Yennefer's words were like a basin of cold water, instantly extinguishing everyone's happiness in surviving the disaster. The air seemed to freeze. The warlocks looked at each other, and the remaining fear on their faces was quickly replaced by shame and disbelief. They looked around each other, and then looked at what was hidden in the dead silence. The murderous village--Yennefer is right. Without the wall built by Yavi with swords and Signs, they would have become dead souls under the claws of Bruxa.
However... a deeper sense of powerlessness gripped them. Some people tried to mobilize magic power, but only a few weak sparks burst out from their fingertips and were extinguished. The thin magic particles in the air could no longer condense and form, like springs that had been completely sucked dry. Without the magic they relied on for survival, what difference did they, the warlocks who usually made the most of the wind and rain, have at this moment from the unarmed civilians?
Everyone stood frozen on the spot and fell into a dead silence. Their eyes couldn't help but focus on the team leader Red with heavy expectations and confusion.
Red felt an indescribable weight suddenly pressing on his shoulders, almost suffocating him. Yavi... That demon hunter exchanged himself for the lives of all of them. This kindness is as heavy as a mountain. But the reality is cold and biting - they are a group of useless people now! With their magic power exhausted and exhausted, turning back for rescue is tantamount to death! Going back? It is a sacrifice in vain. Not going back? Watching your savior die alone?
The pain and guilt caused by these two choices were like two poisonous snakes biting his heart. Red's face became extremely ugly, his teeth were clenched, and the veins on his forehead were throbbing, and he fell into an unprecedented and almost devastating tangle.
The torment in Red's heart was like a boiling oil pot, and the pain caused by the two choices almost tore him apart. At this moment, the heart-stopping sound of fierce fighting coming from the depths of the village gradually faded away. The density of the screams and black shadows in the sky became visibly sparse, and finally, it eerily returned to a dead silence.
Everyone's hearts were in their throats, and their eyes were fixed on the dark village entrance that swallowed up Yavi.
Suddenly, a staggering but still upright figure slowly walked out of the shadows filled with the smell of blood. The sunlight outlined his bloody outline - the dark leather armor was almost soaked with solidified and fresh blood, and his whole body exuded a strong aura of death.
"Yavi!" Yennefer was the first to recognize it, her voice trembling with disbelief and ecstasy of relief. She rushed over like an arrow, completely ignoring the mud under her feet.
Rushing forward, the strong smell of blood almost made her suffocate. Yennefer did not hesitate at all, her hands flew up and she recited a mantra quickly. A soft but strong magic wave passed by Yavi's body - Cleaning Spell's light washed over him like water waves, quickly peeling off and evaporating the thick, disgusting blood scabs and filth on his body. The face and leather armor originally covered with plasma were revealed again.
Yennefer's heart was not completely relieved. She reached out eagerly to check Yavi's injuries. Her eyes swept over his chest, back, and shoulders - she saw that the tough School of the Wolf leather armor was covered with several deep tears and claw marks, and the edges were even slightly rolled, obviously having withstood the terrible attack force.
However... when her fingers touched the skin under the damaged leather armor, the touch from her fingertips was smooth and tough! The expected open wounds did not appear, only a few very shallow, almost negligible white marks, as if they had just been rubbed with rough sandpaper. Yennefer was stunned. She didn't know that for a demon hunter who had experienced Trial of the Grasses and had a self-healing ability far beyond that of ordinary people, these seemingly dangerous skin wounds had quietly closed under the strong recovery power in the moment the battle ended.
"I'm fine." Yavi's voice was low and slightly hoarse, revealing the exhaustion after the battle, but unusually smooth. He gently brushed away Yennefer's concerned hand that was still on his shoulder to reassure her.
Then, Yavi took steps towards the group of members of the Warlock team who were still standing frozen outside the village, with shock, shame and disbelief on their faces. Every step he took was heavy after the battle, and his boots made a muffled sound when he stepped on the ground. Everyone's eyes were focused on him as if they were real, and the air condensed. It was so heavy that he could hardly breathe. Especially Red. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His face was burning, his eyes were evasive, and he wanted to find a crack in the ground to crawl in - leaving his savior to face the desperate situation alone, but he was helpless. This feeling of shame made him more uncomfortable than any attack.
Yavi walked directly in front of Red and stopped. He did not blame or be angry. He just stretched out the hand that had just killed countless monsters and patted Red's tense shoulder heavily, but with a hint of understanding.
"It doesn't have to be like this," Yavi's voice was not high, but it reached everyone's ears clearly, with the unique, almost cold pragmatism of a demon hunter, "It's not your fault. When the magic power is exhausted, you are no different from ordinary people. Stay there..." He paused and glanced at everyone, "In addition to increasing casualties, it will only distract me from protecting and cause more trouble."
His last words, like a precise key, instantly unlocked the heavy shackles of guilt in Red's heart. They were not blaming, but stating a cold fact - their departure was the greatest help to him.
After saying that, Yavi stopped staying, or even glanced at the complicated expressions of everyone, and turned towards the temporary camp on the hillside, walking with a steady and tired pace. His back was long in the sun, and the leather armor covered with claw marks silently told the story of the tragic battle he had just experienced.
Yavi Dragging their exhausted bodies, the group finally returned to the simple but safe temporary camp on the high ground.
The village chief Brand had been waiting anxiously by the campfire for a long time, like an ant on a hot pot. When he saw the warlocks and his villagers appearing one after another, his old face full of grooves relaxed instantly, and he let out a long breath, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.
"It's good to be back safely! It's good to be back safely!" Brand rubbed his hands, his voice trembling with relief, and greeted quickly, "Quick, take a rest! Everyone must be exhausted! The food is already being cooked and will be hot soon. Sir, just wait a moment!"
Red didn't say much, just nodded slightly. He glanced around and found a relatively flat open space on the edge of the camp. He saw an inconspicuous light on the wrist of his left hand - with a seemingly casual wave of his hand, two solid, A simple oak chair appeared out of thin air and landed firmly on the ground. He sat down first, leaning his back against the cold back of the chair, letting out an imperceptible sigh full of exhaustion, and then motioned for Yennefer to sit down and rest as well.
The camp was filled with relaxation and silence after the tension, with only the crackle of the campfire and the low voices of villagers talking in the distance. After a while, a not-so-appealing aroma mixed with firewood smoke and the original smell of food floated over.