking drug. Kill small ones together. Eat them together.”

“What kind of drugs?”

The troll scratched the back of its head, looking at the pile of miscellaneous items around the cage, muttering something under its breath. There was impatience in its voice, as if it were on the verge of letting something loose.

The witcher looked where it was looking, and he noticed a bottle of mead and a few freezing, crimson psilocybe mushrooms around the cage. One of them had bite marks on it. And that reminded the witcher of a certain race living in Ard Skellig. Vildkaarls. Berserkers. Could the bear be…

The female troll finished the liquor. Finally having its fill, she turned her bloodshot eyes to the witcher, misty breath flaring from her nostrils, and drool dribbled down her teeth. She then gripped a boulder, and her muscles bulged. “Had a lot frozen meat. Change food. Fresh small ones!”

The boulder whizzed through the air like a lightning bolt, charging at the witcher.

Roy anticipated that. He sidestepped it and leapt onto a protruding boulder. The projectile slammed into the cave’s wall, and it crumbled from the impact, leaving a hole on the wall.

As if on cue, the troll charged at Roy, swinging his arms around. The air was filled with its stench, and it slammed into where Roy was standing, creating a human-shaped hole in the wall.

Debris and stones flew everywhere, the troll hammering away at the wall. At the same time, its partner stood on the sidelines, hurling boulders and ice shards through the air, almost creating a gray rainbow.

So powerful was the impact of the projectiles, they left a row of holes in the wall.

The witcher ducked, dove, dipped, and dodged the incoming projectiles, spinning and pirouetting around the cave as if he were dancing in a rain of stones and ice. Then the witcher grabbed his hand crossbow and pulled the trigger.

A bolt flew through the battlefield, ramming straight into the female’s left eye, the impact blasting her left socket into a crater. Most creatures would have had their heads blasted clean off, but the troll only let out a howl of agony as it lost sight in one eye. That only served to stoke its flames of vengeance further.

But before she could do anything, the witcher disappeared into thin air, taking with him the golden light and crimson flames flickering on his skin.

The air rippled, and Roy reappeared right before her exposed torso, murder flaring in his eyes. I gave you liquor, and I got murder in return. Very well. If this is what you want, then two can play the game. Roy made a sign, and the troll froze for a moment.

That split second was all Roy needed.

He sliced his poison blade across the troll’s waist, the stars on the sword losing their light. A wave of crimson energy darted ahead, slicing through the troll’s belly, cutting through its innards and crushing its spine. Even its sturdy shell was cut open by Roy’s energy slash.

The troll let out a howl of agony. Moments before its death, it swung one punch at Roy. So fast was its attack, Roy failed to escape, and the punch grazed him. It broke Quen, caved his armor in, and broke his right arm, bending it at an unnatural angle.

He was sent flying across the air and was only stopped when he slammed into the wall. His blade fell from his hand, and Roy plopped on the ground, the pain from his broken bones turning his face red. The witcher pressed down on his right shoulder, and an audible crack rang in the air.

Ring of Time. His Elder Blood raged and boiled as the power of time enveloped the witcher. He turned back time around him by twenty seconds, healing all the damage done by the troll. His missing health, his hit points, and his limping right arm returned to full health. Roy spun his shoulder and checked the battlefield out.

The female troll was in a bad state. Two halves of her body slid and fell like slices of expired and overgrown meat. Blood spilled from her wound, drenching the ground and filling the air with a rancid stench, yet she did not die just yet. Her unbelievably abundant life force tethered her to the land of the living. In agony, she clawed away at the ground until her nails started to peel away, and the debris was sent flying.

As it raged and flailed and screamed in pain, its mate charged at the witcher, the sight of the female troll’s agony whipping him into a rage.

Roy pressed his left hand against the ground and cast his Conjuration spell. A blue frost atronach leapt out of Oblivion and crossed its arms, standing before its summoner like an ardent shield.

The troll slammed into the immovable atronach, and the cave shook from the shock, a dust storm swirling in the air. Icicles fell from the roof, and the howling gale almost blew out the flames in the forge.

