One by one, he gathered everyone in the ship and settled them comfortably under a group of trees, with fallen fruits and their belongings piled nearby. Double-checking the bullhead, he grabbed Yang by her coat, dragging her toward the water. He reared his arm back and tossed her in face-first, keeping his arm up, aiming at the water near her left, waiting for her to wake up. And soon enough, she did.
She burst from the water, gasping for air, seeing a bolt of lightning charging up in her face, flashing orange gold with a bit of blue and purple.
His voice made her gasp and flinch hard, but it had the desired effect. "Remnant knows me as The Reaper, a cold-blooded killer," he said, kneeling down to look her in the eyes. "But in truth, I only eliminate those who deserve it, refuse the call to change, or those who just happen to get in my way on a good day. Guess which plate you landed on."
The first thing she did was kick at him. This angered him; Reaper growled and put his hand in the water, electrocuting her, making her scream as her body locked up. After a few seconds, he stopped long enough to let her breathe and made sure she was listening attentively. He charged another bolt and shot the sand next to her, turning it to glass.
"You see, Yang, I'm here because you were let out of prison early...and I needed to see you, so this works out for me."
"How do you know me?" Yang asked with a groan, holding herself in pain. She didn't even look up at him to know he was glaring at her.
"Well, that's a foolish question," he said, straddling her as he pushed the needle blade out of his hand and under her chin. "But not the right one." He grabbed her by the top of her head and pinned her to the ground, wet sand soaking into her hair, splaying it around her. Yang would've retaliated, but her body was like a leaf on a magnetic plate. "The right question is 'who doesn't know about you?' "
He quietly chuckled when she flinc"ed at the cold touch of his metal hand moving onto her forehead, with his fingers pushing her hair apart. "Please don't," she whispered in terror.
"But I won't indulge your questions; I have but one question for you." He let go of her face and slowly grabbed and pinned her arms above her head by her wrists. "Do you regret your actions as a huntress?" She opened her mouth to answer but heard, "And speak the truth, or I put a hole in that pretty face of yours." His tone concealed any hint of gentleness. If not for the way his voice rumbled and hissed like something foul and inhuman, she might have made a sardonic remark, but fear silenced her.
She took a deep breath and looked directly into his masked eyes, saying, "I reveled in being a huntress during Beacon; Cole outclassed us in combat like he wasn't even trying, and I craved the thrill of surpassing him. He consistently rejected teamwork in missions, and he nearly got my best friend killed; I hated him so much after that...but when I ended up in jail-" she paused to suppress her fear and sorrow. "Now that I've had time to reflect, I realize I may have unfairly criticized everyone, and I didn't give Cole a chance...well, look where that got me."
"I asked if you re-" he said but was cut off.
She looked up at Reaper and practically pleaded, "Kill me if you want; my friends loathe me, my team cast me aside, and Ruby abandoned me. Hell, even my own mother rejected me." At this point, tears flowed freely around her, mixing into the saltwater. "I deserve it after everything I did."
"ypu really do feel remorse for it?" he asked, stepping back to let her sit up, creating space for her to feel a false sense of safety.
"I feel worse that I could've done something to help him out, but I hurt him; I'm not a huntress, I'm just a glass cannon," she said, turning away, crying more.
"As foolish, pathetic, and boastful as you are, I'm surprised you recognize the concept of a glass cannon," he said, scoffing at her.
Just as she stood up to protest, he pulled out a knife and threw it into her shoulder, hitting the ball of her joint, piercing bone just as he ran off. Yang was left there screaming in agony. "What's wrong with you!?" she seethed, trying not to cry.
"Never said I wouldn't leave a lasting reminder on you," he chuckled as he left in a flash of orange. She stood up and ran over to her friends, finding them just as they woke up. Ignoring the pain, she ripped the knife out of her and wrapped her torn coat around the wound, tying it off with a shoelace from her boot.
Mistral Wilds*
"No, please! I told you what I knew- AGHHHH!" A man's scream echoed as his arm was sliced off like warm cheese. He writhed on the ground as fire spewed from his assailant's hand, searing the wound closed.
"I'm not satisfied with what I already knew. I want names, trading routes - hell, I'd even take where he ate last night." An ashen-haired man glared, stomping the man beneath him before walking away.
"Brothers, it's Spindles, and you need to prepare- ACK," he said, a knife flying into the side of his neck.
Choking on blood, he shed tears, mouthing 'I'm so sorry' before letting go and exhaling.
"No loose ends," he replied, grabbing the communicator, then walked out of a bathroom leading to the entrance of the Dust Springs. Grabbing his things, he got dressed in a free stall, musing over the last two weeks of his search. He realized that this Rayla woman didn't exist after the destruction of Lakna.
"Might as well kill time and do a few contracts," he said to no one as he pulled up his scroll list.
- 3 Alpha Grimm contracts
- 4 missing persons
"Guess I got my work cut out for me," he mused, putting away the scroll and walking straight into the woods.
