The Divine Hunter

Chapter 564: The Eighth Sign

Chapter 564: The Eighth Sign

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Colorful elemental particles rained across the skies like chromatic comets. The burning particles of flames were like ribbons shining with crimson light, and they surrounded the witcher, cocooning him

The silent heart once again started to beat, reviving itself all the while playing a mystical tune. The element of fire burst forth from the dark space, along with the plane of fire hanging high up in the skies. The flames from both sides charged across the space between them, nourishing the crimson cocoon standing in between.

And then, the cocoon was torn. A pair of shining talons clawed their way out from within, then a male creature made of gaseous flames emerged. Its shoulders were broad, its back wide as mountains. Its nose resembled a lion’s, and its mouth was like a maw. Its eyes were made of the most exquisite rubies in existence, and they burned with flames. Horns jutted from its forehead, ancient runes engraved upon their surface. Its red hair tumbled down its shoulder and wrapped itself around its neck and chest, forming a mane. Glimpses of fire flared in its throat every time it opened its maw.

***

Roy the ifrit stared at his fiery form, and a small smile cracked his lips. Compared to Mirmulnir's form, the ifrit had a lower affinity toward the four elements, but it was the king of flames. The fire element, proud and arrogant, was now huddled close to Roy, talking to him, worshipping him. Roy held his left hand in a fist, and a whip of fire appeared, without need for spells or incantations.

He cracked the whip, filling the air with flames and light.

***

Roy had been ameliorating his soul for more than a month since he woke from his third Trial. With his powerful soul and incredible meditating skills, Roy could finally keep this form stable, and now it was time for the next step.

.

He conjured a thought, and the particles of flames quickly formed gigantic hands, taking him away from the elemental planes. Slowly, Roy descended into the ground. The earth that prohibited his entry was gone. The element of fire was part of the world's foundation, and ifrits were part of this world's system. The planet would not reject its entry.

Just like how Roy could easily sink into the earth back in Skyrim with his dragon form, Roy the ifrit easily sank into the depths of the witcher world. The light was slowly getting dimmer and dimmer, while the air was getting thinner and thinner. Temperatures were declining, and the only thing that was constant was the all-encompassing darkness.

Roy rode his flames, penetrating the crust, then the upper mantle, then lower mantle. Slowly, he made his way to the center of the planet.

A long, long time later, a sliver of crimson light tore through the darkness, then the sliver became a beam. What was a flickering light a moment ago had turned into a great ball of flames like the sun hanging high above the skies.

The temperature skyrocketed. A moment ago, it was a hundred degrees under zero, but now it was a thousand degrees. The rustling of elements had disappeared, replaced by a sound far louder and stronger. The air hissed like steam, the water roared like a raging river. Roy had finally arrived at the outer core of the planet's center, where liquid flames flowed.

There were no Bones of the Earth here, unlike Nirn. There was a shell of an egg made of flames and magma. An egg a billion times larger than its regular counterpart. On the top of the shell were a ceiling of red stalactities. They were falling into the fiery ocean underneath, but the stalactites were vaporized before they could hit the sea, filling the air with the stench of sulfur.

Underneath the shell was a river of flames made of fire and magma. It roared, galloped, and charged downstream, spitting flames and magma in every direction. The outer core was a few thousand degrees hot, its air filled with enough particles of flames to rival that of the fire elemental plane's surroundings.

To Roy the ifrit, however, this was like home to him. He floated upon the river of magma, spreading his arms like he was embracing his mother, his conical lower body swimming around the river. He could feel a hitherto unfelt density of fire energy swimming into his body. The energy condensed into a ball and welled from his heart. They were stuck in his throat, yearning for release.

The skill of Wingflap, one that Roy gleaned from the book of the Griffins, merged with that ball of energy within him. And then something roared. The voice riled up the river of flames, and the sea of fire roiled. Bubbles popped endlessly upon the surface of the red river. Magma burst open, and liquid flames fluttered in the air over the river.

A magma pillar more than thirty feet tall hurtled forth from the sea. It slithered in the air like a snake, leaving a path of flames in its wake. Steadily, the snake became a dragon that destroyed everything in its path. The pillar of flames kept flying upward, burning the mantle. It wished to break free of the core and leap into the surface.

Roy gave it an order. The dragon broke into countless shards of flames that rained down upon the seas.

The seven Signs flashed in his mind. First, the Signs of Axii and Clamp, with the element of water being their source of power. Then the Signs of Quen and Heliotrop, with the element of earth supplying them with their protective strength. Then the Signs of Aard and Yrden, their source of power drawn from the air.

And then, there was Igni. Sole Sign of the flames. It needed a partner, and Roy would grant it. Henceforth, the element of fire would have another Sign, and Roy dubbed it using his own name—Roy Magma.

A golden message popped up on the character sheet.

'You have created the eighth Sign and dubbed it after your name—Roy Magma.

