Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel? Chapter 45

A farmer was shocked to see the collapse of the dilapidated but still imposing manor. He leaned on his **** with a sluggish expression: "Gods are above! This... What's going on?"

His companion also looked at the scene that could be called the shaking of the earth, but he was not as shocked as he was, and just said indifferently, "What's our business? Let's plant your land."

After speaking, he waved his **** to continue the hard work. Behind them, a strong man with flaxen hair saw this scene, let out a desperate scream, and ran towards the manor. The first farmer looked at his back and became even more puzzled: "Where is the weirdo? Isn't Bordeaux only one daughter left..."

His companion nudged him impatiently: "Why do you care so much about this? Can you feed your kids tonight? If you keep watching, tonight your wife should make you go to the barn. Go to sleep!"

When he mentioned his wife, he immediately lowered his head and started to work, but the corner of his eyes was still staring at the collapsed manor.

"Ahem..." Geralt woke up coughing, his body that was already sore is now even more miserable. He clearly felt the blood on his face. Fortunately, his ribs were not injured, and there should be no major problems with the internal organs. The witcher's night vision ability allows him to see in the dark. Quietly in the collapsed ruins, he turned his neck with difficulty, and found that there were just two wooden boards above his head forming an angle, allowing him to survive. .

But what about that girl?

Geralt coughed again, his hoarse voice resounding in the ruins: "Is there anyone?!"

No one answered.

Geralt licked his dry lips, and with his little physical strength, he gave himself Quinn, who was too weak to be weak, and then began to crawl forward with dark vision. The sword was gone, and the hand crossbow didn't know where it was thrown. Fortunately, this dragon leather armor was not lost, although it was no longer glowing with a flickering red light. He crawled through the ruins with difficulty, and after dozens of meters, a small breach appeared in front of him, and a beam of light shot down through the breach.

With his ungloved right hand, he squeezed Alder, and his telekinetic power instantly blew away the ruins at the entrance of the hole. Fragments flew with sawdust, and a beam of sunlight shone on the witcher's face, causing him to squint involuntarily.

Geralt slowly climbed out, he stood up with difficulty, and glanced around in the face of the sun. This once grand manor is now only a ruin, with broken wood and rubble, and those crows have disappeared. He limped and knelt down after walking two steps. He vomited a mouthful of dark black viscous blood, and it was filled with scalding heat, but it hissed and corroded the wood.

There was a double image in front of his eyes, and the witcher clearly remembered that he entered the manor at noon, and now it looks like it is early morning. Obviously, there was a big problem with his perception in the manor, and his perception of time became even more blurred. The witcher pressed against his chest, breathing hard like a broken bellows.

"Cough—" He coughed hard again, followed by a burst of retching, as if to spit out everything in his body. After this, he felt better. Geralt raised his head. He knew that the only thing that could save him now was the white honey on the radish saddlebag. After drinking this potion, he could clearly understand the effects of all the potions he drank before—including the toxicity.

But with such a big news of the collapse of the manor, the radish probably ran far away. Geralt lay down. He wanted to make himself comfortable for the last days of his life, at least without pain. The sun hit his face, and he closed his eyes, feeling a burst of peace.

Until a voice called him softly: "Sir...Mister...Wake up!"

He struggled to open his eyes, never feeling that this little action was so laborious. Geralt saw the dark-haired girl who had pushed open the door gently pushing his head, and the witcher said impatiently, "Let me be quiet for a while... okay? Please, just a moment. ..."

He closed his eyes again, as if he was about to die. But he heard some movement in the next second, he did not know where the strength came from, he pushed the girl away, and a wooden stick hit the place in front of her. The witcher looked up, and a man with flaxen hair was grinning and spit at him. It just hit him in the face, and the guy chuckled twice: "It's you... it's because of you!"

Geralt was sure that he had never seen this person, but his hatred was genuine, as if he wanted to slash a demon hunter into pieces and eat raw flesh. He swung the stick, and this time, the witcher had no strength to dodge any longer, and he could only endure the heavy blow.

The man is very strong, and the stick with great power was about to hit the witcher's head, but it didn't work as it should. A thin layer of yellow shield disappeared after the sound of breaking glass. The man was shattered by the too strong reaction force, and the wooden stick fell to the ground. A few drops of blood from his hands fell on the witcher's leather armor.

Seeing this scene, the man became even more furious. He grabbed the weak white-haired witcher and punched him in the nose. The blood of the two was mixed and flowed downstream. The man didn't stop, he kept punching the witcher in the face like a beast, one punch, two punches, three punches. Punch to punch, Geralt spat out a posterior molar, an ugly smile spread across his face.

"You... idiot."

The red light is prosperous.

On the witcher's leather armor, those exquisite patterns lit up again, and the side of his face was lit up in the blink of an eye. Geralt grinned, his weak body regaining strength. He shoved the man away, and the force made him fall to the ground. Geralt didn't hesitate, he pounced, the yellow cat's eyes were already stained with a bit of scarlet. The speed of the scarlet light of the leather armor is getting faster and faster, just like his heartbeat and bloodthirsty desire.

The witcher bit off the man's ear in one bite, and in the midst of his screams, he covered the man's face with both hands, and pressed his thumb down his eyes, pressing down hard.

He screamed, twisting wildly on the ground, waving his arms and kicking his thighs, trying to get the witcher to leave his body. But Geralt had almost lost his mind at this point, he just wanted more blood, anyone's.

"Blood-!"

The witcher roared the word, looking more monster than monster now. Before, the man had punched him a lot, and now, it was Geralt's turn. It's just that his fist is much heavier than a man's.

The first fist broke the man's mouth and knocked out several of his teeth. The second punch landed on the bridge of the nose, and between the surging blood, Geralt had a cruel smile on his face that he didn't realize, grabbing the man's chin with one hand and pressing his upper jaw with the other. The hands suddenly burst into force.

Lena Bordeaux, who covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming, could swear to the gods that this was the cruelest way to die she had ever seen. The man's jaw was ripped open by the witcher's brute force, his jaw was thrown aside like a piece of trash by Geralt, and his tongue was torn out.

When he finally lost his breath, the blood-covered witcher's face shone with flickering red light, and he turned his head and smiled at Lena Bordeaux. The blood interlaced with his white teeth in a horrific painting.

Chapter end