The Divine Hunter Chapter 635: Victory and Change

In the blink of an eye, the void transformed into reality. Not the dawn-lit Isle of Thanedd, but a realm adorned with stars and constellations. Upon this starlit ground, three figures' paths converged.

With swift motion, Roy formed a blue inverted triangle with his left hand and pushed it outwards. Eredin, mid-swing with his sword, was violently repelled by the ensuing air current. From another direction, Caranthir, the pilot, unleashed an assault with his staff, cleaving through the air and descending upon Roy's head like a colossal warhammer.

The witcher swiftly dropped into a crouch, narrowly evading the strike. Anchoring his weight on his left leg, he pivoted, his blade Aerondight lashing out towards the elves' joints. However, the ever-present White Frost clung to him, impeding his movements. Caranthir twisted his staff, and a shower of sparks erupted as their weapons met.

Roy's offensive was thwarted. A chilling layer of frost crept along his blade, and a shiver coursed through him. He prepared to cast Fear, but to his dismay, all skills tied to his soul—Fear, Shout, Symphony of the SwordDragon, and Descend—were rendered inaccessible. He found himself locked in a perilous stalemate against the White Frost.

A sudden gust of wind buffeted him from behind as Eredin once again brought his greatsword crashing down upon Roy.

Roy's boystring let out a hum, and he vanished. In the next instant, he reappeared a hundred yards away, gripping his blade with both hands, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"You half-blood bastard." Eredin raised his greatsword, his gaze fixed on Roy's pointed ears. Arrogance and disdain contorted his features. "You have no right to wield the Elder Blood. You are a thief. You pilfered the Aen Elle's treasure. Once I reclaim it, I shall crush you."

Roy shot back with a sneer, "You lot are the galaxy's most notorious brigands. Once I'm finished with you, I'll carve you up and toss you to the drowners."

The combatants clashed once more. Silver light and the force of the staff met and exploded into a conflagration in mid-air. Primal chaos energy erupted and roared. Starlight burst forth from the colliding fighters, and the fabric of space itself groaned and fractured like shattered glass. The surrounding darkness enveloped them, a suffocating shroud.

The combatants vanished from sight.

***

Their next encounter took place on a battlefield imbued with the earthy scent of soil and grass, now dancing with a torrential downpour. The blood splattered on the combatants' armor was washed away by the deluge. A streak of silver light pierced the rainy veil, hurtling towards the haughty Eredin. Eredin bowed his head, and one of the horns on his helm snapped. He spun his greatsword and charged forward, unleashing a barrage of insults, attempting to shatter Roy’s composure. "Our kin are a thousand times more evolved than any pitiful witcher!" Howls and screeches ripped through the downpour. "We are your betters!"

Blades clashed in the air, yet the rain continued its relentless descent. Eredin's greatsword attacks became a tempestuous force. "You putrid, filthy, uncouth rat! Emerge and face your demise!"

Roy's sodden hair whipped around him as he moved like a dart through the rain, evading with the agility of a fish in a lake. The witcher dodged, weaved, leaped, and sprang, orchestrating a deadly waltz as he pirouetted away from his opponent's onslaught. He countered with jabs, thrusts, and slices aimed at Eredin's vital points, but his blade struggled to pierce Eredin's formidable armor, which appeared to be fashioned from an extraordinary material.

Caranthir lurked like a coiled viper, awaiting his opportunity. Recognizing himself as outmatched in close-quarters combat against Roy, he concealed himself within the veil of rain, phasing in and out of visibility at unpredictable intervals, always frustrating Roy's attempts to pin him down. Each reappearance was met with a volley of fireballs, howling winds, vibrant beams, crackling bolts of lightning, and the chilling embrace of the White Frost, all designed to disrupt the witcher's rhythm.

After a prolonged period of engagement, Roy resolved that to secure victory, he must first neutralize the ranged threat posed by Caranthir. He deliberately exposed a vulnerability, evading the crashing greatsword aimed at his shoulder. Eredin's blade grazed Roy's cheek as it sliced through a fiery Magma Quen shield, severing a lock of his hair, and continued its deadly arc towards his throat.