Roy Magma: A Sign founded upon the force of a powerful soul and masterful meditation. With the soul turned into an ifrit and coupled with the mysterious powers of Wingflap, you may resonate with the core of the world you are in and summon the roiling magma within.'

Just like his dragon form summoning and Symphony of the Sword, Roy Magma had a cooldown of 17 minutes and 50 seconds.

***

Roy heaved a sigh of relief. He opened his eyes. The night was getting cold, and silence was its only companion. Roy was on his branch, staring around. The skies were filled with a galaxy of stars, while Geralt was sound asleep under his cloak.

Roy felt proud of himself. Moments ago, he created his own spell. The eighth Sign. One that didn't need any gestures. Akin to Dragon Shouts, it demanded the user bring forth the power of the earth with their soul and the power of sound.

For now, he was the only one who could use this Sign. No other witchers managed to max out their Meditation level just yet, and their souls were not as powerful as his. Roy Magma was out of their reach. For now.

Roy would tweak it until everyone could use it eventually.

***

The witcher nimbly leapt off the branch. He ran off into the dark wilderness.

***

A sliver of white broke through the skies as dawn tolled. A layer of cold, humid fog hung in the air, dewdrops gleaming on the leaves of the greenery around the campsite.

Roy had returned after a session of night training, leaving scorched earth in the wilderness miles away from the campsite, out of everyone's sight. Or knowledge.

The campsite was hearing its first noise of the day. The children were folding their blankets and tents, then they packed up their belongings.

It was great to be young. After surviving the wilds for two weeks, the children could even sleep in the wilderness and wake up all refreshed.

The dwarves were getting prepared for the journey as well. Their side of the camp rustled, and their steeds stomped and whinnied. The wheels turned and creaked, and the dwarves cursed.

Yarpen's voice rumbled the air, and he approached the witchers, leading Vilfrid.

"I do not object to our traveling together, witchers," Vilfrid said. "I trust Vilfrid, and he trusts you." Vilfrid didn't think the witchers would hurt them. If they wanted to, they would've taken out everyone the night before.

The dwarf grinned at the witchers.

"But there is one issue." Vilfrid scanned the children who were packing up. "I must arrive at my destination safely and on time, or it's off with my head. It doesn't escape my notice that you have a lot of children with you."

"They're as healthy as any dwarven lad," Yarpen guaranteed. "I don't think they'll drag us down. And we're passing through the woods leading to Lixela. It's home to a lotta evil monsters, that's what I heard."

"You make a compelling argument." Vilfrid nodded. He looked the witchers in the eyes. "It is entirely possible to run into evil monsters in Kaedwenian woods. Monsters riled by something more sinister. They would attack any passing caravan, including yours. His Majesty has predicted this, and he has vested upon me the power to hire any passing warriors to join us. What do you make of that offer?"

Roy and the witchers exchanged a look. Obviously, these monsters were the Squirrels. If this was before the slaughter at Novigrad, the neutral Wolves would've refused Vilfrid's offer. They disliked the Squirrels, though they would not hunt them down. However, things had changed.

"We'll make sure our traveling partners don't get killed." Vesemir nodded.

"That is excellent news." A small smile cracked Vilfrid's quiet face. "And I shall be in charge of your personal well-being until we reach Lixela. Happy partnership."

Everyone went back to their caravans and shouted orders to leave. The coaches hopped onto the carriages and pulled on the reins. The horses cantered down the path, while the team of witchers closely followed them.

The horses took two to three children each on their backs. Some were in the carriages, while the apprentices walked on foot. It was good training. Sometimes they would also sit down in the carriages and dangle their legs around.

"Roy, when I-I was patrolling l-last night, I-I heard some s-strange noises." Barney tugged on his reins and brought his carriage around a tree before him. He then took the bottle of Mahakaman spirit from Roy and hid it in his bushy beard. "'Twas from l-late night t-till dawn. S-Sometimes it was a whisper, b-b-but sometimes i-it was a roar. L-Like a d-demon, I-I thought. R-Reminded me o-of the l-leshen. I-I tried to find it, b-but there was nothing. Y-You're the monster e-expert here. A-Any ideas?"

Roy was surprised. What kind of hearing is that? I was miles away testing my Sign! "You heard it right," Roy lied. "I found a ghoul last night a couple miles away, but it's sleeping now. Forever."

Barney's eyes went wide with astonishment. "Y-You've grown. T-Taller, and s-stronger too," he stammered, his voice filled with pride. "B-But 'tis a-a shame you don't have a-a beard. O-Or chest hair." He scanned Roy's smooth chin and chest. Barney commented, "Y-Yer pretty. E-Even if you want to m-marry a dwarf, n-no one's gonna m-marry you."

Roy massaged his temples and shook his head, smiling. "I've said this once, I'll say it twice. I am not going to marry any dwarven women. They're not my style. And I have someone already."

