The Divine Hunter
chapter-478

A gust of wind traveled across the ranch, danced through the top of Whiterun, and whispered into the room of Dragonsreach.

"Sanguine? Why do you wish to know of it?" Farengar looked at the trio grimly, rubbing his hand on the dragonstone.

"I think we ran into its avatar in The Bannered Mare." Arvel gulped. "He disguised himself as one Sam Guevenne and joined a drinking contest. Then he spirited the winner—Goldeneye—away. We have no idea what Sanguine did to him. He's been a bit off these few days."

Farengar turned his attention to Roy. The mercenary seemed to have gone through something traumatic. He seemed out of it, and his eyes were dim, unlike what they used to be. And he saw a sword strapped to his back. A sword with a pommel made of ruby. He didn't have that sword the last time we met.

"I used to study at the College of Winterhold. Looked into magic and all kinds of stories and legends. I have heard of the name ‘Sanguine’." The mage said, "Our world is not home to only humans, monsters, and dragons. Something even more powerful resides in our plane of existence."

"Are you talking about the Nine Divines? Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, Dibella, the Goddess of Beauty and Freedom, Arkay, the God of the Cycle of Birth and Death, and our god, Talos." Flynn straightened his collar out, a hint of worship glimmering in his eyes. "Temples and altars dedicated to these gods exist all over Skyrim, and altars can grant blessings for believers. The believers of these Divines possess incredible power. That is proof of the Divines' existence."

"Sanguine is not a Divine," Farengar said. "But in some ways, it is similar to a Divine, so it is a god as well. But these gods have jurisdiction over things that are unsavory to most people. Some are even downright evil. Deception, conspiracies, plague, madness, oaths, and curses. Sanguine is the Prince of depravity and corruption. These gods are called the Daedric Princes, and as far as I know, there are sixteen of them."

Stress lines appeared on Farengar's cheeks. "It doesn't matter which kind of god you ran into. They are not the kind of existence we can fight. Daedric Princes, especially. Divines rarely appear before mortals, but Daedric Princes don't follow that rule. They live in Oblivion primarily, yet they can manifest themselves in different worlds—including Tamriel—through their avatars. But outside of Oblivion, their power is limited."

"Wait a minute, so you're saying a Daedric Prince came to the inn, got into a drinking contest, and lost to Goldeneye?" Flynn paled.

"Perhaps it was just trying to entertain itself. Gods aren't as distant as you think. Sanguine is the Prince of Corruption and Depravity. It loves to travel through worlds, have some fun. Immortality tends to bore you out, and it loves to play." A pause later, Farengar added, "Some people worship it, though. And there are altars to Sanguine. Wherever it appears, danger follows. And riches. Sanguine has left many stories in the lands of Tamriel. It would pick a few lucky ones and put them through a series of trials just to entertain itself. Should the chosen ones pass, they would receive valuable and special rewards. Weapons, armor, or something else."

"And if they fail?"

"Not sure. No records of it." Farengar sighed, and he looked at Roy. "Goldeneye came back in one piece, so that's the good news. Wanna tell us what you saw in Sanguine's domain? And is that weapon you carry its reward?"

"I ran into one of the Daedric Princes?" Gods can manifest themselves in this world? Back in my world, gods have disappeared for eons. Roy took a deep breath, and his eyes began to twinkle. "It sent me to that happy village and made me destroy a girl's dream just for fun?"

Roy was reminded of a certain entity he met back in the witcher world. The Master of Mirrors. Roy wondered if that girl and Redmount actually existed. No. The ruins I woke up in must be where Redmount used to be. And Sherry's strapped to my back. But how much of the story is true? Is the whole story about the villagers' harassment of Sherry and her mother's murder real? Or is it just something Sanguine came up with to torture me? If it was real, then that meant I destroyed Sherry's peaceful life.

***

Roy looked at his companions, who were eager to hear his story. A while of hesitation later, he recounted his tale through Arvel. The story came as a harrowing surprise for his companions. They were in disbelief, shock, and awe. And in the end, they sighed.

"So Sherry died in that fire, but Sanguine revived her and made a utopia for her?" Flynn asked, "But why?"

"An experiment, perhaps. The Princes treat humans like how we treat insects." A hint of sorrow flashed in Farengar's eyes. "But no matter what, Sanguine did help the girl. It revived her and kept her locked in that village. Created the perfect cage for her and observed her life like she was its pet bird. And then, on a whim, it tossed Goldeneye into this game."

