novellhall Chapter 21: The Witcher, Hill Adolf
Chapter 21: The Witcher, Hill Adolf
Holy crap!
This scene is like something out of a horror movie that has come to life.
Ivan's legs tensed instantly.
It wasn't that it was about to run away. It was that it was scared.
When Evan on Earth was seven or eight years old, he was dragged to watch a horror movie by the older kids next door, and that left him with a childhood trauma ever since.
The older children were excited watching the sex scenes between the men and women in the film.
He turned pale with fright at the sight of the skinned female ghost.
Even as an adult, I am still afraid of the dark and ghosts. I need to turn on the light when I go to the toilet at night, and I can only fall asleep if the wardrobe door is tightly closed.
This thing in front of me is a million times more real than any horror movie.
It stood five meters away, the moonlight shining on its face, and blood dripping from its fangs.
Evan felt a heat in his crotch.
He instinctively reached down and touched it.
It's wet.
The brain nerves damaged by the medication seem to have lost a connection in a certain aspect of emotional perception.
"So it was urine."
His voice was dry, with an absurd calmness.
"That's right, a monster of this level isn't even worth making me sweat."
puff.
A very faint laugh came from a certain direction.
It wasn't emitted by a vampire.
The direction is wrong, and the distance is wrong too.
Before Evan could figure out the source of the laughter, the vampire in front of him moved.
Its speed was so fast that even with the Night Demon Potion's enhanced perception, its movements were still undetectable.
With a physique of 1.9, the reaction speed and dynamic vision are no different from those of an ordinary person when faced with this level of speed.
Ivan didn't even see how it moved.
One second it was five meters away.
The next second, a cold hand had already gripped his neck.
Click.
The five fingers tightened like hydraulic clamps, the fingertips embedding themselves into the muscles on the side of the neck, precisely locking the carotid artery.
It's not about strangling him, it's about controlling him.
Ivan grabbed the slender, pale claw with both hands and pried it off desperately.
He channeled 1.9 times the strength of an average person into his ten fingers, causing the veins to bulge and his knuckles to turn white.
The other party did not move an inch.
It's like trying to pry open a steel pipe welded to the wall.
Ivan's face turned bright red, and his veins throbbed at his temples.
He gave up the pointless struggle and squeezed out a sentence with his voice, which had been distorted by being choked.
"Professor Pris still needs me."
"Aren't you afraid he'll punish you?"
The fingers around her neck paused for a moment.
In that instant of hesitation, the force loosened slightly.
This one second of contact is enough.
The enhanced perception from the Night Demon Potion came into play at this moment.
Ivan's nostrils caught a scent, a smell emanating from the hand gripping his neck, a scent that carried the stench of blood and earth.
Sandalwood. Bergamot.
Professor Pris's perfume.
Before, whenever Priss sat opposite him in the cafeteria, this smell would always follow him.
He's smelled it so many times, he'd never mistake it.
This vampire is indeed one of Pris's people.
My grip loosened.
Evan lost his balance and sat down heavily on the ground, coughing violently while clutching his neck with both hands.
The feeling of air rushing back into your lungs is like swallowing a mouthful of shards of glass—both painful and exhilarating.
Just then, in the moonlight, a figure suddenly appeared.
From Ivan's right, a slender silver silhouette swept past with incredible speed, the soles of her boots barely making a sound as they trod on the grass.
She stood in the open space beside Evan and the vampire, drew a silver-white longsword from her back, its blade gleaming coldly in the moonlight.
"Let go of that boy..."
Her voice was clear and dignified, carrying a deliberately crafted heroic air.
Then she paused.
"Um?"
She discovered that the other party had already given up.
Ivan sat on the ground, clutching his neck, looking up at her and blinking.
The vampire stood three steps away, his scarlet eyes staring blankly at the woman who had suddenly appeared.
The silver-haired woman held her sword in a rather heroic stance, the tip pointing at the vampire's throat.
Three people, three directions, three expressions.
silence.
The November night wind blew from the hills, causing the woman's long silver hair to flutter to one side, and the wild grass rustled.
The lights of Bolton City twinkled in the night sky in the distance, like a scene from another world.
An awkward atmosphere froze in the moonlight.
Ivan didn't speak, silently observing.
The woman was quite beautiful in the moonlight.
She was about 1.7 meters tall, with a slender and strong figure. She wore a well-tailored gray leather armor, which was not worn much and looked relatively new.
Two swords were crossed on his back, with the hilts protruding from his shoulders and wrapped with black leather straps.
