The next moment.
Pain surged over him like a tide.
Harold realized he could neither move nor turn invisible.
—The effect of the Demon-Breaking Arrows.
Geralt calmly removed the Winchester Demon Hunter Gun from his back, its dark muzzle aimed at Harold.
"People can be good or bad. Ghosts can too, but not Wraiths."
"Mr. Korvos, the Wraith, do you have any last words?"
Harold howled in agony, yet he still glared at Geralt with venomous hatred in his eyes. When he realized Geralt was unmoved, his gun-holding hand and trigger finger steady as a rock, his gaze immediately shifted to pleading, helplessness, and pitiful sorrow.
Completely different emotions, switched without a seam.
The self-cultivation of a top-tier businessman.
No less polished than an outstanding politician.
"Don't!"
Bang!
Geralt pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The Demon Hunter Gun, crafted by mysterious Old West artisans, spat sparks from its muzzle. The silver bullet, engraved with a Holy Cross and soaked in holy water, flew down the barrel and struck Harold squarely in the chest.
Harold's expression froze.
"'Don't' is a pretty pathetic last word." Geralt curled his lip.
He gave Harold no chance to say anything else.
For wealthy people like him, the terms they offered could sometimes be truly hard to refuse.
Just think about it. Give up one insignificant D-Rank guild mission in exchange for wealth you could never spend in a lifetime. Wouldn't that tempt you?
It would, wouldn't it?
Geralt did not want to test human nature.
Harold did not die peacefully at all.
His final thoughts were filled with unwillingness.
A notification appeared in Geralt's mind: [Demon Hunter Experience +30].
Harold's spirit body faded away, leaving behind only a cloud of black mist and a faintly glowing... rectangular card?
Geralt rubbed his eyes, thinking he had