The Divine Hunter

In the evening, the dark clouds that had enveloped Vizima throughout the afternoon had all dissipated.

The sky was washed by the rain, blue and clear, and hung with a dreamy rainbow.

At this time, the witchers have searched most of the settlements of the lion-faced spider cultists and found some anomalies.

This group of believers has a variety of identities, including merchants, low-level coolies, artisans, beggars, soldiers in service, government officials in Vizima, and even serial killers.

Except for the washerwomen and couples that the witchers initially found, nearly half of the cultists chose to commit suicide.

And they all found a hidden place to sleep for their bodies before they died, such as the locked basement, the storage room under the corridor, the attic behind the ceiling... It seems that they are delaying the discovery of the body.

As for the method of death, cutting the wrist to commit suicide is only one of the mildest methods, and there are those who drink rat poison and the most tragic sex.

Facing the unrecognizable black and charred corpses, the witcher was extremely surprised, what kind of psychology, or what kind of strength supported them, so that they could endure the pain of the flames burning flesh without shouting loudly, sighing at them. Outsiders ask for help.

In other words, they took their actions as martyrdom.

"It's really evil!"

Beside this group of suicides, the witchers all discovered their scriptures without exception, recording some scattered notes, some like diaries, and almost crazy self-analysis, these words roughly pieced together the life of the recorder:

A group of miserable people who have suffered some life-shattering upheaval; or psychopaths, whose distorted worldview is described in detail in the canon.

It is not surprising that the lion-faced spider, an evil and cruel god who admires the sacrifice of living people, usually only attracts the neurotic and lunatic.

Normal people would take the initiative to stay away from it, so the Cult of Bad Omens has developed in Vizima for decades, and there are only dozens of believers.

The dead didn't give the witcher any clues about Abigail.

As for the other half of the believers, perhaps they felt that it was not time to fall into the arms of the lion-faced spider, and quietly evacuate from Vizima before Yada asked them to settle accounts. They swept away everything of value in the house, leaving only an empty room for the witcher.

...

"There is one last Christian left.

"

The three witchers came to the poorest street in the Temple District, the arched alley.

In the narrow alley, an old man in ragged clothes sat cross-legged on the ground paved with bluestone. Because it had just rained and the ground was wet and cold, he could only curl up his skinny body like a poor stray dog, shivering while chanting some vague words with his head down.

"Ding!"

A piece of copper fell into his empty bowl... But the old beggar's face didn't change, his eyes were still empty and numb.

"Hey!" The witcher squatted down and stared straight at him, this beggar, with a face with high cheekbones, dark eyes, a sunken nose, and black lips, looked like a skull wrapped in dry skin. .

He was draped in a tattered canvas, exposing the ribs on his chest. His hair was messy, stuck in clumps of dandruff and greasy, and lice could still be seen moving between the gray strands.

There was an unpleasant sour odor all over.

He glanced up and lowered his head again, ignoring the witcher, not even bothering to say a word of thanks.

"Black Greba..." the witcher read to him, "Zoran Ah Tra..."

The old beggar laughed suddenly weakly, showing his black and yellow rotten teeth at the three witchers.

"I haven't seen you..." As if he hadn't eaten for several days, his voice was weak, hoarse, and there seemed to be a mouthful of phlegm in his throat. "But I know who you are, heretics, lackeys of the goddess of the lake. Don't try to fool me."

"Old man, are you tired of living?" Oaks bared his teeth and grinned at him, showing a ferocious expression, his palm pressed the hilt of the sword behind his back, and the old beggar looked directly at him without fear.

"Old Jill... Forget it, I'll still call you Bilavis?" Roy stopped Oaks, and Anjin's eyes flashed a hidden light, "Don't be surprised, not only do I know your real name, I also know You were born in Maripo, this year...forty-eight...a believer of the Lion-faced spider!"

"Who are you?" The old beggar's face was moved. He never told anyone this information except his own god.

"For the sake of fairness, why don't you answer me a question first?" Roy said, without waiting for the other party's response, he asked, "Your church members committed suicide, fled for refugees, and you are a mere beggar, how come there are still Continuing to stay in Vizima confidently, is it possible that we are waiting for us to catch you?"

"It's hard to live outside, and you go to jail for a meal?" Serrit added.

The old beggar was not irritated by the witcher's words at all, but leaned against the wall and smiled strangely.

"I was wrong... You are not heretics, you are ignorant and unbelievers." A beggar with a humble identity, but at this time looked at the three with a look of superiority, overlooking and pity.

"Fleeing is an act of betraying the gods and suffering endless torture after death. Therefore, there is no word escape in Old Jill's dictionary. If you are willing to understand and believe in the Lord, I can reluctantly be a guide for you and let you escape from ignorance. The vortex." The old beggar maintained a dignified expression on his dirty and ugly face, and a ray of holy light appeared in his turbid pupils.

"Follow my lord, and my lord will grant you the right to enter the eternal net."

