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Witcher: The Half Elf

Wayne, a former sports student, found himself in an unexpectedly awkward situation after a fatal accident involving a dump truck. Instead of continuing his previous life, he was reborn as a half-elf-witcher at Kaer Morhen. This transformation left him feeling out of place in a world filled with unruly individuals, flourishing malevolent deities, rampant monsters, and inept kings and nobles. Yet, Wayne couldn't help but feel that he was endowed with numerous advantages. ______________________________ Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the fanfic I was merely translating this. Note: This is a Chinese Translation 巫师:这个猎魔人不务正业 You can support me on Patreon and Read 10 Chapters in advance patreon.com/Lil674

LIl_wretch · 書籍·文学
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290 Chs

Fierce Battle

Wayne cursed inwardly as he observed the eerie scene unfolding before him. He was well aware of the resemblance between the evil god Dagon and the tentacled horrors associated with Cthulhu.

Contemplating his next move amidst the unsettling atmosphere, Wayne suddenly noticed a group of thin acolytes emerging from a crevice in the cave. Unlike their naked counterparts, these slender acolytes donned simple linen shirts and adorned themselves with bone, coral, and pearl ornaments. Their attire suggested a ceremonial significance, perhaps signifying a revered role in acolyte society.

The acolytes marched forward, each bearing containers crafted from sea animal bones and filled with fresh blood. Strange little octopuses, no larger than eggs, wriggled within the crimson liquid. Leading the procession was an acolyte distinguished by his hunched posture, bloodshot eyes, and a staff emitting an ominous black light. Most notably, his chin sported six black tentacles, which writhed constantly.

Taken aback by this unexpected development, Wayne swiftly retreated to his hiding spot, cautiously observing the newly arrived group of acolytes.

Within a matter of minutes, the group swiftly approached the blood pool at the center of the altar. Uttering an unknown incantation, they emptied their containers of blood and small octopuses into the pool. With utmost humility, they then arranged themselves in neat rows around the pool, continuing their mysterious chants while bowing deeply.

Led by the peculiar acolyte, who wielded a metal staff, the group chanted their incantation rhythmically, the rhythmic thumping of the staff adding an eerie melody to their song. As the chants resonated, the strange octopuses within the blood pool grew increasingly active, tentatively inserting their tentacles into the mouths and noses of six bound hostages, causing them to stir and struggle unconsciously.

Even from his hiding spot, Wayne felt the unsettling influence of the chants, as if something slimy were tainting his spirit, leaving him in a trance-like state. Realizing the urgency of the situation, he swiftly applied a charged Quen Sign to himself before retrieving three highly explosive bombs from his pocket.

As the fuses ignited, the acolytes, engrossed in their sacrificial ritual, remained unaware of the imminent danger. Their dazed expressions turned to horror as the bombs landed among them, erupting in fiery explosions.

Bang!Bang!Bang!

The alchemical bombs obliterated the rows of acolyte priests before they could react, reducing them to mangled corpses.

Without hesitation, Wayne rushed to the blood pool, swiftly freeing the six hostages from their bindings and removing the tentacles from their faces with his silver sword.

Unfortunately, despite Wayne's efforts, the six individuals showed no signs of waking up and remained unconscious, tumbling into the blood pool as if in a stupor. However, Wayne had little time to check on their condition. The explosion of the bomb had alerted all the acolyte guards in the cave. Approximately twenty to thirty guards, along with the six elite acolytes, were roused from their slumber, emitting strange shrieks as they charged toward Wayne in a frenzy.

In the midst of the chaos, Wayne caught sight of the special acolyte, the one with tentacles sprouting from its chin, miraculously surviving the blast. Despite its mutilated state, it rose to its feet, wielding a unique metal staff and issuing commands to the other acolyte. With no time to strategize, Wayne took a deep breath, gripping his silver sword tightly as he lunged towards the special acolyte with remarkable speed.

As the saying goes "capture the thief first," A team with a command and a mob without a command are two different concepts. In any case, it is definitely the right choice to kill this acolyte who seems to have the highest status.

Unexpectedly, seeing Wayne rushing towards it, the special acolyte didn't panic at all. It hit the ground heavily with the staff in its hand, unleashing a strange power that caused the nearby acolyte priest corpses to explode into a gruesome shower of flesh and blood.

As the blood and gore splattered around the special acolyte, it transformed into a grotesque figure, encased in a layer of sticky flesh and blood armor, expanding its figure to nearly two meters.

Seeing this, Wayne narrowed his eyes, his thoughts turned sharply, and he immediately had an idea.

He stopped seven or eight meters away from the special acolyte. He reached out and took out two alchemy bombs filled with silver-white liquid from his pocket. Without thinking, he threw them towards the special acolyte.

The special acolyte also seemed to have sensed the danger, and immediately waved its flesh and-blood arms and slapped the two bombs in the air.

Bang!Bang!

There were two dull blasting sounds, and as soon as it came into contact, the silver-white alchemy bomb exploded in the hand of the acolyte. Accompanied by the low temperature and hoarfrost, an extremely cold breath instantly enveloped an area several meters wide, including the acolyte's arm and body, as well as its flesh and blood armor, all covered with a layer of hard frost in a very short time.

This is the north wind bomb, a special alchemy bomb developed by the Witcher. It can freeze enemies within a very short period of time. It is expensive to make, but it is extremely effective against those with flesh and blood.

And at the moment when the special acolyte was frozen, Wayne did not hesitate at all, and instantly condensed a charged Aard sign in his left hand, and his body immediately rushed in front of it. As his palm pushed forward violently, an extremely swift shock wave directly shook the armor of the special acolyte.

In the sound of ice shattering, together with the body of the acolyte, the entire armor was broken into fist-sized ice cubes, and was shaken into pieces by Aard sign.

With a bang, the metal staff that lost its owner was also sent flying several meters, and hit the ground with a bang, the sound was quite ear-piercing. And those acolytes who rushed towards Wayne seemed to be shocked by Wayne's violent killing method, and even the indomitable momentum of the acolyte group was weakened a bit.

Despite the enemy's hesitation, Wayne's movements did not stoped at all. Before the group could fully surround him, he swiftly chose a direction and charged forward, brandishing his silver sword.

Employing a strategy of trading injuries for lives, Wayne deftly dodged the acolyte's powerful attacks, allowing their ordinary strikes to glance off his armor and Quen shield. Meanwhile, his silver sword struck swiftly, harvesting the lives of the acolytes with each swing.

With a combination of slashes, stabs, and augmented by the power of Quen sign, Wayne swiftly dispatched the siege of more than a dozen acolytes, reducing them to scattered corpses.

After approximately ten minutes of relentless combat, during which over 30 acolytes fell to Wayne's blade, even the dim-witted acolytes began to understand the concepts of fear and invincibility. With their morale shattered and lacking the guidance of their priest, they turned and fled the cave in disarray, resembling a panicked mob.

Only Wayne was left supporting the ground with his silver sword, letting the stinky blood and pieces of meat drip on the ground, panting and standing among the corpses, looking down at their fleeing backs.