novelraw Chapter 16: Want to Play a Round of Gwent?
Chapter 16: Want to Play a Round of Gwent?
There was no need for the dwarf Zoltan to talk much, and Kiriman had no intention of sparing this group of bandits either.
After cleanly slicing with his sword, he did not retract his longsword as usual. Instead, he unexpectedly gripped the hilt and forcefully threw it behind him.
The sharp Temerian steel sword cut through the air with a rushing sound, instantly piercing through the chest of another bandit, pinning him to a pillar.
At this moment, the bandit set aflame by Igni was still alive, writhing and screaming on the ground.
Whether it was him, the bandit holding his own intestines in disbelief after his belly was torn open, or the one nailed to the pillar struggling to pull himself free—the screams of these three bandits finally snapped the others back to reality.
The bandits knew that if they did not fight desperately now, they would all be slaughtered.
One bandit seized the moment when Kiriman was unarmed, roaring in either fear or rage, swinging his axe with full force to take down this terrifying enemy before him.
However, his speed was insignificant before a Witcher.
Kiriman only retreated half a step to the right, perfectly dodging the attack, then punched hard with his left fist into the bandit's abdomen. His right hand drew the Viper Fang dagger left behind by Kovirghm from his belt.
With a soft slicing sound, the dagger pierced straight into the bandit's temple without hesitation, bringing out a lot of yellowish-white brain matter.He kicked away the now completely dead bandit on the ground, disdainfully flicking the brain matter off the dagger, then skillfully twirled the dagger in his hand.
In Kovirghm’s memory, Witchers of the Viper School were not only adept with longswords but also skilled in using daggers for close combat.
Now, this unique Viper Fang dagger in Kiriman’s hands would become a deadly weapon for short-range fights and covert assassinations.
Kiriman thought about these things, his face expressionless, but his cold gaze was like a blade staring mercilessly at the two remaining bandits.
Perhaps frightened by his ruthless killing method, panic quickly spread among the bandits. The two finally could not hold on. One of them saw Kiriman’s conspicuous beastly vertical pupils and immediately recognized his identity.
Shouting “Monster!” “Mutant!” and the like, he tried to escape through the inn’s back door.
However, the dwarf Zoltan confronting him was no pushover either.
Seeing the enemy in chaos, he seized the opportunity to chop down one bandit's knee with his axe, knocking him to the ground. Without hesitation, Zoltan raised the axe high and mercilessly chopped down on the bandit's skull.
The immense force split the bandit’s head in half like a watermelon, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere, causing the dwarf to laugh triumphantly, as if relishing a sense of vengeance.
However, the dwarf’s legs were too short. Even with all his strength, he could only take down one bandit.
The last bandit took advantage of the time, abandoned his weapon in panic, and rushed to escape through the inn’s back door.
Unfortunately, if it had been Geralt, he might have softened and let him go. But Grandmaster Kiriman was no kind-hearted person.
Just as the bandit reached the door, a loaded crossbow suddenly appeared in Kiriman’s hand. With a bang, the bolt shot out, piercing precisely through the last bandit's back of the head, ending this massacre-like battle.
………………
More than ten minutes later, the bandits’ bodies were stripped naked and discarded not far from the inn, left to nature’s disposal.
Kiriman, however, had no qualms. In front of the dwarf, he searched through the bodies first, taking all the valuables, then used a soul-seizing mark to capture the souls of six bandits.
These were the spoils he deserved, and no one could take that right from him.
Absorbing the six bandits’ souls would take two days of wear. With his current soul space capacity, he could hold at most ten human souls simultaneously. Killing too many intelligent beings was a waste for him.
Zoltan didn’t say much, perhaps not fully understanding what the Witcher was doing. He scratched his head, then excitedly returned to the inn, busying himself at the stove to cook what was said to be a unique dwarf dish.
As a gesture of thanks, Kiriman didn’t have to worry about dinner tonight. The heavy work had been done by the dwarf, so he leaned back in a worn wooden chair, eyes half-closed, just waiting.
It was late now. Although the inn reeked of blood, roughing it out here for one night was still better than sleeping outdoors.
After several dozen minutes, Zoltan enthusiastically brought a bottle of specially brewed dwarf strong liquor, braised meat ribs, and wild vegetable soup to Kiriman’s side.
First expressing his gratitude, he then poured a cup of wine for Kiriman, curiously asking:
“Hey, buddy, are you also a Witcher?”
“Do you know Geralt? The White Wolf Geralt? He’s my friend and also a Witcher.”
As a poison-immune Witcher, Kiriman had no worries that the dwarf might poison the food. He took a sip of the wine, then smiled and nodded.
“The famous White Wolf Geralt? Of course, I know him.”
“However, although I’m also a Witcher, I’m not from the same school as him, and we’ve never crossed paths.”
“If there’s a chance, you could introduce us. I’m quite interested in him too.” Chapters first released on N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
Zoltan was a warm and straightforward dwarf. Hearing this, he immediately patted his chest and promised:
“You just helped me out. Without you, even if I managed to kill these damn bandits, I’d definitely have been injured myself.”
“From now on, you’re a friend of Zoltan. Whenever you need help, just tell me.”
However, his expression quickly turned somewhat sad as he said:
“Unfortunately, it’s already too late. Geralt died last year, right after the Battle of Brenna, in a conflict between humans and non-human races.”
“The Massacre of Livya — have you heard of it?”
Following this topic, they talked for quite some time.
From the conversation, Kiriman learned that Zoltan had also participated in that brutal battle last year, suffered serious injuries, and had been recuperating in Carbon Mountain.
Only one or two months ago did he recover and receive a letter from another dwarf friend, preparing to descend the mountain to earn money.
But just upon arrival here, he encountered this shady inn and these human bandits.
If not for Kiriman, he would probably have been injured again and needed more rest.
As they chatted, the bottle of strong liquor was drained, and Zoltan, still reluctant to sleep, suddenly pulled out a stack of exquisitely made cards from his pocket and waved them at Kiriman, saying:
“Hey! Kiriman, my friend.”
“Want to play Gwent?”
“This is a really fun game I learned from the dwarves in Carbon Mountain. I heard it’s very popular in many places now.”
“I happened to bring two decks; I can give you one as a gift.”
“Want to play? I can teach you!”