"Y-You mean t-the sorceress?" The dwarf looked at Coral, who was walking with the children. Her skin was smooth and supple, her dress frilly, and her curves beautiful as a mountain's. Even on this journey, the sorceress made sure she had light makeup on. Her crimson hair billowed in the wind, covering part of her face. Noticing Roy and Barney looking at her, she smiled.

She was gorgeous, but alas, unlike dwarven women, she lacked a beautiful beard. A-At least i-it's better than n-none. Barney raised a thumbs up.

Roy leaned on the back of the carriage and stared at the dwarf ahead. Paulie was wearing a red scarf around his neck, driving a carriage. Grimm was fiddling with his hand crossbow and hammer. There was an urge to battle flaring in his eyes.

By Freya and Melitele, can he stop his obsession already? "What about you, Barney? How's life in Kaedwen?"

Barney ruminated over that question. "Kaedwen h-has not many d-dwarves, b-but the people are n-nice. I like t-them. Straightf-f-forward. A-Ain't gonna b-be t-two faced a-and..."

Reminded of a certain someone, Roy smiled. "Backstab you?"

"Yes!" Barney was spewing foam everywhere. It was like talking to a kin. "A-And when the w-weather gets cold, t-they love t-to get meat a-and drink a-and cuss a-and have a r-round of G-Gwent."

The dwarf thought about his next words long and hard. "I-I think someone s-said this. H-Humans are all s-savages, but K-Kaedwen i-is the worst of the l-lot. It's l-like someone dressed p-pigs up a-and taught them h-how to walk o-on their hind legs. S-Snorts all the time. S-Smells like a p-pig too."

Barney tried his best to praise the people of Kaedwen. "T-They're like us. L-Loves c-crude humor. C-Cusses like a d-dwarf too."

***

"Been a rough year for you guys too, Yarpen?"

Roy listened closely. That was a question asked by Geralt. He and Yarpen were engaged in a solemn political conversation.

Yarpen was angrily laying out the relationship between ancient races and humans and betrayal in general, then he sprinkled his opinion in too. He told Geralt that humans killed his mother's mother, and yet he set that grudge aside and lent a human kingdom his services. All he wanted was peace. Still, his fury failed to fully cover for the worried tone in his voice.

Vilfrid was further in the front of the caravan, and he too was listening in.

"Ain't got a good feelin' a-about this." Barney hung his head low, staring at the soil and gravel on the ground. He muttered, "H-Henselt a-ain't trusting us a-as much any-anymore. I-I can feel it. H-He's distancin' hi-himself from us. L-Like how B-Brovar distanced himself f-from Yarpen and Z-Zoltan. H-Henselt probably sent us on t-this journey t-to kick us out o-of the city. W-Wanted us to deal w-with the Scoia'tael p-problem. I-It saddens me."

Roy clicked his tongue. He changed his opinion about Barney a little. The dwarf might look naive, but he could be smart if he wanted to. The witcher said, "More and more nonhumans are joining the Squirrels. Some look like they're on the humans' side, but the truth is they're helping the rebels get away from the soldiers. Of course humans are going to think their nonhuman friends will someday backstab them."

Roy said cryptically, "And it's going to get worse. Sooner or later, the line between nonhumans and Scoia'tael members are just going to be blurred. At least that's how it will look to humans."

Barney fell into silence, his face green. The conflict between the ancient races and Nordlings had existed since time immemorial. It was nigh impossible to calm it down, especially after Nilfgaard's promises to the nonhumans and riling up of their fury. The nonhumans had pledged their services to the South, becoming their vanguard.

This conflict would never end until all the ancient races were annihilated, or if they had a land they could call their own.

Roy heaved a sigh. And then he felt a chill run down his spine. He turned around and saw Vicki smiling sheepishly at him from the oxcart, her hair billowing in the breeze that crossed the woods. Renee and Lilia were waving at him happily.

Under Coral's guidance, the girls were making a painting of the caravan to pass the time. Roy, being the most attractive man in the team, was the center of the portrait.

"Barney, to be honest, what would you do if we ran into the Squirrels?" Roy looked at his friend.

Barney fell into silence. Uneasily, he patted his horse's tail.

"Do you expect them to show you mercy? Just because you're a nonhuman?" Roy changed his tactic.

Barney whipped out the bottle of liquor in his beard and took a big swig. He said, "I understand. I-I'm a drinker, a-a gambler, and a c-crass guy, b-but I'm l-loyal. W-We're on a mission f-for King Henselt. T-This is my duty. I-If anyone tries to t-take the supplies o-or trash the carriage, I-I'll fight them."

He patted the head of his warhammer. "T-They'll have to f-fight me. A-Ain't gonna take anythin' u-unless they g-get over my d-dead body."

***

The caravan traveled through the path in the forest, the air filled with the voices of witchers, humans, and dwarves.

***

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