Fiendhunter

**"Hmm..."** 

Bai Lang massaged his throbbing temple, consciousness adrift in a haze. The distant susurration of trickling water pricked his lupine ears as his slit-pupiled eyes pierced the cavern's gloom. 

"Where... wasn't I on a mission?" 

Neural lightning fractured his thoughts. Murmurs echoed through stalactites: 

"Bloody hell, stuck disposing of this freak." 

"Quit whining. Finish the Baron's dirty work before this cursed place swallows us whole." 

Ignoring the gravediggers, foreign knowledge flooded his synapses: 

**Name:** Bai Lang 

**Vocation:** Witcher 

**Rank:** Novice (0/100) 

**Attributes:** Strength 10, Agility 13, Constitution 20, Will 19 

**Signs:** Aard • Axii • Quen • Yrden (Level I) 

**Bloodline:** Elder Blood (Dormant) • Feline Optics (Active) 

**Arts:** Toxicology Resistance • Alchemical Synthesis • Ballistics 

Before he could process the absurdity, shadows stirred. The diggers' spades fell silent as a hunched silhouette dragged away their companion. 

"Og! Bring the corpse!" 

No answer came. Bai Lang seized a bloodied rag for modesty, hurling a severed arm into the pit. "Your request." 

Screams erupted below. Footsteps sloshed through mire as Bai Lang melted behind limestone columns, observing the panicked mortal through half-lidded eyes. 

Silence. Then— 

*Squelch.* 

A two-meter horror emerged—lichen hair framing a piscine snout, webbed claws dripping swamp filth. The stench of rotting carp assaulted his senses. 

*Swamp Hag.* 

As dying embers surrendered to darkness, the creature pivoted. Bai Lang's hands flew into the Axii Sign, azure light stunning the beast. With a backward leap fueled by ancestral muscle memory, he escaped the immediate peril. 

*Clang!* 

His elbow struck silver—a witcher's blade wedged in stone. He tore it free, fleeing through subterranean streams where phosphorescent fungi painted ghostly trails. 

At a fork, the Hag reappeared. Yrden's violet sigil flared beneath its claws as steel met talons in spark-showering defiance. 

"Fascinating strength for a common mutation," he mused, Axii's glow drowning the creature's consciousness. The silver sang through rancid flesh. 

Yet victory proved fleeting—Quen's golden shield failed as claws raked his ribs. He collapsed into brackish water, watching the Hag's death throes with clinical detachment. A shimmering firefly emerged, its aureate light knitting torn flesh. 

*So this world's magic mends what it mars.* 

The Bestiary glowed crimson: *"Swamp Hags: Born from drowned witches' spite and marshland alchemy..."* 

Bai Lang smirked at the update. "Medieval Europe—where fairy tales wear fangs." 

Methodically, he harvested mutagenic glands and followed scent trails of fear-sweat towards daylight. A whispered Aard shattered false walls, dawn's blade cleaving the cavern's throat. 

In the cleansing light, he reread his grim inheritance: *"Cause of Death: Impalement upon peasant's pitchfork during Baron's purge. Financial Status: 12 crowns, 3 orens."* 

"Charming prologue," he remarked to the wind, silver sword catching the sun's first kiss.