Chapter 40: Episode 38

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You can read up to 10 Episodes in advanced plus my other fic: Ars Goetia– Antichrist here.

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We followed Gretka, entering a trail with visible animalistic footprints engraved on the dirt. They were nearly four, five times bigger than mine, which was weird because Leonis wasn't a small kid. In fact, his European descent had ensured he was always bigger than Japanese kids his age, coupled with my healthy diet and the fuck ton of exercise I did daily, I already stood at Ciri's shoulders in height and my feet, while not brutish, were certainly big.

I was positively a giant for an eight, almost nine years old. Yet these footprints, or were they paw-prints(?), completely dwarfed mine in term of size. Were the fucking werewolves buffed in this rendition? Or was this particular one simply abnormal compared to its brethren? Maybe some Sorcerers somewhere suddenly decided it would be a good idea to make a magical steroid for werewolves and Wild Hunt did not show it?

Hopefully, that wasn't the case, steroid-ridden werewolves wasn't something this World, nor I needed or wanted to deal with…

Gretka acclaimed, jumping with excitement. I had learnt not to bother with the girl's weirdness, having gotten used to it in this trip, though the fact that she didn't seem at all bothered by the claw-marks as long as she was tall genuinely made me want to question her sanity. What the Hell did those peasants feed this girl for her to be this oblivious? "Leo, Leo, look! Those are some huge claw-marks! It's the Wolves King, I bet!"

'Again, very obtuse observation, Gretka. You truly are the Sherlock Holmes of your time.' I said sarcastically to myself. Gods, did I hate children. They were too loud, too energetic for me to handle. Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of Evil Entity possessed me to go into Social Work a lifetime ago, especially when half of their cases often directly involved dealing with children. "Yes, Gretka. I do see the huge claw-marks–"

I met gazes with Ciri, who seemed to tell me with her eyes that my sarcasm was not appreciated. "Hard not to when it's the most striking feature of this lovely cave entrance in the middle of nowhere…"

"You are such an insufferable arse, Leonis." Ciri harrumphed, before ordering Gretka to find somewhere safe to hide. Once we had made certain the girl wouldn't be discovered too easily, we both returned to the cave entrance with weapons drawn. Invictus shone bright in my hands, glimmering as though excited to taste the flesh of an actual werewolf. Not that I could blame her, seeing as I too was quite thrilled as well. This was a real werewolf we were talking about.

Its blood and organs would be invaluable to any Magus looking into the biology of the creature. If I could harvest its mutagens, the same ones employed by Witchers to further mutate and enhance themselves, I might be able to figure out how to graft them into my body, yet still keep my overall appearance and humanity, and that's not a chance I was willing to let slip, ever. Definitely not when it had been practically delivered to me on a silver platter. "It's done, all we have to do is enter now…"

Ciri mumbled, sending me a confident smirk. "You haven't said anything for a while… Nervous, Sir Leonis?

"Course not, oh-great Warrior Princess. If anything, I've never been as thrilled to face such worthy foe." I replied condescendingly, making exaggerated gestures, a cheeky grin tugging on the corners of my lips as I took off in a burst of speed and petals. "Try to keep up, Princess! Else there won't be a werewolf left for you to fight by the time you get there!"

In moments, we had reached the depth of the cave. What I had initially assumed was caused by the shifting of the cave surface, turned out to be the growls and grunts of the very werewolf we were looking for. He was gnawing on the corpse of a poor bastard when Ciri and I found him. The sounds of bones being crushed and crunched inside his frankly gigantic maw, dripping of fresh blood, plus the earie shine of his eyes made for quite the haunting sight.

Unfortunately for him, I had had this same dance with another, more terrifying foe. To me, the werewolf was a wild beast at best, while Regul Black had been a complete and utter psychopath, one who had given up his humanity for longevity and power, one who performed inhumane experiments on the deceased, leaving naught but trails of mutilated bodies and mutated, multi-eyed monsters in his path.

