Tongue

In the pitch-black of the deep night, torchlight illuminated graves that had been violently dug open. Strangely, the vast majority of the graves still contained scattered white bones, with only a sparse few completely devoid of skeletal remains.

The bodies that vanished are all from fresh graves!

Mulling over the scene before him, Roy thought of an extremely greedy, bloodthirsty monster in his mind—the ghoul.

If ghouls were wreaking havoc in the graveyard, the situation would be quite tricky even for a Witcher, let alone a group of ordinary people like them.

"There's danger here, everyone get out!" The moment Roy's hasty words fell, a bizarre whipping sound reached their ears, as if someone was cracking a leather whip against the air.

One second, two seconds.

The burly Butcher suddenly let out a muffled groan, like a fish hooked by a line. His limbs violently snapped backward, stretched out in a spasm, and then, pulled along, he stumbled forward two steps.

At that moment, the torches in the hands of the few abruptly illuminated a long strip of an object crossing the night sky, shimmering with a flesh-colored gloss. It sprang phantom-like from the dark, piercing the Butcher's shoulder like a sharp arrow and tearing open a massive gash.

Pusig, who was the first to snap out of it, swung his steel sword upward, but the long strip let out its hold prematurely, shrinking in a flash back into the darkness beyond the reach of the firelight.

"What the hell is that?!" The men scrambled to form a circle, keeping the injured man in the middle.

Meanwhile, the Butcher was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, his teeth nearly clenched to pieces. He clamped his hands desperately over the massive wound, yet blood still gushed out like a spring. His body began to grow limp and his life was draining away rapidly. He already anticipated his own end.

"I'm done for, you guys run! Don't mind me." After saying this, the Butcher shoved the others away and charged into the night alone.

Old Jack, the eldest among them, cast his gaze around, a ruthless glint flashing in his single eye.

"Run! Save whoever we can. Only by keeping our lives do we stand a chance to settle accounts with this freak!"

The men fled wildly in his wake.

Roy had been dragged along by the blacksmith for a moment before he managed to steady himself, still trembling incessantly. That thing is definitely not a ghoul. What on earth is it? He abruptly glanced back, vaguely catching sight of a hunchbacked humanoid creature. The thing lacked the streamlined build of a leopard; in fact, it looked bloated beyond measure, with a protruding belly like an old woman six months pregnant, yet its running speed far outpaced a leopard's.

It circled the group unceasingly, trailing afterimage after afterimage in the dark graveyard like a gust of wind. As it sped along, it let out sharp, ear-piercing cries akin to a barn owl, mocking them while savoring the process of the hunt.

Gathering corpses, hunchbacked like an old crone, spitting a long tongue, residing in burial vaults. Connecting these few clues, Roy vaguely formed a guess. Seeing that he still wore a distracted expression, Old Jack couldn't help but slap him hard across the face. "Stop dazing out, Roy, run! Don't think about anything else, just run!" At this, Roy channeled his remaining strength and sprinted toward the graveyard gates!

Close at hand, just a hair's breadth away from escaping the hellish graveyard.

A ghostly figure descended from the sky amidst a rustling wind, abruptly blocking their path. That face was covered in skin fungus and tumors, ferocious and ugly to the extreme.

Its dark cyan skin exuded the stench of a corpse and was covered in mottled scales. Its four limbs bore long claws like sickles, stained with a thick layer of blood and gore.

The evil witches of fairy tales, old women disfigured by fire, and ghouls from nightmares could all fail to capture its terror.

It opened its deformed arms to the four of them, smiling to reveal a mouthful of jagged black teeth. Its disgusting body was like a mountain of flesh, impossible to cross.

It's over!

A wave of despair simultaneously surged in the hearts of the men, but they were unwilling to surrender without a fight!

Old Jack, the blacksmith, and the nightwatchman gripped their steel swords with both hands, while Roy drew his crossbow, gritting his teeth as he nocked a bolt stained with wolf's blood.

At that very moment, a figure abruptly ambushed from the side, slamming waist-high into the monster and taking it completely by surprise as it knocked it down to the ground.

The Butcher was covered in blood, a frantic expression on his face, as he used both hands to frantically pin down the monster's gaping maw.

"Go! Find a Witcher! Avenge me, avenge Brandon!" His eyes were split to the corners, welling up with blood and tears.

The poor father had already guessed his child's fate and was resolved to die. With his only family gone, what meaning was there in living?

As soon as he finished speaking, the monster violently shook off the restraint and kicked him away like a sandbag. He collapsed to the ground, condition unknown. Unappeased, the creature seemed completely fixated on its hatred and paid no heed to the four of Roy, continuing its lunge toward the fallen Butcher.

Its deformed claws danced into a blur, and flesh flew in the flickering firelight as it prepared to tear the man to pieces.

"Old man, you want to play the hero and leave me looking like a coward?" Blacksmith Pusig suddenly raised his steel sword high, his date-red face revealing a trace of absolute resolve. "Boss, you guys take Roy and leave! Skellig only has men who die in battle, not cowards who turn back!" Without waiting for the three to react, Pusig rushed back into the graveyard without a second thought, his long sword thrusting toward the back of the rampaging demonic shadow.

Old Jack and the nightwatchman grabbed Roy by the left and right as he struggled to take aim with his crossbow. "Let's go, kid, don't let their sacrifice go to waste."

Roy halted his struggle, let his crossbow down dejectedly, and with an uncontainable ache in his nasal passages, fled the graveyard with the two men.

The three ran as fast as their legs could carry them, not even daring to look back, until their entire bodies felt fit to fall apart and the brightly lit fires of Kaye Village appeared in their field of vision.

This light acted like a signal flare, instantly detonating the fatigue and pain lurking within Roy's body. He only felt his mind grow dizzy and murky like paste, his legs turned to jelly, and he abruptly collapsed in a faint.

"Roy?" Jack hurriedly lifted him up, noticing his flushed face and tightly closed eyes. He felt his forehead—it was burning hot. Old Jack could fully understand: after braving the cold in the wilderness for half a day without adequate rest, expending massive amounts of physical and mental energy, and enduring the stress brought by wild wolves and that terrifying monster.

"He's still a child." Thompson sighed, carrying Roy on his back as they returned to the village.

The fifty-something white-haired village chief came out to greet them with several villagers. Seeing the three of them covered in filth and looking utterly disheveled, a heavy bitterness washed over his aged face as he stammered out a tentative question,

"Fletcher and Pusig..."

"They aren't coming back." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose with a single hand, his wrinkled face covered in pain, laced with a trace of fear.

"Chief, you were right. The wilderness at night is too dangerous. We went to the graveyard to find Brandon, only to be attacked by a terrifying monster. You must warn everyone immediately and forbid anyone from approaching the graveyard."

Old Jack paced back and forth on the spot, speaking with bitter hatred, "Ordinary people can't handle that monster. We must hire a Witcher!"

"Tomorrow, send men to post notices in the city!" Several villagers who heard the news nodded frantically. "Don't ever let that thing come and harass the village."

Tonight was destined to be restless as every household was woken up one by one by the village chief and issued a warning.

The once peaceful and serene Kaye Village descended into absolute chaos because of this sudden accident.

Meanwhile, Roy was sent home by Jack, where he remained trapped in a high fever and unconsciousness.