The three witchers exchanged glances, and they all thought it was absurd that a beggar was trying to brainwash them.

"Everyone can say nice things, but it can't hide the ugliness. Bilavis, since running away is a blasphemous act, how could your respected priest Abigail become a blasphemer?"

The old beggar was silent and seemed extremely sensitive to Abigail's topic.

"Think about it..." Roy sighed, "Since you don't run away, why don't you learn from your own friends and martyr yourself, you are still afraid..."

"Self-suffering is the path that the great Zhuo Lan has guided them, but it is not my destination... nor is it the fate of the priest."

"The lion-faced spider will also decide the way of death of the believer? Then what is your end point?" Serrit grinned and showed his white teeth, his eyes sharp as knives.

The old beggar raised his head and stretched his jet-black neck, with relief in his eyes.

"We will not kill you, poor man, the Knight of the White Rose will let you down."

Roy finally threw another copper into the broken bowl and pretended to leave.

The old beggar breathed a sigh of relief, but the witcher who was supposed to leave suddenly turned around and drew a green inverted triangle with his fingers towards his sight.

Fayin reflected in the eyes of the old beggar, and he lost himself in an instant.

"Bilavis, now let's talk frankly and honestly." Roy asked while maintaining the Axif seal in his hand.

"Why did Abigail deal with Yada?"

"Totem..." The old beggar's pupils lost focus and resistance, and replied mechanically, "Yada stole Zhuolan's sacred totem. Zhuolan is angry. The believers sacrificed their lives to appease our Lord, But it's not enough, it wants revenge."

In Roy's mind, in the underground sanctuary, behind the altar of bones, the banner depicting the lion-faced spider, which is full of the beliefs of the believers, and the belief that the lady in the lake once plundered the altar of Dagan, then the lion-faced spider. The totem of her is also an excellent tonic.

As her priest, Yada will naturally not let this thing go.

That being said, the Cult of Bad Omens and the Church of Virtue have already been completely at odds with each other, and there is no possibility of any reconciliation.

"Grab food from the mouth of the lion-faced spider, no wonder..." Yada did not reveal this to the witcher.

"So, where is Abigail now?"

"She's... she's..." The old beggar's voice became intermittent, his expression suddenly tense and then relaxed.

"Think about it, you know, she's safe, right? Hiding in an unexpected place?" the witcher guided softly.

However, the old beggar suddenly began to shake his head, swing wildly, his wrists and ankles stretched straight, his body began to twitch, his mouth made a low and terrifying sound of "uh, uh, uh", and his eyes were between pitch black and pale white. Stop transforming.

Worse than epilepsy.

Roy moved away from him subconsciously, and Oaks and Serret drew out the silver swords of the Snake faction.

This situation lasted for about ten seconds. When the old beggar stopped twitching, his face flushed blood red, the veins on his neck were abrupt, and his eyes turned completely black.

What's even more bizarre is that next he became like a human-shaped spider, his hands and feet were recurved, his waist and back were close to the wall behind him, and he used both hands and feet contrary to common sense, and climbed to the top of the arch.

Looking down at the three demon hunters, his dark eyes were like an abyss.

"The blasphemer, the sinner!" The old beggar made a completely different voice from before, like a voice made up of countless men, women and children roaring together.

The gust of wind was blowing in place, making his hair flutter in disorder.

"Roy, Oaks, Serrit, the snake demon hunters, I curse you!" he said hoarsely, "I curse you in the name of Black Greba, forever—"

"boom--"

With an Arder seal, the old beggar's remaining words were blocked in his mouth, and then a cold light flashed in the air, and the cold light lingered briefly in the air, forming a half-moon-shaped afterimage.

When the afterimage disappeared, Roy threw off the blood from the sword and reinserted Arndette into the scabbard behind his back. At the same time, a round head rolled to his feet.

The grim-faced old beggar did not rest his eyes until he died.

With his death, all the visions around him came to an abrupt end.

"How do you feel, is there any discomfort?"

Oakes shook his head, still having some lingering fears, "The curse must have been interrupted."

Roy confirmed it with observation, and the state of the two brothers was not abnormal at all.

And myself, the health status in the attribute template has not changed,

"The curse doesn't seem to take effect. What's the reason?" The witcher looked at the 20 points of experience added, and thoughtfully, "Is it because I harvested his soul?"

Under the template, all living beings are equal, and those killed by him will be turned into experiences.

He became more and more certain.

The old beggar, Bilavis, never had the chance to return to what he called the "Eternal Web".

The only thing that greeted him was - nothingness?

"Next time, you have to shoot faster." Roy was a little unwilling. "It's a pity that the last clues have ended here, and I couldn't find out Abigail's whereabouts."

"Boy... You still want to continue, the blood of the ancients didn't send out a little warning? I don't want to follow any more anyway!" Serrit looked solemn,

"Second!" Oakes felt the same way, "We'd better not go into the muddy waters this time."