His usual hunts and investigating were as normal as he'd known in his world. Strangely, it wasn't too different here in Remnant. Looking for a monster, the only difference was this new-ish world he dove into through a portal had less challenging game. No amount of Grimm could surprise him, and none were a real threat since he cloaked his emotions to the beasts, hunting them with deadly efficiency. However, this world assumed him to be a Faunus and knew absolutely nothing about Witchers.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he came across a few corpses strung up on branches. Some were ripped up and half-eaten - two kids with arms chewed off, a woman seemingly eaten from her stomach up, organs missing, and ribcage in splinters. The man hanging from the branches was kept together by torn clothes and tendons, with the upper right side of his head seemingly half gnawed off, spilling brain chunks and blood on the grass below. His legs looked broken, with chunks missing from his right calf and left thigh.
Then there was a pile of various animals in the center of it all - deer gutted, wolves torn and clawed open, and numerous rabbits and birds littering the sides and top of the pile. It was a failed bait and slaughter frenzy, an outright massacre that left Geralt disappointed and saddened. "Just when I thought I'd seen it all here."
"Werewolves had cleaner feeding spots than this," he grumbled at the obviousness of this contract.
"A fledgling Beowolf and a few creeps at most." Geralt was bored with this contract and how easy it was. Unfortunately, the trail he picked up on was interrupted by the very Grimm he'd been hunting. The problem was, they were all running towards him.
"Hmm, too easy!" He grunted.
Black blood and pieces of bone armor sailed across the forest, bathing the surroundings with thick, tar-like blood. Sadly, he swung and slashed between all three Beowolves and four creeps with grace and speed that put Weiss to shame.
"How's the taste of my steel on your tongues?" he goaded, slipping his sword into the sheath in one fluid motion as he walked over to the few important skulls left behind and went to work tying them to a line of thin, grey, and worn-out rope, dragging them toward the direction of the collection office for his reward for his first two contracts.
Predictably, the hollow clattering and rattling of the skulls lured an alpha Gorgon and two fledglings slithered out of a cave a mile away. By their sizes and speeds, it was assumed the alpha was smart, angry, and quick while the younger ones were not as adept. Smirking, he tossed the line over a thick stump and pulled out his Ursine steel blade, getting into his usual Witcher's stance, mentally preparing for the most intense fight he'd had in a few years.
Unbeknownst to him, the sound of sharp hissing, rustling trees, and the subtle crunching under his boots mixed with the mossy smell of the forest filled his senses. It then shifted seamlessly into the sight of a great hall, smelling of cold marble and animal furs. For no more than a moment, Geralt shifted to his person, noticing he was wearing nothing on his torso, but waist down was raggedly torn pants, chains, and shackles adorning his wrists and the ankles of his plate-studded boots.
In front of him was a familiar king and general in mid-conversation. On his left stood child Ciri, who stood before the king nonchalantly cleaning her nails.
Emyr sat on his throne, listening to Roche's complaints.
"She's completely disregarded my authority and has endangered her own life by giving an enemy prisoner a weapon! It's bad enough she gives her guards the slip, but now-" Roche tried explaining rather angrily.
"Enough, Captain. You forget your place," Emyr said boredly. "She may have disregarded your authority, but she has much more power than you, and I trust her judgment."
The door opened, and Ciri walked in, Geralt right behind her. Roche held his tongue as the princess walked up to her father and bowed to him. "Father," she said respectfully as Geralt slowly bowed.
"My daughter," he said with a smile. "I was hoping you'd be here soon so I can ease Roche's mind. He's been very...annoying."
"Forgive me for being overly cautious when it comes to an enemy combatant becoming the personal bodyguard to the crown princess!" he hollered, clenching his fists.
"And your concern is appreciated. However, I don't approve of you simply complaining about it to me." He looked at his daughter and the bodyguard behind her. "Is this the knight you've chosen, daughter?"
"Yes, sir... this is Sir Geralt of Rivia."
"Mhmm..." he looked over to three of his royal guardsmen. "You three," he said. "Do it."
Those two words sent the three men into action, charging at the princess with weapons drawn. Ciri looked at them in shock as the first one started to swing his sword at her neck, only to be stopped by the flat of Geralt's sword. His lips curled into a silent snarl as he pushed him back into his compatriots. The three attacked once more, and Geralt slammed his fist into one of their chests and kicked another back as he locked swords with the third. They traded blows for a few seconds before Geralt brought his sword around and slammed it into the man's neck, making him collapse as he gasped for breath but ended up choking on blood.
"Move!" he shouted to Ciri, who stood up and backed away as the other two guards rallied and attacked. Geralt engaged both of them, pushing one back and trading blows with another before pushing that one back and engaging the other. It wasn't until one of the guards overextended a swing of his sword that Geralt got the better of him, hitting his arm up and plunging Ursine into the gap between the man's armor, kicking him free of the sword and glaring at the last guard.
To his credit, the guard let loose a roar filled with anger and charged at Geralt, sword held high. Geralt didn't even blink as he slammed into the man's chest using aard, sending him sprawling to the ground, and advancing on him quicker than the man could react, plunging the blade of Ursine into his chest.
Ciri watched all of this with a look of fascination and horror written on her face. She looked at her father, who had watched all of it without blinking. Did he just try and kill me...she asked herself.
