Assassins (End)

The four met the two in the front of a tavern. The rain stopped, but wind and dark weather remained, bringing a creaking noise from the forest. They didn't talk, only dismounted.

Every single move like flowing water, fast and accurate.

Alan and Geralt slapped their horses respectively and cleared the road, standing shoulder to shoulder. Ten steps away the four lined up with grim faces.

The door opened and the cat got out lazily. It froze the moment its head looked over the people and hissed at Geralt.

"Cats hate you." - said Alan, dragging out his steel sword from a black scabbard. A bolt of turquoise lightning flashed inside his gaze, burning with aqua flame. His sword trembled slightly and its edge basked in dim jade light.

"I hate them too." - said Geralt, staring at the golden eyes of the fourth man, who unsheathed one of the two swords on his back.

"I thought it will be an undemanding job, but here I am. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. Just my luck." - said the man. His normal build hid tremendous power, granted by mutagens. - "Hey, I came here to escort the lad, not to kill him. So, how about that? Just turn around and leave. There is no need to fight, right?"

Geralt silently unsheathed the sword.

"That fucker." - cursed a tall man with long hands and two Zerikanian blades on the back.

"Language, Yaxa. Let us first indulge in the proper negotiation process, as I would like to believe we all are intelligent humans. Sorry, not all of us humans in terms of biological structure, but that never stands as an inconvenience in process of speech." - a man with hawk-like face fixed little glasses on his face. They sparkled in dim lighting.

The three moved to the side.

"You have two choices." - sounded husky voice. - "One of you comes forward and tells me who hired you. And you can leave. Or you come together. Choose."

"That fucker." - repeated himself Little Yaxa with tension brewing inside his body.

"I always wanted to see whether White Wolf is like they said. The best swordsman in the world."

Witcher from the school of a cat moved forward. Geralt twirled his sword in hand.

"I've heard that a lot. They all end up in one place. Grave. Sometimes without a yard." - said Geralt and seamlessly moved forward.

Professor looked at his target through the glasses and the trio griped their swords at his nod.

"That witcher from cat school is not with us. He is here to capture alive, while we are to kill. So let's do it and retreat. Surround him, Yaxa, try from the back." - he stepped forward accurately and heard a clanging sound from the side.

'Fuck, are they even human?'

"Hehe, he is just a brat, what can go wrong?" - laughed a man with a pale face and sleazy long hair.

Alan glanced at Geralt and cat school witcher. They moved like a hurricane, shifting as ghosts. Water from the ground went to the air, their steps and speed created a vapor cloud. Swords tingling echoed amidst it.

'I'll be damned... every time I see Geralt in action it makes my hair stand on ends.'

Alan took only a second to watch it, the same for the three killers.

They moved, trying to surround him. Alan shifted to the side.

Two swords came for him from the front, he dodged one with a sidestep, deflected the other with a sword, and immediately slanted his head to the side, sensing wind howl from the attack at the head.

The Professor seeing his accurate moves cursed but still went for the thrust in the stomach.

Alan used his gauntlet to offset it and kicked him in the gut. The man expected many things, but not the sheer force of it. He wanted to withstand the kick forcefully.

Air escaped his lungs as his entire body lost footing, slamming at the fence and rolling inside the henhouse.

"Fuck! He is strong! The hell! Didn't he say the kid never underwent mutation? The fuck is that then?" - cursed Professor and coughed blood out. His lungs suffered damage. He crawled back to his feet and saw the scene that made him shocked.

Heimo was kicked in the leg and fell to the floor, but Yaxa at that moment went for another attack.

That's when it all happened.

Their target moved as fast as a ghost, parrying with his sword, however, when it touched the first blade it just cut through it like a dry twig!

Yaxa, as a master, reacted faster than expected. He immediately backed away, but still suffered a cut. The thing that made Professor hold still came after that. The young freak of nature didn't move. He didn't catch up and use his advantage. No.

He cut the air horizontally on the level of his comrade's head.

And the air responded in kind. It was cut open, leaving a turquoise rupture in the space itself, while the sword's blade seemed to go somewhere unrelated to current reality.

Yet, it was not so.

The same cut in space appeared in front of Yaxa simultaneously and the missing blade blurred through his neck and spine, sending the head flying up. One can still see the flabbergasted expression on the horse-like face.

Meanwhile, Heimo witnessing this lunged forward and thrust the sword in Alan's heart. In the corner of his eyes, the latter saw a flash of light in the air and a whistling sound. He cut the blade in half and immediately went down.

Someone screamed. Water was splashed under the hurried footsteps, Alan rolled to the side, avoiding a sword and punched the chin of the man. Glassed broke from the hit. Shining shard entered the foe's eyes.

The wind broke again, the young witcher shifted to the side like a ghost, and another head went in the air. It had bleeding eyes.

Alan turned to the last assassin.

"You fucking monster, fucking freak!" - screamed Heimo and tried to get him with a dagger he took from the boot, but only saw a flash of light and pain gripped his heart, shooting from a severed palm by the wrist.

'Fuck, I'll die here like that... I will really fucking die!'

He turned around and ran for the door, slamming it open. A bright light greeted him with a warmer atmosphere. Yet, a turquoise dot appeared from the front. It grew bigger to present a short rupture in space, from which sword impaled him. Witcher steel went through the leather armor, cut chainmail like butter easily severed penetrated ribcage, and impaled his chest.

He shook, made two uneven steps forward, swallowing air, and letting out an incomprehensible death rattle of his human life, fell over. Despite all that, he still held the hilt of the sword, that lost its blade.

The owner looked flabbergasted at the body. His vision followed the bloody trail. He never saw something like that. He locked his gaze with a figure, standing amidst the darkness with a sword in hand.

Those eyes, burning with turquoise lightning, will remain in his memory for the rest of his life. They were impassive eyes of a true predator. They were cold, distant, and emanated vibes of oppressive power. He felt naked in front of this gaze as if it penetrated directly through his heart and mind.

The door slowly moved, hiding the young man bit by bit, as owner lost sight of one eye, and finally the dreadful visage dissipated in the night.

The door closed with a slam.

The wind was very strong outside.

Everyone in the inn was silent. Messenger remembered the warning. Thank the gods he listened.

The door was opened again, and two people walked in. One was a man with white hair and piercing eyes of a snake. The other a youth he saw.

"Sir owner, if some kind people come to bother you about the three unfortunate fellows outside..." - he gazed at the body by his side. The viscous pool of crimson liquid was spreading slowly under it. - "...and one inside, you just need to tell that Uidewen, Sky Flame of Wolf School, and Geralt of Rivia killed them. As for reward. And I'm sure for those hired killers one can get a sizable sum, just take it as a fee for the caused inconvenience to you and the guests of your respectable establishment. Do we understand each other?"

The owner nodded, like on the verge of passing out.

"Don't worry, the guys were bad people with a questionable way to make the living. Well, farewell, owner. Your porridge was rather good. At least I found real pork there."

The cat hissed at Geralt.

"I really hate cats." - grumbled Geralt. He really felt like grumbling, so he grumbled.

"Let's go to Gors Velen. You, my old man, have a relationship to fix."

"What relationship?" - played idiot the witcher and escaped to his horse.

"Are you serious? I can teleport, you can't run." - laughed Alan, feeling the residual adrenaline from the fight getting into his head. He forgoes the control of Eternal Mind and relaxation washed over with some strange emotional drunkenness.

Let it be so. Just for today.