Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel? Chapter 42

The explosion was a warning.

Geralt thought so, but he didn't know who he was warning. Perhaps it is to warn the undead here, those undead who still have their own consciousness, such as that woman. She just wanted to remind herself of something, but was blown to pieces by 'He'.

This thing started to get weirder and weirder. Geralt had to admit that he was starting to regret it. He just wanted to take on a normal job, but this place was as evil as a water ghost playing the accordion. The witcher glanced back, and there was still a wall behind him, and he had no choice but to move on.

Going around the chandelier, the witcher moved on. He doesn't know how long he has been in here, and time seems to have lost its meaning here. The scenery on both sides remained unchanged, the wallpaper was always crimson, a picture frame was hung there every few meters, and the chandeliers on the ceiling were also hung intact. Geralt looked back, and the broken lamp looked as small as a sparrow now.

As he walked, the sound of the banquet became clearer and clearer, reaching his ears, and he could even hear the voices of people talking to each other and a cheerful song. Only this time, it was no longer from downstairs, but from the front.

He also reached the end of this never-ending corridor, and what appeared in front of Geralt was a dark red wooden door, without carvings, very ordinary. It's so ordinary that it shouldn't even appear in such a manor.

Geralt didn't hesitate, he pushed open the door and walked in.

What came into view was an empty banquet hall with no one in it. But the food on the table was still steaming, and each glass was full, in which the crimson wine swayed by itself. The heavy footsteps of the witcher echoed in the empty banquet hall, and he didn't hear any sound after he pushed the door open.

"Welcome! Welcome!" A man's voice sounded out of thin air, and he appeared on the high stage of the banquet hall, wearing an elegant dark blue robe, although he could no longer cover his stomach. The man smiled warmly and said, "Please welcome our guests!"

His voice fell, and the originally empty banquet hall was full of guests. They sat beside the table. They could not tell whether they were male or female. They were all wearing black robes and half-covered masks on their faces, only revealing those eyes.

Greed and malice were undisguised, and they began to applaud, monotonous and repetitive, annoying. The man closest to him stood up and handed him a glass of red wine, his lips under the mask twitched into a smile, revealing his yellow crooked teeth, in which the bright red tongue twisted and made a malicious sound: "Drink it... Join us!"

The witcher looked at him like an idiot. He was covered in blood, all traces of the previous woman's explosion. But without covering the red light that flickered on and off from the leather armor, Geralt slapped the red wine on the ground with a slap. I wonder if it was the scarlet liquid of the wine that dyed the black carpet red.

The smile on the man's face froze, and it stayed there forever. Geralt inserted the silver sword into his throat, twisted fiercely, and splashed black blood on the table of guests behind the man. Face. The witcher took a deep breath, a cruel smile on his face: "You should have killed me in the first place."

I don't know who let out a roar, and the men and women in black all rushed towards him. Thanks to the mutation, Geralt's excellent dynamic vision allowed him to see every detail of their faces. They are all different, but all equally ugly. Geralt drew his blade, and a force surged into his heart with his movements, turning into the purest desire to use violence - he swung the sword horizontally, and the exaggerated force made the silver sword sever in an instant. The five closest to him had their bodies cut off in the air.

Black blood splattered all over the witcher. He was surprised to feel that his fatigue had completely disappeared, and he even felt better than ever before. He lowered his head and glanced at the leather armor. The patterns were no longer flickering, and the blazing red light illuminated His face, the witcher smiled and shook his head, whispering in their roar: "You really gave me a treasure."

The killing begins.

Unlike what they imagined, it was a split, but a one-sided slaughter. The once invincible psychic attacks were of no use to the witcher, and the odd leather armor on his body blocked all influence. Like a thick wall blocking all the hands they were trying to reach into the witcher's head.

He whispered in the dark: "No, it shouldn't be like this..."

But that's how it happened.

Geralt wielded his blade and created death, and it would not be difficult for him to send these things that might have died once before to die again. The increase brought by the leather armor is unimaginable. After drenching the black blood of those people, it seems to come alive. The witcher can even hear a dragon in a trance as he swings his sword. roar.

With a smile on his face that he didn't realize, he chopped off the head of the woman closest to him with a sword. When her head was still flying freely in the air, Geralt arrived with unimaginable agility. On the other side, like a hurricane, it swept the entire banquet hall. There was only blood and death wherever he went, and no one could stop one of his swipes.

Their special abilities are useless to this witcher, and their flesh is too fragile to withstand the attack of the silver sword. Neither side realized that from the moment Geralt entered the banquet hall, the end was doomed.

The witcher drew out the blade, and the silver sword was covered with black blood. The man fell to the ground softly, like a puddle of boneless mud, Geralt didn't even look at him, smashed his head with one foot, and walked straight to the man in blue on the high platform - he doesn't care now. The truth of the matter, he just killed a cool guy and now he just wants to do it again.

The man in blue didn't mean to run, he just stood there, watching his companions die and wounded, the warm smile on his face never changed.

Geralt stepped forward, he was about to slash the silver sword to kill this guy, but saw his eyes.

The man in blue was smiling, but his eyes were crying. This contradictory scene made the witcher stop for a while, and he kicked the man in blue to the ground. Geralt thought this would make him stop smiling, but he didn't expect that after he fell to the ground, he still had that kind smile on his face, kind, warm, and motionless.

Just ignore the tears in his eyes.

The witcher sighed, and the killing desire in his heart gradually subsided.

Chapter end