41-42

*Chapter 41: The Twisted Being*

Ignoring the cries of the young she-wolf.

The Witcher stepped firmly on her frail body, his demon-hunting rifle aimed at Vivian's head. With a low, gravelly voice, he spoke:

"Little wolf, hasn’t your clan taught you that a Witcher's bullets aren’t something you can just catch?"

"Awwooo~"

Beneath his boot, the young she-wolf struck at the Witcher’s footwear with her slender arms, struggling against his weight, emitting helpless growls.

The scene unfolding in the forest…

If it had taken place anywhere else, it would surely have drawn a mob of self-proclaimed righteous avengers.

However, watching the young she-wolf subdued under the Witcher’s control, Amanda merely furrowed her brows momentarily before quickly regaining her composure.

After all, this frail-looking child pinned under the Witcher's boot was not truly weak.

On the contrary, she was a terrifying creature capable of taking a bullet head-on and effortlessly knocking a grown man off his feet.

Even her seemingly delicate appearance could very well be nothing more than a facade to evoke sympathy and deceive others.

Taking a deep breath and averting her gaze from the struggling young she-wolf, Amanda looked up at Geralt before speaking:

"If our investigation is correct, her mother is already dead."

Hearing Amanda's explanation, Geralt glanced down at the young she-wolf beneath his boot.

"So, just a lone cub cast out from her pack."

His gaze met Vivian's emerald-green eyes, and for a brief moment, a flicker of emotion passed through his own.

However, in the next instant, his expression returned to its usual cold indifference.

As a battle-hardened Witcher, he knew better than to make the foolish mistake of pitying his prey.

The runes on the demon-hunting rifle began to glow mysteriously.

"Say hello to your mother for me, little wolf."

As Geralt's words fell, the glow from the runes intensified.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger and reunite the young she-wolf with her mother…

A sudden, inexplicable sense of dread surged within Geralt's heart.

He stopped mid-action, turning his head to look toward the Devil's River Forest behind him, his expression grave.

From the depths of the silent forest, he could feel an unprecedented darkness spreading forth.

This power was grotesque and malevolent—something Geralt had rarely encountered even in his career as a Witcher.

Under his gaze, the surroundings began to warp and distort unnaturally. Straight trees twisted into grotesque, claw-like shapes, their tangled forms resembling a nightmare's aberration.

And from the twisted depths of the forest emerged a towering figure, over two meters tall, clad in a suit and wearing a black hat that revealed only sharp teeth. Holding a twisted umbrella, it staggered forward with warped, erratic steps.

The figure's grotesqueness was so extreme that even a mere glance at it filled Geralt with an overwhelming sense of insanity.

"Everyone, close your eyes! Do not look at it!"

Gritting his teeth, Geralt adjusted his grip on the demon-hunting rifle and aimed at the towering figure. His voice rasped as he shouted a warning to the others.

Upon hearing Geralt's desperate cry, Amanda shut her eyes without hesitation.

Though her sight was gone, her hearing remained acute, capturing every sound around her.

Instinctively clutching her handgun, the cold metallic touch offered no comfort, only deepening her unease.

"Aaah—!"

A blood-curdling scream pierced the air.

Amanda flinched as the cry came from a direction where a town deputy had failed to close his eyes in time.

The deputy locked eyes with the distorted figure emerging from the forest.

In the next moment, terror filled the deputy’s gaze as his fingers began to bend unnaturally, pulled by an invisible force that twisted them into grotesque angles.

"No, no, stop!"

Watching his own fingers warp, the deputy shook his head in fear, pleading desperately.

But the distortion did not halt at his cries.

Crunch! Crack! Snap!  

Amid a horrifying series of bone-snapping sounds, the deputy’s head twisted backward, his bulging eyes frozen in terror as his body contorted into an unnatural shape.

Thick blood spurted from his mangled flesh, revealing shattered, jagged bones beneath.

"Damn it!"

Staring at the grotesque corpse, Geralt’s face darkened further.

Just a single glance was enough to cause such monstrous distortion.

Even Geralt found such a power exceptionally troublesome.

The towering figure, its warped form staggering, came to a halt before the Witcher.

It twisted its neck unnaturally, bending forward in a distorted posture to stare at the young she-wolf, Vivian.

"Your target is the little wolf?"

Realizing the creature’s focus, Geralt rasped.

"…"

The towering figure gave no response, maintaining its silent, distorted stance.

Yet even in its silence, Geralt felt immense pressure.

Glancing at the runes on his rifle, he saw their glow dim and twist.

"…"

Weighing his odds of survival in continued confrontation, Geralt reluctantly chose to retreat.

There was no doubt now—he was no longer the hunter in this scenario.

Lifting his boot from the young she-wolf, he stepped back slightly.

Under Geralt's wary gaze, the figure moved. With its twisted umbrella, it gently hooked Vivian’s limp form from the ground.

In the blink of an eye, Vivian was no longer on the ground but dangling from the umbrella’s handle.

With a pale, slender hand gripping the umbrella’s tip, the figure tipped its black hat toward Geralt in a silent gesture.