Compared to that crazy-fucker, this werewolf was nothing. Although, I'd admit, seeing a real-life werewolf for the first time was a novelty, it was a shame the feeling was lost the seconds it opened its mouth to let out a threatening growl. I wouldn't dare bore you with the full description, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone said the werewolf had been using garbage as its go-to brand of toothpaste, and rinsing its mouth with liquid shits for years.

I pinched my nose, hastily backing away so the foul scent wouldn't stick to my outfit.

"Christ. Brush your fucking teeth, dude!" I barely finished my complaint, before getting kicked lightly in the shin by Ciri. "Can you not? I'd rather you not piss him off any more than he already is!"

"Please, today is the full-moon." I crossed my arms, glancing at the beast that was approaching us on all-fours. "If folklores and storytellers are to be trusted, then it should be entirely consumed by bestial rage and animalistic instincts. There's no reasoning with it, and I sincerely doubt it's currently intelligent enough to understand–!"

The werewolf leaped on me.

Ciri blinked to avoid its attack.

Meanwhile, I simply stood rooted in my spot, spun and sent it crashing several feet away with a kick.

The werewolf yelped and whined like the pathetic animal it was.

Ciri's eyes widened like saucers as she watched me manhandle the beast as though it was a disobedient child. "How'd you do that?"

I was fairly certain she meant for that to be a rhetorical question, but I decided to humor her anyway. "Push-ups, legs-up and plenty of juices." I spoke with a smirk, smugness oozing from my voice as I made a reference only I could understand. After a moment of contemplation, I added. "Maybe a healthy pinch of [Reinforcement] Magecraft as well…"

"Magic can do that?" Ciri muttered, disbelief painting her expression as she stared at the werewolf, who was struggling to crawl to its feet. Half its face, having withstood the full might of my kick, was gone. Its lower-jaw had exploded upon impact, leaving its tongue hanging limply, slobbering down its mouth. Even a majority of its razor-sharp upper-teeth had been shattered. Those that remained were but dull, jagged and chipped fangs.

Some of which seemed to have been embedded into its soft palate.

The werewolf howled in pain, its gaze murderous as it set sight on me, ignoring the Witcheress with blade drawn. "YoU… I KiLL!"

It grunted. Perhaps the pain had been enough to snap it out of its former moon-induced rage. Yet all that did was give way to murderous intent.

Maybe to it, I had made things personal?

Leaping up again, this time the werewolf weaponized its massive claws instead, seeing as it no longer had useable fangs.

I narrowly avoided the clumsy claw-swipe, punching it square on its snout, sending it tumbling back to the ground pitifully. I pinched my chin, staring silently at the whimpering werewolf, head swimming in thoughts and a slight sense of guilt. 'Can this be considered animal abuse? In fact, does the laws even factor in and apply to were-creatures?' Damn, my love for cute animals was really getting in the way here…

The werewolf's eyes might be a horrible, horrible thing under the curtain of darkness. But, listening to its incessant whimpering, I was actually feeling pretty bad for abusing the poor creature. That was until I caught the mangled corpse nearby with what used to be his face all chewed up and coated in slimy saliva. His unblinking, lifeless eye bore into me vengefully, as if asking me to avenge his death. Instantly, my pity and guilt dissipated as I pointed my middle and index fingers at the werewolf.

[Finn Cannon] swirling to life, I blew the werewolf's right leg off as it tried to limp to the corpse on its front and remaining hind leg. 'Right, dangerous magically cursed creature that wouldn't have hesitated to rip out my throat if given the opportunity, got it.'

The creature tore pieces of flesh under my curious gaze, literally shoving them into its pulsing throat, and seconds later, its wounds all began to heal. Bones and fangs were regrown; flesh and skin were mended, seemingly being stitched and pulled together by an invisible force. It was genuinely fascinating to see true regeneration in the work. Were werewolves' regenerative ability always this powerful?

Or was it the moon? Probably the latter, I decided.

I had fought an Apostle before, but Apostles did not regenerate, their physical vessels erased their injuries by reversing time, which wasn't something I was capable of replicating, not without severely damaging my psyche or body at least. "How peculiar… The Lycanthropy Curse seems to be digesting the devoured flesh, turning it into pure Mana to heal its host? No, no–" I approached the werewolf, caressing its severed leg even as it snarled at me wrathfully.

