In a certain unknown modern world, on a highway somewhere in the American Midwest.
Late at night, Leon Scott Kennedy, the blond, side-parted rookie cop who had been late on his very first day, was driving to Raccoon City for work while the radio blared country music.
When he parked by a roadside gas station to rest, he noticed that the lights in the attached convenience store were pitch-black. Then he heard a scream from inside, and the justice-filled rookie bravely went in.
During his investigation, Leon encountered a veteran cop who had been bitten to death, as well as a strange zombie that bit people. After warning it, he had no choice but to put it down.
When he hurriedly pushed the door open and left, a ponytailed figure flashed past. Leon instinctively raised his gun and aimed, only for a short blade to press against his neck from behind.
He did not dare move. The icy blade pressed in very tightly, cutting the skin and drawing blood.
Fortunately, the ponytailed figure was not a zombie, but a young woman. She walked closer and disarmed Leon. "That's enough, Ciri. He looks human."
The cold blade left his neck. Leon instinctively followed them out of the store, and instantly drew in a sharp breath. In just a few short minutes, the ground of the gas station parking lot had become densely covered with more than a dozen zombies from no one knew where, all of them separated from their heads.
He looked at the woman who had subdued him with the blade. She wore fantasy-style leather armor, carried a fantasy-style hand-and-a-half sword on her back, and had fantasy-style flowing white hair. She looked like exactly the person responsible for this scene.
In addition, her eyebrows were fine and thick, her smoky eye makeup matched her emerald-green eyes, and a conspicuous knife scar ran from below her left eye across most of her cheek.
Leon took out his badge and opened it. "Sorry for aiming a gun at you just now. I'm Leon Kennedy, Raccoon City Police. Who... who exactly are you? Do you know what's going on here?" Leon asked somewhat weakly.
The red-haired ponytailed girl took the badge and checked it, then nodded. "Claire Redfield. I came here to find my brother Chris. He hasn't contacted me in a long time. And she's a companion I met on the road, Ciri."
Once they confirmed it had been a misunderstanding, the white-haired woman smiled slightly. "Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. Just call me Ciri."
After briefly discussing the situation, because their motorcycle had been damaged, the two of them got into Leon's car and headed for Raccoon City.
Ciri, the child of destiny from the witcher world, was still struggling somewhere inexplicable today.
...
The autumn air was crisp, and the sun shone brightly.
Corion Manor in the Duchy of Toussaint once again welcomed a beautiful morning.
The manor's butler, Alfie, Mr. Alfred Futi, sealed the envelope he had written to his cousin Barnabas-Basil Foulty, then pushed open the room door to supervise the maids' cleaning work.
Wearing sunglasses and a butler's uniform, the thirty-five-year-old Alfie was at the stage where his working ability was at its strongest. His abundant stamina and accumulated experience had reached a wonderful balance, and his master's trust gave him plenty of room to display his skills.
The newly hired housekeepers all had decent work attitudes, and the requirements for the outer areas were not that strict. So he pushed open the door and entered the study, supervising the most important trainee, Sasha.
With brown hair and emerald-green eyes, Sasha, once her face was washed clean, had a slender figure and a flower-like beauty.
Through questioning that day, Alfie had learned that she had once been the maid of a noble young lady from the province of Nazair. He had therefore felt she was highly suitable to serve as Victor's personal maid, because that position involved many tasks. It required literacy, diligence, youth, beauty, and preferably the ability to ease the master's stress.
So after Miss Angoulême personally experienced Sasha's specialty, "massage," and gave it high praise, she became the key target of the butler's strict training.
In the blink of an eye, Mr. Victor had already been away for more than twenty days. Although he was a powerful witcher, he was still acting alone. If not for new information always arriving, one truly would worry that some accident had happened to him outside.
On another front, Miss Angoulême's guard training had also progressed to its third phase. The manor's armed force now numbered roughly fifty people, reaching an acceptable standard of security.
Speaking of Corion Manor, everything was moving in a good direction. The only problem that troubled Alfie was the endless stream of visitors as the Wine Festival drew closer.
Most of them had come for the new red wine. There were pure wine lovers, competitors probing for information, curious onlookers, and sincere friends who cared.
While Mr. Corion was absent, all these visits had to be handled by Angoulême and the butler. But apart from Victor himself, no one knew what the true form of the new red wine would be. They only knew that its name had been confirmed as "Lafite."