"What did the villagers go through, anyway?" asked Arvel.

"Probably killed off," said Flynn. "They deserved it. They had no right asking for mercy when they showed none to an innocent girl. Especially not mercy from a Prince."

"Pity Sherry was dragged into this. She was kind and beautiful like a princess from a fairy tale." Arvel shook his head. He was reminded of someone, and he fell silent for a moment. "She had received nothing but pain in this world."

"I think I know how you feel, Goldeneye." Flynn patted Roy's shoulder. "But I don't think you should blame yourself. You granted her wish. She's tired of her boring life in Redmount. Tired of her fake utopia. It was why she wanted to release the butterflies. She, too, wanted change, and you released her from her cage."

The Dragonborn peered at Roy's blade. "And you fulfilled your promise. You took her with you."

***

Roy looked at the Dragonborn. He was surprised that this honest man had a sensitive heart beneath that rugged exterior. The witcher held the hilt of Sherry and unsheathed it, then he presented it to his companions.

'Sherry (a sword made by Sanguine in its boredom)

Type: Ebony blade

Components: Ruby, bear pelt, ebony ingot, soul

Specs: Weighs 3.06 pounds, hilt measures nine inches, blade measures thirty-five inches.

Affix:

Guardian: Whenever you hold this blade, you gain Sherry's protection and assistance in battle. +10% to all stats under twenty points.

Levels up any skill you have (Level 4 or below), or elevates one of Aerondight's affix that have not been strengthened more than twice.

Soul gem at full capacity. Energy will be reduced according to usage.'

***

"This is a marvelous enchantment. Powerful, too," Farengar said. "Not even the best enchanter in Cyrodiil can do this."

"But how did she turn into a sword? How did a human body turn into metal?" Arvel asked. "How does this work?"

"There's only one possibility I know," said Farengar. "Every time you use this sword, you'll have to spend its energy. And this sword is powered by Sherry's soul. Do you know what this means? Every time you swing this blade, you'll be exhausting the girl's soul." Farengar looked at the witcher. "Goldeneye, will you use this blade until Sherry's soul is erased, or will you use it as a decoration? The latter will keep the girl's soul intact."

A long silence fell upon them.

Roy stared at the runes on the blade. He didn't spend much time with Sherry. There was no love or romance between them, but she did show him great kindness and warmth during the short time he was in that village surrounded by a perpetual sunset.

She felt like a fairy untainted by this world. Like a little sister Roy wanted to protect. The witcher took a deep breath and asked, "If I destroy this blade, will her soul be free? Or will she go somewhere else?"

Arvel voiced that question out.

Farengar mused over it. "Nordlings can only go to Sovngarde if they die in battle. Beastmen can only travel to Hircine's hunting grounds after they die. And only those who thirst for knowledge can enter the library of Hermaeus Mora. The Divines and Princes can be picky about who they let into their domain. Only Arkay, the God of the Cycle of Birth and Death, accepts everyone. Most people go to Arkay after their deaths, and they will be sent into the cycle, reborn in Tamriel or elsewhere."

"So Sherry has a chance to be reborn?"

"Not exactly. She opened her heart to Sanguine before her death, and he has left a mark on her. Even if you destroy the sword, she might just return to Sanguine and once again become its toy. And her soul might power another blade, turning her into yet another prize for the next player. And then they're going to use that sword until nothing is left of her soul. I'd advise against destroying the sword."

"You need to buy a house." Flynn held Roy's shoulder. Excitedly, he said, "Use her to decorate your home. Then she can watch over you forever!"

***

Roy brushed his hand across the blade, and he felt goosebumps all over the back of his hand. There was something talking to him through the blade. And he saw a girl with blonde hair and green eyes standing before him. She had a big smile on her face, and the girl spun around happily.

Roy held the blade up and mused over his decision.

Flynn and Arvel exchanged a look.

"So, anything new about the dragonstone?"

"Still deciphering."

"We'll go to the inn. See you once we settle this matter."

***

Roy returned to his room in The Bannered Mare and plopped down on his bed, then he concentrated on his character sheet.

'Bound weapons:

Aerondight, Gwyhyr. You have one unused powerup.

