The Divine Hunter - Chapter 634

Chapter 634: A Knight’s Procession

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

“It has been one thousand years, and Aen Elle is still following the misguided path of pilfering? Leave, Avallac’h. Stop making more mistakes.” Francesca stopped the sorceress beside her from casting a spell, turning to the sage of the Wild Hunt.

Avallac’h shook his head. “I apologize, my kin that is oppressed by humanity. Taking the Elder Blood back to Tir na Lia has been my life’s goal, and both our worlds are in danger as we speak. This is the only way we can get a chance at survival. If you work with us and hand over Ciri and the child, I will tell Eredin to stop this battle immediately. You and the remaining witchers will survive. It is possible for you to escape the coming disaster with us.”

Ciri held her young aunt tightly, her eyes filled with hatred. “Piss off, you lying murderer! Take your disgusting skeleton knights and leave! You are not welcome here!”

“I see foolishness and obstinacy are hereditary. Your mother, Lara Dorren, turned her back on her kind and mingled with a human. In the end, she was deceived and played like a fiddle. Not a shred of her body was left.”

“What madness are you talking about? I don’t know of this Lara Dorren. My mother is Pavetta.”

Avallac’h put on a lovely smile. “It’s a complicated story, but I shall explain everything once we return. Humans have a saying. The mistakes you make will become invaluable experience for you one day. I will not let this mistake go on any longer.”

And then, he imperiously ordered, “Come, Zireael.”

“Die, you bastard!” A blue energy ball hurtled through the air and hit Avallac’h, but all it did was blow his fringe away, and then it faded. Four more sorceresses threw all they had at Avallac’h. Fiery snakes, howling winds, and invisible hands made of energy.

Chaos energy exploded in the air like fireworks, but all they did was dispel the illusion of Avallac’h. A resigned sigh echoed in the air. “A foolish choice, but I will indulge.”

A portal opened in the air, and a pack of Hounds leapt out of it, roaring and charging at the sorceresses.

Coral and Triss exchanged a look, the magical talismans before their chest reflecting colorful lights. A great blue energy shield surrounded her and expanded further, until all her companions were covered.

Francesca shoved her hand ahead, and the air around an incoming Hound exploded in blue flames. Debris and soil flew everywhere. The Hound howled as the flames burned it.

Yennefer chanted loudly, and the air shivered. A bolt of blue lightning struck the battlefield. The Hound charging from her left was turned into a pus-covered toad, croaking. And its kind crushed it underneath their stampede.

***

But that was all for the sorceress’ spells. The Hounds were already near them, their maws open. The frosty breath was starting to eat away at the energy shield, and it didn’t take even a moment for the shield to shatter. The frost attacked, and the sorceresses went pale from the cold.

“Ciri, remember your training? Lend me your mana.”

“Okay.”

Eileni grinned and nodded. Yennefer held Ciri’s hand, feeling the mana coming from the Elder Blood. She bit her lip and extended a finger. The roars of three Hounds turned into chirps as three colorful kingfishers flew in the air.

Francesca burned them into cinders with her fireball.

***

The barrier was shattered. Triss and Coral shivered, blood trickling from their mouths and noses. They quickly rubbed their rings and talismans. An invisible force field undulated around them like waves.

However, one Hound escaped the attack, and it came near the ladies, snarling. It was too late for the ladies to react.

But then, a golden energy beam cut through the air. Grimm roared, swinging his golden weapon down with great ferocity, cleaving the Hound in two. “Worry not, ladies.” The champion knight of Toussaint stood before the ladies and children, pulling his visor up, his gaze sharp. There was fighting spirit within his eyes, and it was roaring. The Order of the White Rose quickly formed a protective ring around the ladies. “In the name of a knight’s valor, I swear I shall keep you safe.”

A pause later, he turned to Ciri. “And is Cahir alright, girl?”

Ciri froze for a moment. She then realized that Cahir was the knight Roy said was protecting her. “The Wild Hunt killed him.” She sobbed, looking like she was in agony.

“Did he die in glory?” Grimm asked solemnly.

“He died bravely. A true knight,” Yennefer answered, her violet eyes twinkling with respect and gratitude.

Grimm closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned to the sea of soldiers and Hounds coming out of the portal, and the knight leapt into the air. As he fell into the barking Hounds, he spun his greatsword like it was a windmill’s fan. The wings on his helm fluttered in the air, and his greatsword tore through the battlefield, slicing the icy enemies apart.

And then, three Hounds were decapitated. The knight had slain three legendary creatures, a feat he’d never done his whole life.