Unbelievably, the charge left an infinitesimal crack on the atronach’s armor. Driven by bereavement, the male troll drew heavily from its well of strength, but instead of going after Roy, it charged right at the frost atronach and slammed its fists into the minion again and again, its face contorted with rage.

He hurled his punches until they left afterimages, the roar of the battle’s impact rumbling across the cave. The atronach could not hold out against the troll’s relentless attack. It tried to defend, but the troll proved to be too powerful. Eventually, cracks spread across its body, and shards of ice splattered across the battlefield.

The witcher hiding behind the minion cast another spell, and his eyes turned red. Crimson tentacles bloomed in the air like a flower of death, swaying in the gale. They stopped the troll’s attack and coiled around it until it was a cocoon, then the tentacles raised the troll into the air, revealing its belly and eyes to the witcher.

Roy held his sword up and stabbed away at the troll’s eyes and belly, while his minion slammed its fists into the troll’s head.

In just a moment, the troll was covered in bruises, its eyes bursting into a gooey mess, and its stomach a wall of bloody gashes. Its innards were torn, and two halves of its guts spilled out to the ground. The poison from the blade and the flames from the armor cut into his wounds further, leaving deeper injuries, and blood spurted like a fountain.

Yet even so, the troll was regenerating at inhuman speeds, especially in a climate as cold as the caves. The wounds on its belly were quickly closing up. These wounds were not enough to kill the troll.

Right before Fear’s effect wore off, the witcher gritted his teeth and held the troll’s shoulder down. He then pulled the troll’s head closer, and the witcher took a deep breath.

“Fus!”

A gash tore itself in space as the power from the Bones of the Earth descended into this world. A great current of air and sonic waves blasted into the troll’s ear canal. As if slammed by a siege weapon, the troll hurtled across the air, but even before it could land, its flesh ricocheted in every direction.

A bloody scene unfurled before the witcher’s eyes as something exploded in the troll’s ear. The impact from the blow blasted its ear and half its face off. Its flesh was sliced off by an invisible knife, revealing its bloody flesh within.

The impact destroyed the eardrums and charged straight into its head, destroying its bones and brains before leaving a gaping hole behind. Blood and brains trickled down its body as the troll fell, its pupils dilating while its last breath left its body.

Not even its regenerative abilities could heal up its mess of a brain now.

‘(2) ice trolls killed. +600 EXP. Level 12 Witcher (13800/12500).’

Roy wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at the mangled corpses of the trolls. He shook his head. “You deserved this. Taking over the mines alone was bad enough, but you just had to kill and eat all those people. Can’t believe you tried to eat me too.”

The witcher took a deep breath and cut the trolls’ bodies up. Time to get the loot. The trolls’ hides were as tough as steel. If it weren’t for their soft bellies, Roy would have to cut through their corpses with his energy attack.

It didn’t take long for the witcher to gather all the innards, bones, and corpses, then he tucked all of them away in his inventory space. And the trolls also dropped a couple of ogroid mutagens. These were on par with greater green mutagens.

Roy searched the forge’s vicinity, but he still found no other living humans. He then collected some trinkets off the corpses. Statues, hats, daggers, hair clips with names engraved on it… All things that could prove the deceased’s identity. And coins worth more than five hundred crowns.

The trolls hid the coins in a sack. They probably had the hobby of collecting shiny items, much like how dragons would. And Roy also found the bottle of mead around the cage. It was supposed to be pure mead, but there were traces of dried blood at the bottle’s throat. A few psilocybe mushrooms were strewn around the cage. Maybe someone found these around the mountains. Mushrooms and mead. Anyone who has this combination would have an insane trip.

“Psilocybe mushrooms, human blood, mead, and a bear. My guess is right on the money. Farik probably inadvertently ingested the three components and awakened his hidden strength.” Roy rubbed his chin. Maybe that’s why he was so scared. He then went back to the shack outside the mine.

The sun was slowly descending on the west coast, the snow-capped mountains reflecting the last beautiful rays of sunshine as dusk slowly closed in.