He had three leather waist bags of different sizes hanging from his waist, bulging and full, and it was unclear what they contained.
Her long, silver hair shimmered with a soft, cool light in the night, reaching her waist with slightly curled ends.
What is most striking about her are her eyes: a pair of golden vertical pupils, irises of pure amber gold, and pupils that are vertical slits.
They glowed faintly in the darkness, like two small lanterns.
A classic oval face, high brow bone, high nose bridge, and three-dimensional and delicate features.
He looked to be in his early twenties, radiating youthful energy and a certain impetuousness of someone just starting out.
The silence was broken first by the vampire.
"The Witcher".
A deep, angry voice squeezed out from that pale face, and fangs gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
"This is not your territory."
His tone was full of anger, but that anger was not directed at Evan, but at the silver-haired woman in front of him.
He was furious that he had been controlled in some way, and furious that this had caused such a huge mess.
"The Witcher?"
Ivan's ears perked up, and his eyes lit up.
The Witcher...
The Demon Hunter!
The three characters together sound like the name of a legitimate organization.
Hope. Variable. It's finally here.
Upon hearing the vampire's words, the silver-haired woman did not back down. Instead, she stepped forward, her sword tip firmly pointed at his throat.
His chin was slightly raised, and his tone carried a youthful pride and unwillingness to admit defeat.
"This is not your territory either, vampires."
She paused for a moment, a disdainful smile curving her lips.
"This is the territory of those capitalists."
Ivan sat on the floor, his mind racing faster than ever.
The information was pieced together within seconds: Witchers, official or semi-official supernatural organizations.
They are adversaries of vampires, possess combat capabilities, have organizational structures, and have a concept of territory.
As for myself, a poor student from the bottom class who has just touched the threshold of the extraordinary, what I need most right now is a big tree to lean on.
Pris was a tree, but that tree could eat him at any moment.
This one in front of us might be the second one.
The plan takes shape in a second.
"Master! You've finally arrived!"
Evan sprang to his feet with a somersault, pretending to have just recovered from his shock.
He rushed to the silver-haired woman in two strides, precisely positioning himself between her and the vampire.
He used the back of his head to shield the woman's bewildered expression, preventing the vampire from seeing any flaws in his demeanor.
"I almost got killed by this vampire!"
His voice carried a perfect tremor of relief and grievance, while he, with his back to the vampire, frantically winked at the woman.
The silver-haired woman was stunned for less than half a second.
Those golden vertical pupils flashed for a moment, then they understood.
Her expression quickly shifted back to that calm and dignified demeanor, her tone as flat as if she were stating something perfectly normal.
"Don't worry, with your master here, no one can touch you."
She shielded Evan behind her, held her longsword across her chest, and looked past Evan's shoulder, staring directly at the vampire.
"Go back and tell your master. Arkham is my student, Hill Adolf."
"Drug trials are fine, but don't go too far."
The vampire, now completely free from control, stood in the moonlight, his scarlet eyes scanning back and forth between the two people, his face as gloomy as the sea before a storm.
He was furious.
But he was powerless to do anything about it.
He knew he couldn't beat this vile woman.
My recent experience on Guding Street has proven this point.
He had no doubts about the relationship between the two.
Just now, when I lost control, this kid named Arkham actually knew that his master was Pris.
How could an ordinary test subject possibly know this kind of information?
In addition, there was his drug resistance, which far exceeded that of ordinary people.
Nine times out of ten, it was a plan that the Witcher planted in the Sage's ranks from the very beginning.
"Despicable scum."
The vampire snorted coldly, and his body vanished into the darkness in an instant, like smoke dispersed by the night wind.
The silver-haired woman stared at the direction he had disappeared in for a second, then chased after the empty night and began cursing.
"You're the lowlifes! You vampires are all lowlifes!"
She cursed five or six times, her voice growing louder with each curse, her long silver hair swinging wildly with her agitated movements.
Only after confirming that the other party had indeed gone far away did she sheathe her sword, let out a long breath, and let her shoulders slump slightly.
Ivan stood behind her, watching her back, his right hand touching his chin, his mind racing.
"That laugh just now must have been hers."
"Judging from the exchange just now, that vampire is rational, and he is quite wary and angry at this woman."
"In other words... it was this woman who caused the vampire to lose control and kill people."
Why?
The clues in my mind quickly connected, and the puzzle pieces were put back in place one by one.
Ivan's expression gradually became somewhat strange.
"This guy isn't just doing this to be a hero... saving the day, is he?"
He paused for a moment and corrected his wording.
"No, isn't it more like a damsel in distress saving a hero?"