Then, with its distorted gait, it vanished back into the forest depths.

As the figure disappeared, the warped trees around them straightened once more, and the oppressive, twisted force suffusing the forest dissipated.

"Whoosh~"

Exhaling deeply, Geralt lowered his gaze.

It was only then that he noticed the cigar in his mouth had long since gone out.

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 42: Interrogation*

“Can you tell me, Officer Amanda…”  

Inside the confined interrogation room, a single glaring lamp flickered harshly. Amanda’s slightly haggard face reflected on the glass walls of the transparent chamber.

"What exactly happened that night in the Devil’s River Forest?"  

Across the table, an FBI agent in a suit glanced down at the file in his hands and asked in as calm a tone as possible.

After all, the individual he was interrogating was not like the usual criminals he dealt with.

Amanda shifted uncomfortably in the interrogation chair, glancing at the camera in the corner of the room before finally responding in a hoarse voice.

"I’ve already reported everything to the Mounted Police Headquarters."  

"And I’m not a criminal!"  

“That’s precisely why I didn’t cuff you, Officer Amanda.”

The FBI agent kept his gaze steady on Amanda as he continued flipping through the file.

“In fact, it was because of your report that the federal government sent me here.”

“Your report describes things that seem straight out of a movie, leading us to question whether your mind is completely sound.”

"If only it were just a movie," Amanda sighed softly in response.

“Unfortunately, we both know this isn’t fiction but reality.”

If Amanda had been the only one claiming to witness these events, the FBI might have dismissed it as the delusions of an overworked officer and referred her to a psychologist.

However, too many people had witnessed what transpired in Devil’s River Forest.

The entire town’s police force and the bodies of the officers who lost their lives served as undeniable evidence that Amanda’s account was no mere figment of imagination—it was the truth.

This truth sent shockwaves through the federal government.

“Now then, tell me, Officer Amanda…”

The FBI agent placed a small vial on the interrogation table. Inside was a transparent liquid. He glanced at the bottle before asking Amanda directly.

"What is this supposed to be?"

Following the events in Devil’s River Forest, the FBI swiftly launched an investigation and retrieved the item in question.

“A potion to cure ‘wolfbane.’”

Amanda glanced at the vial before calmly replying.

“I mentioned this in my report. A monster hunter gave it to me before he left. He explained that humans attacked by werewolves would be infected with a virus known as ‘wolfbane.’ Without timely treatment, the infected would ultimately transform into bloodthirsty beasts or wolf slaves under the virus's influence.”

“So, you took this potion to the hospital and used it to treat those infected with ‘wolfbane.’”

The FBI agent studied the nearly empty vial and continued.

"Perhaps you don’t know, Amanda, but when the FBI obtained this ‘wolfbane cure,’ we immediately analyzed its contents. The results showed that this so-called cure was nothing more than plain water—water that might have been boiled."

One could only imagine the frustration the FBI felt when they sent this precious "cure" to their labs, only to receive such an anticlimactic report.

“Water?!”

Amanda’s weary face finally showed a hint of disbelief at the FBI agent’s revelation.

"That’s impossible. I clearly used that potion to cure both the civilians and the police officers of their ‘wolfbane’ infection."

"Perhaps this involves a supernatural element that current scientific instruments cannot detect," the agent speculated.

Indeed, that was the prevailing theory among the FBI after receiving the lab report.

They refused to believe that the potion was merely boiled water and instead attributed its effects to an unmeasurable, supernatural force.

"...”

Amanda fell silent.

As someone who had personally experienced the events in Devil’s River Forest, she felt the weight of those memories far more than the FBI agents, who could only read about it in reports. Even now, she often relived the horrors in her dreams.

"What about the monster hunter, Geralt?"

Carefully placing the vial back into a specialized case, the FBI agent refocused on Amanda.

“Do you have anything else to add—any details you might have missed in your report?”

"Everything I know is already in the report," Amanda replied, shaking her head.

“After giving me the potion, the monster hunter left town.”

"Did he say anything to you or reveal anything by accident?"

The agent pressed on, relentless in his questioning about the hunter, the werewolves, and the supernatural forces involved.

“By accident?”

Amanda frowned, her mind sifting through her memories of the hunter’s words.

“When he first appeared, I heard him mention something about a ‘Great Purge.’ He seemed to suggest that after this event, werewolves or similar beings went into hiding. The wolf-woman who appeared in Devil’s River Forest was also initially brought to the town by her mother to hide.”

"The Great Purge?"  

Amanda’s unexpected answer momentarily broke through the FBI agent’s cold demeanor, and his expression became noticeably more animated.

"Perhaps that explains why the federal government has no leads on supernatural forces."

“It’s not that they don’t exist but that those who wield such powers have hidden themselves.”

"With thousands of crimes happening every day across America, who’s to say some of them aren’t connected to supernatural entities?"

Once the seed of doubt is planted, it inevitably grows.

The realization of supernatural forces would lead authorities to reexamine countless unsolved cases and “coincidental” accidents, suspecting hidden powers at work behind them.

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