Count Crespi's continued promotional push brought more and more people who had heard the news to come in admiration, and those increasing numbers of people who came in admiration attracted still more people who wanted to join the excitement.
The current situation had, by accident, matched a certain marketing strategy. As a result, Corion Manor's "Lafite" red wine exploded in fame and became a sensation before it had even gone on sale.
Through the window, Alfie saw that more visitors had dismounted at the front gate. As the butler of Corion Manor, Alfie was deeply troubled. And at this very moment, where exactly was Mr. Victor?
...
He was in Coronata Vineyard, surrounded by the remains of five plants burned away by Igni, along with two gorgeously dressed nobles.
"The reward agreed upon beforehand," Liam de Coronata, who wore a tight silk jacket, assured Victor, "will definitely be transferred into your account by the day after tomorrow at the latest. Thank you very much, Master witcher. If not for your help, these plots would all be abandoned next year!
"Are these monsters called archespores? Truly terrifying. They appear every so often, and who knows where they spring out from... I even suspect whether it might be those people across the river..." At this point, he spat on the ground.
"In principle, archespores are a type of cursed creature, usually born on land where blood has flowed. But the possibility of artificial cultivation cannot be ruled out either," Victor said in a淡淡 tone, giving the client a hint while already harboring a suspect in his heart. "However, as far as I know, this kind of monster first appeared in Belgaard Vineyard in the south, and after Count Crespi resolved it, they began appearing year after year in other places.
"Coincidentally, Matilda Vermentino across the river previously commissioned me for similar work as well. And I guarantee from my experience as a witcher that the varieties of monsters on both sides are extremely similar, almost without difference."
"Perhaps it has something to do with the underground caverns," the young Liam narrowed his eyes in thought. "I once heard my grandfather say that the cellar is connected to the underground caverns leading toward the center of the duchy. There are many similar caverns in the duchy..."
"That is indeed the case," said Jean-Christophe de Bourbeau, owner of Tufo Vineyard, who stood nearby with a handlebar mustache and a hat decorated with kingfisher feathers. "Master, in fact, beneath my own cellar there are tunnels stretching for several miles, and recently there have often been tremors of unknown origin! No one knows where they lead. Everyone who went to explore them never returned. It is rare to meet you here, so I would like to request..."
"I can guess what you want to request," the witcher said. "I accept. I can go inspect your cellar, but I must emphasize in advance:
"My fees are high... truly very high... I am a very expensive option."
Gazing at Victor's wild and magnificent heavy armor, the divine sword burning with flames on his back, and the domineering presence utterly incomparable to that of ordinary knights, Mr. Bourbeau with the handlebar mustache said, "Ah, Master, your expense is only natural. You are the best choice! Er, er... there is one more matter..."
"Go ahead. I'm listening."
"Forgive my bluntness, but regarding that... succubus that Her Enlightened Ladyship ordered you to kill, the one who appears at night and torments men... I do not believe there is any need to kill her. To be honest, she has never disturbed anyone... er, sometimes when we get drunk, we even go looking for her... to have a little fun with her..."
"But only adults," the young Liam quickly added.
"Ah! That was exactly what I wanted to say, good neighbor. As I said, that succubus has not harmed anyone. Recently, she seems to have been frightened by you, Master witcher, so she has rarely appeared. What I mean is... why hunt her down? In the end, you do not need that bounty either. But if you feel you have suffered a loss or been offended..."
Ever since leaving the laboratory more than ten days ago and choosing to wander about for experience, this was the third time Victor had heard similar arguments. That Lady Natanis truly had an extensive circle of friends, and the witcher also had a standard answer.
"You can provide some sponsorship to my account at Cianfanelli Bank," Victor said with a wooden face. "Perhaps it is a sign of aging, but I occasionally forget certain things, so I am preparing my retirement fund ahead of time."
Staring at that smooth, taut face, apart from its four blade scars, the young Liam quickly reacted. "No problem. I will add an extra supplement beyond the agreed reward."
"I would also be very happy to sponsor you, Master," Mr. Bourbeau followed after realizing.
Victor smiled and waved his hand. "Then let us leave it at that for now. Before the Wine Festival, I will find time to visit Tufo. But remember, making me lose my memory is not easy."
"You will be satisfied, Master." The two vineyard managers bowed and took their leave.
...