I leaned back, avoiding another clumsy, snail-paced claw-swipe from the creature. "It's attempting to return its host to their prime, there also appears to be moon-tainted coursing through its veins… The Curse was bound to the moon, perhaps?"

Rituals weren't exactly a huge thing in the Moonlit World anymore, not since around two to three centuries ago, when the weakening of the World's Will started to accelerate with the beginning of the industrial age. Naturally, this also jumpstarted the decline of Astrology, once a prominent subject incomparably useful for Ritualistic Spells, its value and position in the Association began to experience a sharp drop. Even Houses that had built their foundation on the subject started to reject it outright.

I had no idea what the Animusphere did to retain Astrology's position as one of the major Department, but the price they paid could not have been little.

Why was I mentioning this? Well, because the Lycanthropy Curse– This Lycanthropy Curse was deeply rooted in Astrology. Its creator had bound the Wolf Spirits to the first of those afflicted by the Curse, then tied the Original Spell to the Moon itself, a Celestial Body often made to represent Demonic Forces and Black Magic, which twisted its nature into something far, far more sinister. A Curse that could be inherited and passed from parents to child, and sometimes transmitted like a virus through bites.

This was just my theory, but the initial Spell likely had roots in Druidism. Spirit Animals and all that...

I was about to inspect the werewolf further when all of a sudden, my projected Black Key was thrust deep in its neck. The werewolf yelped, clawing at Ciri and I as we both jumped back. I frowned, turning towards the ashen-haired Witcheress with an annoyed glare on my face. "Hey! What gives? I need it alive to study the Curse!"

"It was about to fully regrow all of its injuries, Sir Scholarly! I had to at least try and put it down!" My head snapped over to the werewolf, whose wounds had completely healed. The only evidences of our battle, short as it was, were the scarred tissues marring its furry form. It roared, clutching its bleeding throat. Seemed like the cursed oil had functioned as intended, given the werewolf's jerky motions as if it was going into shock.

It positioned its maw up, howling loudly as its muscles grew almost twice in size out of a blue, its previous furious golden eyes changed into burning reddish white. Finally done with its transformation, the werewolf snarled at us, teeth having tripled in size. "Oh? Is this the result of extreme rage and the full Moon? Interesting… If I could just–"

"Leonis, you can study it later, when it's dead! Now, focus!" Ciri shouted as she got into stance. I couldn't really blame her, the werewolf did look every bit as intimidating as you would imagine with its new bulging muscles. Whereas before, it was two heads taller than Ciri, it now appeared to have grown another head and a half in height. It lurched forwards, maw widening as it released an ear-splitting, booming howl and… Disappeared?!

No, no… It had merely turned invisible. I could hear it still; smell its disgusting, musty scent and feel its presence stalking towards us. It was almost funny, the werewolf was an apex predator in this area, it should be well aware that sight was only a fraction of the senses. Not to mention, I could practically see the malevolent Lycanthropy Curse wafting from it in waves. There was no possible timeline where it would successfully ambush me.

Unless, I was both blind and deaf. I smirked as it showed itself behind my back, claws already raised to take a swipe at me. "BEHIND YOU, LEONIS!"

Ciri screamed on the side, voice worried and frantic as she blinked near the werewolf, blades swinging in an attempt to block the claw-swipe aimed at my head. And block it, she did. But, not without consequences as the sword was painfully wrenched from her hands. I pushed the injured Witcheress out of the way, fists landing square on the werewolf's snout and jaws.

Unfortunately, whichever sort of rage-induced enhancement it had just experienced seemed to have increased its durability immensely. Punches that should have put it on sketcher now barely bruised it. The werewolf stumbled back, head shaking as though trying to get rid of the dizziness my punches caused to it, but appeared otherwise completely fine. It snorted, snarling and looking at me challengingly, as if to ask 'Is that it?'.

