Chapter 559

In Marvel, the System Works for Me

The SUV stopped before the fountain. Geralt looked up at the curved staircase and sighed.

"Rich people sure love making things complicated."

They had no choice but to get out and walk.

The Demon Hunter Gun hung diagonally across his back. The Demon-Breaking Hand Crossbow was folded against his wrist, loaded with three Demon-Breaking Arrows.

"Huh?" Geralt thought he heard a scream. Light shone from inside the villa.

White light.

Green light.

Green light was strange—it looked ridiculous above someone's head and terrifying across someone's face.

There was only a fine line between ridiculous and terrifying.

A hairline.

Geralt channeled magic into his eyes and activated Spirit Sight and Night Vision. His pupils turned from black to vivid blue.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Geralt saw a ghost and four people: two men and two women.

The ghost floated in midair, his face bathed in green light. It was Harold Kovos.

Through Spirit Sight, Geralt saw black mist coiling around Harold, thick as ink.

There was no doubt about it. He was a Wraith.

Wraiths were generally C-Rank monsters. That meant the mission rating was a little off.

But that was fine.

Unexpected complications were common. They were part of the job.

The bigger of the two young men was desperately pushing at the door, but it would not budge. When his strength gave out, he slumped to the floor with a broken, despairing grin.

The other young man was thin and wore glasses. He shook like a leaf, yet still tried to shield one of the young women.

Courage, after all, often had nothing to do with strength.

By then, she had lost all reason and was screaming on instinct.

Supposedly, screaming was a product of human evolution. It served three main purposes: