Chapter 300

Chapter 300: The Killing Starts

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Roy was in Alonso’s room. The light from the magical lamp shone on the people inside the room. Roy glanced from the corner of his eye. The soldiers here were equipped with the best gear, and their combat stats were higher than the two dozen bodyguards outside the room. The sorcerer was the same one he saw back at Rosemary and Thyme. His name was Chester, and the silver ankh in front of his chest was shining with magic.

Seventy-five years old. Still young for a sorcerer. But judging from his skills, his power’s not that strong. At least way weaker than Lytta.

The bodyguards and sorcerer stood near Alonso. They were staring at the guest cautiously. They were tense, and they took an offensive stance against Roy. It was obvious that Alonso was still on guard against him.

“Have a seat, Master Roy. Now, tell me, why do you insist on talking to me personally? Is your secret that important?” he said raspily. The man turned around, revealing a gaunt, brooding face. There was a hint of madness in his long, slanted eyes. His nose was crooked, and his lips were thin. He had red spots on his face and dark circles under his eyes. Apparently he didn’t hold back on the nightly activities.

‘Alonso Wiley

Gender: Male

Age: Forty-two years old

Status: Boss of the Wiley Gang (The gang started off as a minor organization. Thanks to Alonso’s leadership, it is now one of the Big Four in Novigrad. He has ruled the gang for twelve years), poet.’

***

“If you’re down with any disease, I can hire the best doctors in the northern kingdoms for you. If you want to find someone, I can mobilize everyone in my gang to scour the land of Novigrad. In exchange, you must win the contest.”

“Alonso, what I’m about to tell you is top secret.” Roy shook his head and looked at the bodyguards. “Can I have a minute with you? Alone?”

“Worry not. Aside from Chester, I raised these men since they were children. Their loyalty is absolute, and they’ll keep a secret.” He slumped back into his chair and tapped his desk lightly. “They’ll take your secret to their graves. I promise you, on the name of my family. But if you insist on going through with that unreasonable request.” He rested his elbows on the table and held his chin with the back of his hands. The man stared at the witcher. He hissed, “Then I’ll assume you have an ulterior motive.”

“Very well.” Roy shrugged. He took the seat and stared back at the man behind the desk. “Alonso, I have a question I need answered.”

“Ask away.”

Roy took a deep breath and enunciated, “If I hadn’t returned in time, what would have happened to Moore and his family? Would you have tortured them to death and turned them into one of your lackluster poems? Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say lackluster? I mean bullshit and badly written.”

The bodyguards unsheathed their blades and surrounded Roy. They were breathing heavily, and all of them would fight the witcher at the drop of a hat.

“I’m only going to warn you once. Do not insult my work. Not even one word of it.” Alonso took a deep breath. Anger flashed in his eyes, but only for a moment. He wagged his finger in front of Roy, almost poking his cheek. He growled, “The last person who did is food for the corals in the ocean. You wouldn’t want to suffer the same fate, would you?”

The witcher was not even fazed.

“Now where were we? Ah yes, I believe it’s a misunderstanding. The people who threatened Moore and his family have been punished. You saw their arms and tongues. Is that not enough? Must you take their lives?”

“Oh, but that’s not what I heard.” Roy looked at him. “Vincent and his goons clearly told me you were the one who sent them after Moore.”

Alonso stayed quiet for a few moments, and he sneered. “Witchers and their habit of finding out the truth. How redundant.” He narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disdain. “So what if you know the truth? Do you really want to get yourself killed, young man?”

“There’s no need to fight us for a couple of nobodies.” Alonso’s eyes glinted coldly. He kept trying to entice Roy with a great future. “Work with me, and you’ll have everything you want. Women, power, wealth? Anything. Once you win the matches and get that no man’s land, you too can start your own business there. And then it’s goodbye to a life of fighting drowners in squalid ditches and rundown villages for only a couple hundreds of crowns. What kind of life is that? You risk your neck and gain no dignity in return.”

Most witchers would be tempted to say yes to that offer.

“This is simple maths. Even a moron can see which one’s a better deal. There’s no need to make an enemy out of us and lose so much money.” Alonso slumped back into his chair again. “Let me tell you something. Everything in this world changes eventually, but not money.”

“A tempting offer, but sorry. There’s only one reason I’m here.” Roy looked around. The bodyguards held their blades tightly, ready to attack. The sorcerer was right beside Alonso. He was ready to cast a spell. Roy could see the light of elements dancing at his fingertips.

The young witcher grinned. His pupils contracted as he locked onto his prey. He was like a viper ready to pounce. “To settle a score!”

Fear!

The bodyguards froze for a moment. Wriggling, squirming tentacles appeared in their sights. Horror crept onto their faces, and they lost control of their bodies for a moment.

Roy extended his hand and grasped a glinting blade out of nowhere. He spun around, and the blade arced through the air like a white rope.

Five crimson patches bloomed in the air like liquid fireworks. The burly bodyguards held their necks, but it did nothing to stop the blood from spurting out. They fell down without a sound, drenching the desk in red.

Alonso had seen more than his fair share of battles, and assassinations were a dime a dozen in his life. The massacre did not faze him. He pushed his desk and swiveled around, then he slid away.

Chester took a step ahead. A scorching flame was forming in his hand, heralding the arrival of a fireball of destruction.

Roy grabbed a hand crossbow out of thin air and pulled the trigger.

