The Creators: From Night City

Page 396

Even the crow itself couldn't remember.

"Hunter, you're a hunter, aren't you?"

The fleeing woman, bathed in the glow of the setting sun, spotted the crow standing at the alley entrance and cried out in delight.

Bathed in the setting sun, the crows could finally use their sight to identify the newcomers, instead of relying on their sense of smell, hearing, or taste.

This long-lost experience made her feel somewhat novel.

The woman who was fleeing for her life was about 30 years old. She was quite plump and did not look like a Yharnam person. She was wearing a loose linen gray dress and looked like an ordinary person.

The crow continued to observe more closely.

Her eyes were hidden behind the mask's lenses, and in just a few glances, she carefully observed the other person's facial features, hands, teeth, and eyes.

The face is hairless, which is good.

The palm has five fingers, which are not fused together, are not deformed, and have normal nail length; all are in good condition.

The teeth are not protruding or deformed; they are in good condition.

The eyes are clear, the pupils are normal, and the number of irises is not excessive, which is good.

This is a normal person.

"Stand behind me," the crow said softly, stepping forward.

The woman felt as if she had been granted a pardon; she almost burst into tears. With her last bit of strength, she leaped over the crows, collapsed to the ground, and gasped for breath.

As the two passed each other, Crow's senses, enhanced countless times by 'blood therapy,' did not detect the familiar fishy stench from the other, nor did she hear any unusual noises from the other's trachea, which reassured her considerably.

However, this does not necessarily mean that the other person is normal. After all, these indicators only show that the other person is physically normal, and their mental health is unknown.

And the body is normal only at this moment; the future is unknown.

In this crazy and chaotic world, it is extremely difficult to determine whether a 'person' is a normal person.

On the contrary, it is all too easy to determine whether a person is terminally ill.

For example, the pursuers behind the woman.

Judging from their overall outline, they are still 'people'.

But if you look closely, you'll find that the exposed palms, necks, and faces of these gentlemen in overcoats and top hats are covered with a layer of wild and thick hair.

These hairs were very rough, dry and unkempt, like tangled thatch, but even more like the bristling fur of wild beasts.

In fact, this is the fur of a wild animal.

They are 'beast-like patients'.

"Blood, give me blood!"

The four 'patients' seemed terrified of the strangely dressed crow in front of them, as if some terrifying idea still lingered in their faint consciousness, making them hesitate to move forward.

But their thirst for blood quickly drove them into a frenzy, making them mad like wild beasts.

The lead pursuer howled and raised his sharp axe, its rough cast iron surface stained with blood, just like the bandage wrapped around his hand.

Give me blood!

The 'patient' let out a beast-like roar, and the sharp axe in his hand, driven by his thin arms, chopped with a terrifying sound, heading straight for the hunter's neck.

But even the fiercest attack has to hit a person to be effective.

The crow suddenly took flight, its cloak of raven feathers flapping as if it were a real crow, dodging the opponent's slash and revealing a glint of cold light hidden beneath its 'wings'.

Chapter 812 The Meteor Outside the Town

The Blade of Mercy is one of the oldest hunter weapons.

The blade, forged from blue quartz, is incredibly sharp, giving this lightweight weapon considerable lethality.

The crescent-shaped tip can easily hook onto flesh and tear the body, achieving the purpose of thorough bloodletting.

In Yharnam, blood is always at the heart of everything.

As the man and the beast clashed, the Blade of Mercy was already pressed against the other's neck. With the flapping of the 'Raven's' wings, its equally slender yet powerful arm lashed out, the hook tearing apart most of the other's neck along with the artery.

The foul-smelling blood gushed out immediately.

A rusty iron spear thrust at the 'raven', but the hunter dodged it by tilting his head.

She moved at high speed, like a real crow flying through the forest.

She used the nimble blade as if it were an axe, slamming it heavily into the enemy's chest, and with the force of her forward charge, she ripped open his stomach.

Blood and internal organs immediately flowed onto the ground.

But the remaining enemies continued their frenzied attack, wielding machetes and axes haphazardly, which severely limited her room to dodge.

The next moment, the 'crow' seemed to have truly transformed into a bird.

Amidst the swirling crow feathers, she suddenly transformed into a high-speed afterimage, slipping through the gap between the two beast-like patients and stopping behind them.