At that precise moment, a bolt of lightning shot through the air, hurtling towards Roy's back, aiming to trap him between two relentless assaults.

Exactly as Roy had planned. He thrust his left hand forward. A section of the rain detonated, and a surge of magical air current slammed into Eredin's torso. The impact sent the elf staggering backward.

With his right hand, Roy wielded Gabriel, pointing it backward. The weapon unerringly tracked Caranthir, as if Roy possessed an uncanny, sixth sense.

A flicker disturbed the rain. The errant bolt traversed a hundred yards in an instant, striking Caranthir's staff directly. Caranthir's mana flow faltered momentarily, and then, he sensed something looming above him. His breath hitched. The only thing he perceived was the glint of a blade slicing across his vision.

Blood sprayed through the air. Caranthir clutched his bleeding left eye, a howl of agony erupting from him. Roy, with a flick of his wrist, drove his blade forward, impaling Caranthir's right eye. His intent was to pierce the elf's brain, but he was a mere second too late.

Eredin descended from the air, his blade slashing at Roy's back. A fountain of blood burst forth, exposing Roy's bloody shoulder bone.

Roy's movements shifted. Aerondight spun by a hair's breadth, nicking the horned helmet. Caranthir cheated death and swiftly unleashed his ability once more as the Grim Reaper loomed.

Starlight once again enveloped the combatants.

***

The Elder Blood within their bodies stirred and raged uncontrollably. Compelled by the chaotic blood, the fighters were repeatedly flung through the void. They would remain stationary for two minutes before being whisked away to another location. The blood's teleportation wasn't confined to this world alone; they were transported to bizarre locales as well.

Yet, regardless of the destination, the battle never ceased, only escalating in danger and intensity. Upon arriving on scorching sands, Roy promptly employed the Sign he'd devised, summoning a lava dragon from the planet's core and severing Caranthir's leg.

Transported to a realm shadowed by three moons, Caranthir unleashed a bolt of dark lightning, searing the witcher who failed to evade in time. His flesh blackened, and the air filled with the aroma of roasted meat. Thankfully, the higher vampire decoction offered him salvation.

When they found themselves in a land under overcast skies, where a volcano spewed superheated magma, Roy concealed himself amid the volcanic ash and plunged his blade into Eredin's nape. However, the Aen Elle's potent healing spell kept him alive.

In a ravine buried under a thick blanket of ice and battered by blizzards, the fatigued pilot unleashed the full might of the White Frost within him, freezing Roy solid. Eredin seized the opportune moment to decapitate the witcher, but just as his consciousness flickered out, Roy invoked the Ring of Time, restoring himself.

***

To yet another world they were brought, and from there, they were whisked away again. The fierce battle raged on, its duration unknown. When their bodies, minds, and mana finally reached their breaking point, the rampant Elder Blood ceased its torment. One final transport took them to a location opposite Tor Lara. They materialized upon an extraordinarily sheer cliff face. Seagulls rested on reefs of strange formations. The biting wind carried the stench of bird droppings from the rocky outcrops.

"Witcher, you are the most formidable opponent I have ever encountered," Eredin stated, bracing himself with his greatsword.

Caranthir, now blind and with a missing leg, leaned on his staff. Both elves' helmets were gone, and much of their armor lay shattered, revealing injured chests beneath. The scorn had vanished from their faces.

"You are worthy of the Elder Blood. One last, sincere offer. Join us. You require a grander stage. You shall carve tales of your triumphs across the infinite worlds."

"At this juncture, words are futile. We are fated to be adversaries," the dark silhouette atop the reef declared, shaking his head, his cracked armor rattling.

Roy had endured far worse. His hair and eyebrows were scorched away, his face a mask of scabs and wounds, his appearance ravaged. His entire body bore countless injuries. Yet, his eyes remained ablaze with unwavering resolve and the spirit of battle. "Neither can survive while the other exists. And now, I shall extinguish your malevolent lives."