Alas, his spark only lasted for a moment. The knight had plunged himself into danger. He’d attracted the attention of many enemies, and the frost coming at him from every direction froze his armor. The knight’s swings slowed down, and his fighting spirit cooled. He almost fell into a stupor, but he held his wobbly body up with his sword.

From the corner of his eye, he saw terrifying, despairing scenes. The knights of the Order protecting the sorceresses fell in pools of their own blood, frozen after they fought the Wild Hunt for a moment. The Hounds stepped on their bodies, howling and tearing away.

Humans were fragile as glass. They were no match for legendary creatures. No. Grimm bit his tongue, the metallic tang of blood and the sharp stab of pain awakening his soul, and his pupils contracted.

A burly Wild Hunt soldier over six-foot-six tall appeared. The soldier had a horned helmet, and he was swinging his two-handed hammer down on Grimm.

The air screeched wherever the hammer swung. The weapon could easily crush all armor and defense, turning its target into mincemeat.

This isn’t over. The heir of the Sigurds will never die in such an ignoble way. A knight’s life should burn as bright as flames.

Grimm held his blade high. The golden edge shone under the sun, and ancient, majestic faces gleamed. A reinvigorating battle hymn echoed in his mind. Souls of my ancestors, grant me your protection. I shall walk this path now. Burn, Sword of Justice!

Flames grew from the sword’s hilt, and it didn’t take long until the knight was covered in fire. His eyes were now liquid flames, and around him was armor made of flames.

Power surged through his veins, and it dispeled the chill of the White Frost. Grimm swung his blade ahead, and it met the hammer.

Sparks formed a beautiful waterfall in midair. The Wild Hunt’s knight, hit by the great momentum, staggered backward.

Grimm launched attack after attack, swing after swing. He stepped forth like a god, chasing victory. Dancing flames filled the battlefield, reaping the cries and roars of its enemies. Faster and faster the sword went, until it was a blur. The knight tried to stop the attack, but he was like a wobbling tree facing the torment of the elements.

A few Hounds were turned into cinders, flames eating away at them.

And then, Grimm swung his blade again, pushing the soldier away. He then changed his stance, holding the midsection of the weapon, the hilt under his armpit. The weapon was pointed at the chest of the enemy before it.

An air of solemnity radiated across the battlefield. The Sword of Justice had morphed into a lance over six-foot-six long. Grimm leapt ahead with the lance held firmly in his arm, and a war horse made of flames appeared under the knight. Vague silhouettes wrapped in flames floated behind Grimm. They held up their lances and let out war cries. Crimson cloaks and flags billowed in the howling winds.

Justice and courage! Grimm, the knight who’d seen through the values of knighthood his whole life, shouted one last time in his heart. His whole life quickly replayed itself in his mind.

And then, everything turned into one single goal. A goal that soared higher than any army.

The fiery horse stampeded, taking its golden knight ahead into battle once more. The Lance of Courage sent the hammer flying and barreled through the enemy’s chest. The Wild Hunt’s knight flailed on the lance, roaring in sorrow, but the knight did not stop charging through the battlefield.

Onward!

A Hound was burned to cinders underneath the roaring flames.

Onward!

The enemy trying to ambush Felix and Aiden from behind was skewered.

Onward!

The White Frost coming for Coen’s back was warded off.

Onward!

The Hounds pushing Vesemir down were turned into mincemeat.

Onward!

Every inch of the knight’s armor, hair, flesh, and bones was turned into fuel for the weapon. Grimm burned away with the flames, quickly turning into little more than a transparent ghost. Yet he pushed onward under the rain of magic, sword, and White Frost.

His stallion left a trail of flames in its wake, and the Wild Hunt’s knights fell to his lance. The knight saw smiling faces. The heroic souls of the House of Sigurd opened their arms for Grimm.

Cahir, still an icy statue, waved at him. Moments before his passing, Grimm rode to the white-haired witcher and turned back for one last look. On his face was a smile of satisfaction. “Ravix of Fourhorn. You triumphed against me in the battle back in Cintra. I leave the treasure of my family to you.”

And Grimm’s smile froze. He was finally burnt away. Like a statue left to the mercy of the elements for a millennium, he crumbled into dust, taken away by the wind.

His golden sword fell from the air, burying itself into the ground underneath.

Eskel held up the pale Vesemir. With a trembling voice, he asked Geralt, “Who was that man? He saved Vesemir.”

“A true knight.” Geralt wiped off the frost from his throbbing face, and he pulled out Sigurd from the ground. Grimm’s silhouette flashed on the blade, pouncing into the battlefield of blood, fire, and frost once more.