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Real shame for it I still had a handful of cards to use. One of which was the fact I hadn't even used the full extent of my strength just yet. Thus, I punched it again, this time with everything I had and it was quickly thrown off its feet. It tried to regain its balance, only to fail as I, for a lack of a better term, whaled on it once more, kicking and punching until its face was left a bloody pulp. Then, once I had made sure it was immobilized, I turned to Ciri.

"You alright, Princess?" The young woman hissed as she reached for her blade, brows knitting into a tight frown. "Just a bit scratched up. Although I'd appreciate it if you'd stop calling me that, else I might just smack you over the head, Leonis–"

Ciri joked, rubbing her gloved hands as she approached, and with a swing of the Black Key I had projected for her use, she swiftly severed the werewolf's head cleanly. The creature let out one last mournful wail as its life flickered and sputtered into non-existent. It slumped down, blood gushing and spurting from its neck to create a small pool beneath its corpse. "There, now you can safely study it. You're welcome, Sir Scholarly."

It was dead. Gone.

Yet, somehow, the Curse stuck.

It was still drawing the Ambient Mana even after the soul of its host had departed.

"Interesting…" If I could modify the Curse, I could– A feminine cough pulled me back from my daydreaming. I looked up, seeing Ciri raise an eyebrow at what I was doing. To be fair, I could understand why she felt the need, since before I even realized it, I was digging my hands through the werewolf's innards to better feel for the Curse. Although, in my defense, it was hard to contain myself when such a fascinating subject had made itself available.

"Sorry, werewolves have been presumably extinct for centuries in my World. I'm sure you can understand the excitement finding a long lost species may cause."

"I'm sure it must have been quite the experience–" The Witcheress winced at the sight of my bloody hands as she gestured to the entrance. "Now, can we go? Gretka's waiting for us, and there are wolves in the forest still, I don't want her alone any longer than strictly necessary."

I sent her a thumb-up, which she responded with a confused tilt of her head. Right, I forgot, medieval time with their own terms and body languages, plus gestures. "Sure, just let me get this–" I quickly removed the werewolf's heart.

"There we go… The heart is always the most magically powerful and important organ." I clarified, trotting towards the mangled corpse to get a piece of rags and store the organ. Once done, I patted to get the blood somewhat off my hands as I addressed the disgusted Witcheress. "Now, any idea where we are headed?"

"Gretka said the sun warmed her back this morning, so we must go East. I'll look for her, you keep doing… Whatever it is you're doing, I'll return soon." I waved her off as I tied a knot around the heart and went back to the corpse. "Sure, be careful while you're out there. I'll harvest the rest of its organs in the meantime."

I kicked its head over to Ciri. "You should probably keep that close, could get a few coins for it later, and if not, it might deter the wolves from approaching." She didn't seem too happy with that, but took the head anyway as she left to search for our loveable peasant girl. With a motion of my hand, a razor-sharp scalpel took shape in my palm. I rolled up my sleeves, aimed the blade at the deceased werewolf and began to dig in. "Alright, show papa your secrets…"

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

Cirilla Of Cintra– The Lady of Space and Time was confused. No, she was beyond confused. Then again, anyone would be in her position. She had woken up in a dirty, wet swampy forest. Now, that had been familiar. After all, sad as she was to admit, thanks to her powers, she had found herself thrown in that same circumstance on at least a dozen occasions already. Still, something was different this time. Very different, in fact.

For once, she had had the air knocked out of her lungs the second she landed on the planet that was her Homeworld as a boy, perhaps two to three years younger than herself, slammed into her. Now that, that was certainly new. By the time she woke up, he was gone and she was left leaning against an old, rotten tree trunk with droplets of rain splattering painfully on her face. All she could hear at that time, beside the rumblings of thunder and her own stomach in hunger were sounds of fighting.

And so, with her limbs aching like crazy, Ciri trod towards the source of the noises, only to find said boy beating the living poos out a pack of wolves. That was even newer.

Never had she seen such a young teenager slaughtering ferocious predators with naught but his fists and feet, and with so little effort as well. The way in which he danced amongst their ranks, black hair fluttering with each movement and motion, limbs crashing into the beasts were reminiscent of the many art pieces Ciri had seen throughout her life, albeit extremely dark and bloody ones. She was totally entranced, captivated by that dance.