***

The combatants charged their foes. Eredin swung his weapon towards Roy's chest. The witcher stepped back, allowing Eredin's weapon to carve into his flesh. Blood sprayed across Eredin's face.

Roy thrust his right hand forward, and Aerondight struck like a viper, piercing Eredin's shoulder.

Caranthir steadied his wavering form with his staff, uttering an incantation. He hurled a bolt of electricity at the witcher. Roy swiftly rolled aside, evading both the greatsword and the electrical discharge. The instant he regained his footing, he pulled the trigger.

A projectile zipped through the air. Caranthir, too depleted to react, was flung backward, crashing down with a thud. A dark hole marred his forehead, brains and blood oozing from the gruesome wound. Then, the final sight he registered was the witcher's ascending blade.

Caranthir's head was severed. His arteries, exposed, hissed. Blood erupted skyward like magma erupting from a volcano.

'Caranthir slain. +10000 EXP. Level 15 Witcher (12000/18500). His Elder Blood has been absorbed. The power of your Elder Blood is enhanced.'

***

Witnessing the demise of his companion, Eredin unleashed tears of crimson, letting out a guttural roar as he lunged at the witcher, his weapon a blur. Roy's blade met his, and the brutal, bloody assault commenced anew.

Numbed to the agony by the relentless combat and a multitude of wounds, the combatants no longer flinched unless their very lives were in immediate peril.

Roy's blade found purchase in Eredin's underarms, while Eredin retaliated, bisecting Roy's abdomen and exposing his entrails. Crimson ichor spilled forth, forming rivulets at the fighters' feet. Soon, only mangled silhouettes remained where the warriors had stood.

Then, with the last vestiges of his mana, Roy hastily conjured a green, inverted triangle.

Eredin, momentarily stunned, could not react. Aerondight descended, slicing through his throat. A torrent of blood erupted, and Eredin bellowed in pain.

He flung the witcher aside with a powerful blow of his blade, which then tumbled from his grasp, embedding itself into the earth. He collapsed onto his knees, engulfed by a growing pool of his own blood.

To ensure the encounter's finality, Roy staggered forward, raising his weapon for a decisive strike at Eredin's neck. Yet, a surge of phenomenal strength coursed through the elf. He managed to block the descending blade with his left hand, while simultaneously grasping the crossguard and Roy's own hand with his right.

His grip was ironclad. "Witcher, child of the Elder Blood, may glory be yours," Eredin rasped, each word deliberate, his emerald eyes wide with dawning realization.

For a fleeting instant, through the witcher's mask of blood and shadow, Eredin perceived the echoes of Aen Elle's former splendor. A civilization lost to time, its greatness annihilated by a 'white disaster' eons past.

A profound sorrow washed over him, extinguishing his resolve. All his ambitions crumbled to dust.

Roy stomped down on Eredin's chest, wrenching his blood-soaked blade free. He then drove the weapon through Eredin's chest, pinning him irrevocably to the ground.

Eredin's limbs fell slack. A wind swept in from the sea. The King of the Wild Hunt drew his final, ragged breath.

'Eredin vanquished. +12000 EXP. Level 15 Witcher (24000/18500). His Elder Blood has been absorbed. Your own Elder Blood has reached an intermediate stage of awakening.'

Starlight erupted from Roy's form, an uncontrolled luminescence. He sensed a profound internal transformation, but before the witcher could grasp its nature, his strength abandoned him, and he pitched forward.

A sound like shattering glass echoed. The wind roared, unnaturally frigid for the height of summer.

And snow began to fall.

Roy, alongside every soul present on the Tor Lara battlefield—sorcerers, witchers, the Wild Hunt, and the forces of Aretuza—gazed upwards in disbelief.

A gaping tear had opened in the fabric of the sky above the distant seas. Icy winds and frost billowed through, unleashing a tempest of epic proportions.

The very land beneath them transformed into a desolate expanse of white.

It felt as if the end of the world had arrived.

***

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