Riding his fine horse along the road, Victor galloped like the wind. At noon, he wanted to drink crayfish chowder at the Cockatrice Inn.
After Keira left, he had been doing witcher work everywhere during this period, tempering and integrating his skills through actual combat. Relying on his fierce martial strength, paired with the bonus from his flaming steel sword and magnificent armor, the arrogant witcher who demanded sky-high prices was not rejected. On the contrary, he became more and more popular.
This was human nature. When nobles could not tell who was the best, they picked the most expensive one, the one with the best appearance and the greatest prestige, then proactively publicized how worthwhile the money they had spent had been. As a result, Victor's reputation and prices shot upward for more than ten days straight.
The experiment for secondary mutation had been very successful. The enhancement effect of "magical sensitivity" was extremely significant. He dared say that the current power of his Signs surpassed that of every School of the Wolf witcher.
For example, in the vineyard just now, when fighting the archespores, monsters that had required Dancing Star to deal with outside Vizima back in the day could now be thoroughly ignited with an average of two to three sprays from his strengthened Igni Sign.
Open the ledger. A single Dancing Star was worth twenty crowns. The Igni Sign cost nothing. Did it still need to be said which method should be chosen to deal with monsters?
...
The clatter of hooves kicked up flying dust. The village ahead was D'Assinie's Windmill.
The origin of this village's name dated back to the court of Baroness Caroberta, grandmother of Anna Henrietta.
At that time, there was a noblewoman named D'Assinie, whose beauty could topple kingdoms. As long as she appeared, knights would duel to win her heart, while noblewomen would become so jealous that they nearly fainted.
But D'Assinie did not accept the pursuit of noblemen. Instead, she grew weary of the splendor of court life, accepted the proposal of a certain mill owner, left the court, and lived with him in the mill.
According to legend, she lived happily ever after from then on. As for this fairy-tale-like story, Victor's thought was that sure enough, it was a fairy tale.
However, seen from afar now, D'Assinie's Windmill did not look fairy-tale-like at all. Burning black smoke rose into the sky, and the villagers fleeing from the village could be vaguely seen.
He squeezed the horse's belly and accelerated. During the past period, the witcher had trained not only his combat techniques, but also his horsemanship. This was all for after the Wine Festival, when the knights' dance... correction, the knightly tourney would follow right after.
Victor charged into the village like wind, thunder, and lightning. The villagers had already fled without a trace. With one glance, Victor happened to see a heavily armored knight charging on horseback toward a giant.
The emblem on his shield, a cross and a golden lily on a blue field, belonged to the de Launfal family. Victor knew that Palmerin would never do something this stupid, so this person was definitely Guillaume.
With such a huge difference in size, the knight's heroic figure looked like Don Quixote charging at a windmill. Unsurprisingly, he was sent flying by a single swing of the giant's club, while his warhorse was also grabbed and torn in half.
After parting in Skellige, seeing again that body as tall as a city gate, that sixteen-foot height, and thinking of the "despair" and "resolve" from back then, a subtle nostalgia welled up in his heart.
Looking at the flesh-colored skin of the giant before him, he knew it was only an ordinary giant. Although its height was about the same, compared with a monster like the ice giant that came with built-in frost armor, the difficulty of dealing with it was worlds apart.
He jumped down from the horse and let it run off. Victor took a crossbow from his herbal satchel. He remembered that in the game's setting, as long as this giant was shot in the eye with a crossbow bolt, it would cause an instant-death effect. It counted as a tribute to the Cyclops myth.
The witcher did not think hitting it would instantly kill it. However, his enhanced sight could see through the eye hole of its helmet that it was indeed blind in one eye. In other words, if he could shoot its other eye, finishing off the blinded monster would basically pose no difficulty.
The crossbow bolt shot out and smoothly missed. Sure enough, without practice, one simply had not practiced. Fantasizing about landing a bull's-eye in a single shot was clearly the kind of thing best left for dreams.
However, the pain of being shot in the arm still attracted the giant's attention and successfully enraged it. The monster let out an earth-shaking roar, grabbed the blade of the toppled windmill, and hurled it forcefully toward Victor.
Easily dodging the projectile, the witcher drew Blazing Strike and took out tube after tube of potion, drinking them down. Although using bombs would let him deal with it more easily, Victor wanted the giant's body. It might have good Void traits, so he needed to preserve it as intact as possible.
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