Like a moth to a flame, she had gone near enough for him to pick up her presence somehow. When he called out to her, she had expected a fight, her metaphysical muscles to flee at a moment's notice as the powers that had accompanied Ciri her entire life flexed, preparing to transport her somewhere else, somewhere safe; somewhere far, far away from the monster who masqueraded in a teenager's skin.

Thankfully, things never did come to that. The teenager had cried out to her, but he wasn't here for her, or so he said. And thus far, he had not done anything to prove the contrary to his words. Leonis Magnum was his name, not one Ciri was particularly familiar with, didn't sound like any Nilfgaardian, nor Temerian and Skelligan name she had ever heard, though it was vaguely of nobility, because only nobles could ever think of a name like Magnum.

Nobles or Elves, and he didn't look Elven. His facial features could be, but his ears were nowhere sharp enough to justify recent Elven ancestry.

His heritage aside, Ciri had found herself liking the teenager. He was rough, sarcastic at the worst possible moments, and she could practically sense the uneasiness radiating off him. She couldn't blame him, she was much the same the first time she jumped Worlds. He was scared, despite his best effort to appear otherwise, and that's why she tolerated his sarcasm, because sometimes what someone needed wasn't reassurance nor comfort, but an unhealthy dose of humor and sarcasm to bury their fears under.

She could hardly condemn him for that… Not when she too hid hers under a mask of fearlessness, courage and tomboyism. Not that many people knew besides her father and close friends. They all believed her to be this 'bigger-than-life' heroine, unafraid of anything and everything, but Ciri knew the truth, and the truth was: She was afraid of the prophecy involving her and the White Frost, she was even more afraid of having to live on as a breeding tool for the Eredin.

Deprived of her rights to live, truly live and existing only to serve the baser instincts of the Elves.

It was a fate she wouldn't wish on her worst enemies.

A fate the Elves seemed determined to make her suffer.

Ciri shuddered, whether from the cold weather, or merely the thoughts that once upon a time she had resigned herself to that fate, she didn't know and frankly, she didn't want to. Still, in spite of their less than ideal first meeting, Ciri agreed to have the teenage boy follow her. For they were kindred souls, lost and having get a grip on the cards life had dealt them. Then, she realized there was more to that young face, more than she bargained for when he dismantled the werewolf, both literally and figuratively.

And suddenly, she wasn't sure anymore. Was it the right decision to allow him to accompany her on her journey? What if one morning, he woke up and decided he wanted to split her open and see how she ticked? To understand how her powers– The Elder Blood operated? Could she even fight him off? She doubted it, not after everything Leonis had demonstrated. He was too strong, too fast for her to react to and clearly, he still had several cards hidden under his sleeves.

Although the simple fact that he had the ability to utterly destroy her in combat, yet hadn't, did make Ciri somewhat more assure in his intentions. It didn't mean he couldn't have a change of mind, especially with the almost disturbing curiosity towards magic he had displayed… 'I'll just have to deal with it later on.' Ciri told herself as she shook the troubling thoughts away. There were better things she could, should focus on at the moment. Like the small girl they were escorting home.

"Gretka, are you there?!" Ciri shouted. Her ears perking up to listen for any abnormal sounds when she heard the barking wolves. She quickly rushed towards the sounds to find Gretka, the peasant girl had chosen to hide above the trees like before and beneath her were dozens of wolves, all of whom were snarling and growling hungrily from below. Ciri swiftly took out the werewolf's head, raising it high so the wolves could all see.

As if sensing the existence of another, higher lifeform, the wolves collectively turned to her, baring their teeth. But, as Leonis had predicted, none dared approach. Every single one of them cautiously backed away as they took in the sight of the severed werewolf's head. "Gretka? Come down, I'll protect you." Ciri urged. "Quickly."