Roy patted Farik’s cheek. The blacksmith muttered and woke from his slumber. “Auckes! D-Did I fall asleep?” He was curled up, his eyes bloodshot and filled with fear. Carefully, he looked around, fearing something might be keeping an eye on him, ready to pounce at any given moment.

“I searched the place, but I didn’t see any bears.”

“Because it hides well.” Farik looked into the witcher’s eyes solemnly, almost spewing all over his face.

Oh gods. This man feasted with the trolls before. Disgust welled in the witcher’s heart.

“It’ll appear when we least expect it and kill us all.” He put his hands in a prayer, pleading, “Please, witcher. Take me back to the cave and lock me up in the cage. Only the trolls can protect me now.”

“You sure taking you back home won’t work either?” Roy looked into his eyes, trying to find a trace of guilt. “You’d be far from the mountains and with your family. Yoana, Chamir, and Klaf will keep you safe. The bear can’t hurt you.”

“It’s not as simple as you think.” A bitter look filled Farik’s eyes. Worried, it said, “It can track me down through my scent and invade my home. It’ll kill my family.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but…” Roy waved his arm and produced two ice troll corpses beside the bonfire, their innards cleaned out. “Your guards are gone.”

The blacksmith’s eyes went wide, and he was in disbelief. Well, more horrified than in disbelief. He pointed at the corpses, unable to form a coherent sentence, and he inhaled sharply.

“I killed them. They tried to eat me, but I’m a tough customer, so their heads got busted.”

“I’m done for, Auckes. I’m done for!” The blacksmith started crying like a jilted woman. “No one can save me now. I’m dead! And I still haven’t raised a family yet! Gods, I’m still single.”

“Ah, don’t worry. If that bear shows up I’ll make bear stew out of it.” Roy tossed a few pieces of firewood into the bonfire, slashing his hand around. Coldly, he said, “I’ve not just killed trolls before. Nekkers, ghouls, and even a higher vampire too. Killed them all. And bears as well. Brown bears, grizzly bears, or even believers of Svalblod. So called Vildkaarls. Berserkers.”

“You will die if you do that, Auckes,” Farik rebutted, then he gave Roy a confused look. “What do you mean Svalblod?”

“Think harder. You must have the answer.” Roy smiled at him mysteriously.

“Svalblod… Vildkaarls… berserkers?” Farik stared at the ground, muttering. A frown furrowed his brows, and confusion filled his eyes. He didn’t seem to be lying.

“Can’t remember anything? Let me jog your memory.” Roy produced a bottle of mead and uncorked it. He crushed a psilocybe mushroom and poured the shroom into the mead. The witcher let the flavors get to know each other for a moment and handed the bottle over to Farik.

Farik frowned, the look in his eyes turning vacant as he fell into a memory lane. Without thinking, he took the bottle and had a sip. As the liquid merged with his body, the blacksmith tensed up. He bit his lip tightly and held his breath, his teeth clenched together.

All his timid and cowardly nature was gone, replaced by an icy look of cruelty. A sickly red tinged his ghostly pale skin, the air coming out of his mouth hot, as if he had a fever. Veins popped underneath his skin.

Even with the bonfire, the climate was still deathly freezing, but Farik seemed to be in a sweltering land, tearing away at his coat to feel cooler. His bony torso was revealed, and he lay on the ground like a beast, shivering.

Roy’s pupils contracted. Black fur slithered out of the blacksmith’s pores, slowly covering him, turning the man into a beast. His cadaverous figure ballooned, and claws extended from the tips of his limbs. His pupils contracted, their color deepening. Farik’s mouth elongated into a snout, his teeth giving way to thick, yellow fangs with crimson strips around their tips. A pool of drool was starting to form on the ground.

The beast gnashed its teeth, its eyes shining with crimson bloodlust, then it whirled and looked at the snow-capped ground with eyes devoid of any emotion.

Roy had exited the shack, standing far away, blending into the night. A terrible roar rampaged across the air of the mountains, and within the bear, the urge to battle and destroy awakened.

A beast ten feet tall emerged from the shack, growling.