The arrow flew through the air and hit the sorcerer’s neck, but a light blue barrier deflected it like nothing.

A single arrow was not enough to pierce the shield. Chester was about to laugh, but his half smile froze.

The bolt was deflected, but he could feel a strange energy coming from it. It passed through the barrier easily and hit his robe. And then it was like a lightning bolt just hit his soul. 

His eyes rolled back into his head as he fell into an eerie stupor. 

His fireball spell was cut off, and the flames went out. The recoil from the unfinished spell made him bleed from his face. He grunted.

Roy leapt into the air and landed softly, then he cut his blade across the sorcerer’s throat. Chester’s head flew high up into the air.

The blood that spurted from his neck colored the beautiful wall red.

‘Chester killed. EXP +120.’

Alonso looked back through the corner of his eye, and what he saw stunned him.

The witcher was curled up and facing him. His blade was held up by his cheek, pointing at him like a bull’s horn.

Blood was flowing and squirming under his feet, as if it were alive. It formed a puddle, and the crimson liquid swam up him, covering the witcher.

It looked like the witcher was covered in crimson flames. At this point, all Alonso saw was a silhouette covered in red.

The crimson light twisted and turned. The will of the kill was almost palpable thanks to Suppression. Alonso saw scarlet tentacles coming out from the void, and it hid behind the witcher, swaying and… almost whispering to him.

Alonso felt fear and despair coming from the tentacles. The sight made him woozy and nauseous. His memories, even those he thought he had forgotten, welled up in his mind uncontrollably.

He saw himself brutally extorting and toying with the civilians just because he could. He saw how he tormented families and destroyed them in the end. He saw how he dismembered his victims, and most of all, he saw the powerless people prostrating themselves before him, writhing and howling in pain.

These memories leapt out of the crimson flames, turning into evil spirits that came after him, tearing him apart.

“No! No! Stay away!” Alonso was crying in fear. He couldn’t stay calm anymore. The man burst through the door and ran outside while soiling his pants at the same time.

Roy leapt ahead and caught up to him in one single moment. He thrusted his sword upward, embedding it into Alonso’s head and holding him in midair like he was skewered meat.

‘Alonso Wiley killed. EXP +20.’

The witcher pulled his blade out and flicked his wrist to fling the body and blood off his blade. And then he strode into the corridor.

Two of the gang members showed up at the corner. They were swinging their weapons, yelling murder as they charged at Roy.

Roy didn’t even bother to dodge. He took one step forward and thrusted his blade ahead. The weapons clashed, but Roy had the advantage in strength and skill.

The enemy’s blade was pushed away. Roy slid his blade up the back of the enemy’s weapon and buried Gwyhyr in the thug’s neck.

One of the gang members fell, and his blood stained the expensive rug underneath.

The other was about to swing his spiked hammer down, but his hand hung in midair. The man’s eyes turned wide with fear, as if he just saw an unspeakable horror unfolding before him.

His eyes turned red, and the man started shivering uncontrollably.

The witcher held his ground and thrusted his sword downward without hesitation. The blade pierced through the cracks between the thug’s helmet.

The thug’s right eye was dyed red. His head slumped, and he fell forward like a sinking ship.

“Huh. Suppression works really well against humans with super low Will.”

He went up the second floor.

***

A man with amber eyes was crouched on the walls of the manor, hiding in the rain. He was holding a sword, but for some reason, his weapon disappeared into thin air.

It was as if a signal were sent. The man grinned. He tossed the corpses in the turret aside and leapt into the manor with his companions.

They went through the rain, but not unnoticed. The armed forces patrolling the buildings summoned their companions, and together they rushed the witchers.

The witchers slammed into the army of guards. The guards might have the number advantage, but that advantage might as well have never existed.

Auckes unsheathed his blade and jumped into the enemy crowd. He started spinning around, and an arc of light flew through the air. His blade cut through two of the guards.

Blood splattered everywhere, and the bodies that were cut in two fell to the ground.

***

Felix spun around as well. He moved forward like an elegant dancer, and his blade moved with him. He was like a tornado of death, laying waste everywhere he went. His blade glinted brightly. Anyone who came near him would have their limbs cut off and die a painful death.

***

Serrit pushed his hand forward. Aard smashed through the air, and the shockwave tore through the enemy defenses. Everyone in a conical shape before him was pushed back, creating space for the witcher.

He took a step ahead and thrusted his blade into an enemy’s eye while they were disoriented.

He pulled the blade out and slashed sideways, cutting another enemy’s throat open.

He let out a sigh and held his blade vertically by his cheek. The witcher peered at the enemy lines and charged through them like they were nothing.

***

At the same time, Letho was talking with Bogut, but then he stopped for a moment. “Conversation’s over, Mr. Bogut. Your time is up.”

“What do you mean?” Bogut was hitting his stride in the conversation. I’m parched. He sipped some tea and pricked his ears up. And then his face fell. “Wait. What’s that sound outside?”

“Time to say farewell.”

The last thing Bogut heard was a sigh, and his vision blurred for a moment. He felt the world spin as he flew high up in the air. Why’s there a headless corpse below me? Look, it’s spurting blood from its neck.

***

A bloody battle broke out in the manor, but the screams of battle, the sound of blades burying themselves in flesh, and the splattering of blood were all covered by the sound of the downpour.