You now have two more enchanted weapons: Ancient Nordling Honed Axe of Cold, and Sherry. You also have a soul that has full trust in you.

You may now choose from the following options:

1. Absorb Ancient Nordling Honed Axe of Cold and increase an affix slot for your bound weapons. You will also gain a new affix. Frostbite: Every time you hit a target, you have a low chance to deal cold damage, slowing the target's speed and reaction.

2. Spend 3000 pure souls (EXP) and 300 Mana to merge Sherry into your weapon, creating a special space that can house a soul weapon. Your bound weapon will receive a soul, granting it a hint of life.

The weapon will also gain a soul power—Guardian: Whenever you hold this blade, you shall receive Sherry's aid in battle. +10% to all stats lower than twenty points and level up any single skill lower than level four/power up an affix that has only been strengthened twice or less. You may swap the level up once per day.

Note: Every time your weapon powers up, its soul will grow as well, but at the cost of more pure souls.'

…

Roy was surprised at the new options. He did wonder if his weapons would gain a mind of their own if he kept powering them up, and now his hypothesis was proven to be true, though in a different way.

So, it'll gain a soul. No doubt from Sherry. Then Sherry can stay with me forever and grow as I do. "Wonder what she's gonna think. Will she do it? What if I find a way to revive her? What if I find a way to let her live? If I merge her with Aerondight…"

Sherry suddenly shivered. She was sending a message to Roy.

She wants to stay with me, huh? I did make that promise back at Redmount. But do you really want to come with me? I'll be traveling the lands of different worlds.

Sherry trembled again.

Very well. Roy touched the blade with both hands.

'EXP: 3500 → 500.'

A pair of swords appeared around him. One had a glimmering blade and intricately-carved crossguard, and its fuller jutted out, forming a long and sharp pyramid. The other was as crimson as blood. Unlike Gwyhyr, it had no ornaments or decoration. It was as simple and quiet as an undisturbed lake.

'Gwyhyr (Ancient Nordling Honed Axe of Cold absorbed)

Affixes:

Circulation, Ignite, Painful Strike, Teleport (Elevated), Suppression (Elevated), Devour (Elevated), Frostbite (New).

Aerondight (Ebony sword absorbed)

Soul power: Guardian (Stat and skill unpicked)

Affixes: Mana Reduction, Aqua Blessing, Aqua Summoning, Teleport (Elevated), Suppression (Elevated), Devour (Elevated).'

…

Roy touched both blades, and he felt a surge of warmth flowing into his fingertips. The warmth then coursed through his veins. It felt like someone was hugging him gently, supporting him with their power. And then, he felt strength welling within him.

'Strength: 15 → 16.5

Dexterity: 15.5 → 17

Perception: 12 → 13.2

Charisma: 9 → 9.9.'

Ten percent increase. A single stat increase would be nothing, but this skill affects every stat under twenty points. And if I keep leveling up, the skill's restriction would be loosened. And I can also level up one of my skills or affixes.

'Devour (Elevated).'

Let's do this.

'Devour (Elevated Rank 2).'

White light enveloped the blade, and a seventh star appeared on the fuller. Now the stars truly resembled an ouroboros.

Devour was Roy's strongest offensive ability thus far. At this point, he knew Devour alone could slash through a dragon's hide and gravely injure it. And he could also switch the powerup to any other skill that was below Level 4. Including but not limited to Sword Mastery, Crossbow Mastery, Witcher Signs, and Witcher Senses. And just like the stat restriction, the limits of this skill would loosen as he leveled up.

Guardian was an impressive skill, though it required a lot of EXP to level up. Now I have two ways to spend my EXP. Either I level up, or I level Guardian up.

Roy swung his blade around and crouched a little. Then he swung his sword in a way the people of this world would. The air hissed, and flashes of light arced through the air.

Aerondight felt livelier than usual. It would correct the witcher's every movement, perfecting it and making it easier to perform. Another swing later, the blade trembled like the wings of a butterfly.

And then he heard someone talking to him.

"Sherry? I promised I wouldn't leave you. We're going on an adventure together. I'll take you across worlds. Show you all there is to see."

And he heard a silvery laughter travel across the air. Roy smiled. He then whipped out some grease and a piece of cloth, then he slowly wiped the grease on his blade. From now on, he wouldn't tuck his blade away in his inventory unless absolutely necessary.

***

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