The girl slid down from the tree, running to Ciri as the wolves growled at her. "Ciri! You're safe!" Their howls grew louder and more aggressive as they heard the girl's high-pitched voice, something which seemed to scare the girl immensely, forcing her to duck behind the Witcheress fearfully. Ciri, on the other hand, looked every bit as calm as she felt. She had dealt with wild predators before, and if there's anything she had learnt in those encounters, then it's that it was never a good thing to show fear in front of them.

Fear was weakness.

Weakness made you prey.

And Cirilla might be many things:

Child of The Elder Blood.

The ashen-haired Witcheress.

Princess of Cintra and Nilfgaard.

But a prey she was not.

So she stood protectively in front of the girl, one hand armed with a blade– Black Key as Leonis had named it, the other raised high with a werewolf's head tucked inside while they slowly retreated to the cave entrance. Everything was going so, so well until a roar echoed through the forest. A roar that was most definitely not human, nor werewolf. A roar that harbored and promised naught but pain and suffering.

Her head snapped towards the source of the noise as the rows of crows cawed above them, and the wolves began fleeing, scattering in all directions. "Something's approaching…" She stared at trees being toppled. "Something big. Gretka, hide!"

Then out it came. It was a walking mountain of pale muscles, capped with a teeth-filled head adorned in a crown of long elk-like horns. As if it wasn't already ugly enough, right between the ridge of its face was a third eye that seemed to roll in its skull. It was a horrendously ugly creature, smelled the part too, Ciri idly noted. She had immediately realized what it was the second she set sight on it, a fiend. Creature of untold destruction

Entirely capable of tearing apart squadrons with the same ease an adult would have taking a treat from a child. Weird part was, these creatures usually avoided humans altogether, preferring solitude unless provoked or forced to fight, yet this one had come to this exact location, as though it was seeking her, and her specifically. Suddenly, there were distinct sounds of cackle, like the horrible laughter of hags in the olden tales, sending the creature in a murderous rage.

The monstrous beast made to charge at her, and Ciri quickly blinked away to dodge the attack. The fiend slid on the ground to arrest its momentum, turning back midway to take a swipe at her, but Ciri was quicker. She raised her blades, blocking the strike and the blades dug into the fiend's palm, causing it to roar in pain as the wound hissed and sizzled. Her eyes moved towards the Black Key, its tang still sizzling as blood on it was seemingly evaporated.

Weird, it didn't have this big of a reaction when she killed the werewolf…

Unfortunately, thanks to the previous injuries she sustained while battling the werewolf and the Wild Hunt prior to that, the fiend's attack was especially effective. Ciri could practically feel her wrists strain to hold up with the pressure as she grimaced, clenching her teeth.

She blinked once more, this time behind the beast as she stabbed both blades into its stomach, wrenching them out as they neared and touched the fiend's spine. She would have severed it, if not for the fact her hands ached like never before and the fiend's spine was unsurprisingly tougher than the werewolf's. Ciri tried to get to her feet, too exhausted to blink again.

Another problem with the Elder Blood. Maybe it was just her lack of experience in using the powers, but Ciri had found every time she blinked, it would leave her slightly winded and out of breath, a period of time in which she could no longer blink again, or she feared she would be knocked unconscious. This effect was even more pronounced when she used it to travel between Worlds, leaving her for days, if not weeks incapable of the same feat.

The fiend, taking advantage of her temporary weakness, slapped her across the face, throwing her face first against a tree which Gretka had taken to hide behind. "R- Run…" Ciri mumbled, gritting her teeth as she gazed at the Black Key laid strewn on the ground, several feet away, having been knocked out of her hands when the fiend hit her. Gretka, the peasant girl hiccupped, then ran, using the bushes as her covers.

It would have meant nothing if the fiend was interested in her, not with its enhanced eyesight. Luckily, it seemed the beast's target was Ciri and Ciri alone. It leaned over her, sniffing her with its mouth wide-open, dripping of saliva. Ciri took up her old trusty sword, jamming it in the fiend's face, then pulled it out and did the same to its neck. The wounds didn't appear to have hurt it too much, but did deter the beast from coming closer as it stumbled back.

This, in turn, gave the Witcheress time to gather her breath and stand back up again. "C'mon, you piece of filth…"

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