Geralt wrenched his sword free and turned to Emyr, hesitating for a few seconds before returning to Ciri's side, aard up and sword at the ready.
Emyr started clapping, "excellent display," he said with a grim smile, "you responded well to the attack, boy, and do your family proud."
"That...was a test?" Ciri asked uncertainly.
"Of course, I had to make sure he could protect you, dear Cirilla."
"And what if I hadn't reacted in time?" Geralt asked, anger edging his voice.
Boredly regarding his question, he waved a hand to Ciri, "Then Cirilla would've died, and you would've been executed, obviously."
He stood and walked past Geralt to Roche, the captain of the guard who had watched the entire fight in shock. His sword clutched in his white-knuckled hands. "Was that an efficient display of the boy's talent?"
"Y-yes, your majesty..." he said, averting his eyes down.
"Good! Get some men in here to clean up the dead; their sight offends me." And with that, the king left.
Geralt sheathed his sword and looked at Ciri, "are you alright?" he asked.
She nodded numbly, "I'm fine, Sir Witcher..."
"That was madness," Roche muttered, kneeling down by the dead guards, "he wasted three men's lives...just to test you." He looked up at Geralt, "and the look in your eyes..."
"Enough, Roche," Cirilla said, walking towards the door, Geralt following.
"You're not a man, you're a monster!"
"I said enough!" Ciri snapped at Roche, who was wise enough to bite his tongue. However, he continued to glare at Geralt, who seemed to deflate slightly. "Sir Witcher did his duty today," she said, "No more, no less. He saved me from death. If you have a problem with that, Captain-"
Geralt snapped out of it and dropped to his knees, covered in guts and blood. All three Grimm lay dead and dismembered.
"You can't trick a witcher," he smiled as he stood up and collected their skulls, bagging the rest in separate bags. These Grimm gave him a good fight, but ultimately he saw through it immediately, feeling the need to go all out on a Grimm he'd never fought before.
"Hypnotic hissing - no, more like trance-inducing, like turning on the tap to listen to running water."
He took the skulls of the three Gorgons, tied them to the rope, then decided it safer to bag them up and ran into the thickest parts of the woods, climbing a few slopes to try and cut corners getting back to town.
Times hadn't just changed for him and Ciri; it was a shift in dimensions. Now, he was stuck in this world because he couldn't live with losing Ciri. But in choosing her, he'd doomed everyone he knew and killed them, all because he couldn't fathom a world without his surrogate daughter.
He refused his emotions to grow wh"n he felt a tear slip and took off on a dead sprint, screaming to the cart, slowing to move away. They did as instructed, and everyone around saw Geralt toss the bag away and practically rip his sword out of its sheath, getting into his stance, preparing for a fight, but nothing came. Geralt zeroed in on his hearing, listening closely to just about everything, but no threats came or anything. Letting out a deep breath, he gathered his skulls and walked to the collection office, turning in all the skulls to the person at the front desk.
"Welcome to Collector's Expender, how may-"
"The Gorgon skulls were a bit harder to kill than the others were," he interrupted, giving his bag to the woman at the desk. "If it's all the same, I'll just go to the hotel in town, and I'd like to get paid as soon as possible."
Smiling awkwardly, she replied, "I'll send someone to give you your lien. Just give the front desk this card, and you'll get one free night," sliding a black card to his gloves and taking the bones to the back to figure out the price of all the finished contracts.
"Thanks for the card," he said, walking out to meet five armed men and a sixth standing in front of all of them, arms crossed and smirking.
"You that cat-eyed freak stealing our jobs," the man said as if making a statement and not asking.
"Must've been a different cat-eyed freak," he snarked, shoving past them but was grabbed, and an attempt was made to throw him to the floor. Geralt snapped back and locked the shortest guy's head in his arm and spun him on the steps, knocking his breath clear out of him. As fast as possible, he tied the boot laces around his neck in a pseudo hogtie, leaving his arms free but all it did was piss off the others.
Geralt glared as he said, "Come on, you piece of filth," conjuring up Quen just in case he couldn't get a flawless fight. Like a bat outta hell, Geralt slashed three of the men on his left in the legs but not deep enough to be fatal. Then the two on his left went in without a plan of attack, and Geralt took them out without a problem. Blades did clash for a few moments, but seeing that he gave no ground, Geralt forced his arms up and out, then slammed the pommel of his sword into the fourth's cheek, breaking it.
The fifth guy had an axe, so he felt like being a bit creative and let him hook his sword in the inner part and lost his blade, then got close to his opponent, put his hand to his chest, and used aard to throw him into one of the others, putting them both down.
All around him, the six men rolled about with groans and moaned complaints, but Geralt ignored it and grabbed his sword, walking off without a second thought.
"No matter the state of things, it's all the same in every world, I guess," Geralt sighed as he sheathed his sword while reminiscing his entire life to pass the time. What he found was that in hell, he had found happiness and fulfillment despite the road he'd trekked so far.
"You're my greatest achievement," he said aloud and smiled thinking about how ciri had not blamed or hated him for what he had done.