The Blade of Mercy had somehow been split into two thinner blades.

Thick, foul-smelling blood gushed from the enemy's chest cavity, soaking the ground.

In the brief moment of passing, the crow's blade had already slashed diagonally, creating a huge gash in the torso of the two enemies.

The gash was so large it almost cleaved the other person in two, and the wound's path included a large number of arteries, from which blood was now flowing uncontrollably.

Regardless of the weapons and techniques used, the hunters of Yharnam always strive to cause their prey to lose a large amount of blood in a short period of time.

This is not only because blood is very important in Yharnam, but also because most of their prey are exceptionally resilient. Severed limbs and open wounds are not fatal, and there have been many monster crows that can survive even after their heads have been cut off.

Only bloodletting, through the drastic loss of bodily fluids, can temporarily kill them.

If the monster with its carotid artery ripped open had suffered such an injury, it would have been certain death on a normal person. But at this moment, it simply covered its wound with its hand and was still able to charge forward while roaring angrily.

It was met with a pistol.

Hunters in Yharnam are generally armed with guns. Although these old-fashioned flintlock guns are not very powerful, their main purpose is to fire the accompanying mercury bullets into the enemy's body, using mercury to interfere with the enemy's blood circulation and thus weaken them.

But no matter what, it is still a gun.

"Oh!"

The specially made gunpowder made the sound of the gunshot as low and muffled as possible, and the sharp bullet penetrated the deformed skull of the opponent and shattered inside the brain.

The highly toxic mercury, mixed with the crow's own blood, completely infected the opponent's brain. Under this attack, the opponent's frenzied offensive immediately stopped, and it collapsed to the ground.

As the blood on the ground gradually spread, the remaining monsters also fell silent.

"Thank you so much for saving my life. I'm Vera."

"Outsider?" The crow didn't reveal its name, but asked bluntly.

"Yes," Vera replied hesitantly.

How did you know?

"After all, only outsiders who don't know the rules would dare to go out at dusk, because the 'Night of the Hunt' could come at any time."

"Um..." Vera looked at the other person's strange bird-beak mask, hesitating to speak.

"What's wrong?" The crow's keen senses allowed her to immediately detect the other party's unusual behavior.

“It’s already late at night, hunter. The ‘Night of the Hunt’ has long since begun.”

Such a frenzied reply made Crow involuntarily tighten his grip on the hilt of his knife; the other party seemed to be somewhat mentally unstable.

“If you don’t believe me, you can look up,” Vera said, pointing her finger upwards.

The crow cautiously looked up, only to be startled to see the night sky hanging low overhead, stars twinkling, and an enormous, full moon high in the sky.

"How is this possible?!"

The crow was so shocked it was almost speechless.

"Then where does this sunlight come from? Yes, from the sun?"

Vera was equally incredulous when she spoke of the light that illuminated the entirety of Yharnam.

"It wasn't the sun, it was a shooting star, a shooting star that shone with endless light. It fell into the forest outside the town and is still shining now."

Vera pointed in the direction of the southern forest.

The complex architecture of Yanan blocked the crow's view, so she could only try to find a location with a wide field of vision to verify whether what the other party was saying was just madness.

Vera followed silently.

The buildings in Yanan are not like those in ordinary cities, which are straight and horizontal. Instead, they are more like a three-dimensional city built on the mountainside.

A house might lead to a road if you turn left, or to a huge drop if you turn right. Behind the railing might be someone else's roof or a deep drainage ditch.

This place is like Chongqing during the Victorian era.

The crow climbed to the roof of a two-story building without much effort. Grabbing the spikes on the roof, she looked towards the forbidden forest in the south and, sure enough, saw the meteorite that Vera had mentioned.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it a miniature sun.

Endless golden light burst forth from where the meteorite fell, shooting straight into the sky. The scattered light not only tore the night sky to shreds but also illuminated the entire Yharnam as bright as day.

"What...what is this?!"

The crow was quite certain that she had never seen this thing in her countless reincarnations.

'Could it be a new ruler?' the crow murmured in surprise.

"What are you saying, Lady Hunter?" Vera asked, not having heard the raven's words clearly.

"It's none of your business, and you'd better not know about this. You know, sometimes ignorance is bliss," the crow replied coldly.

“Since you know it’s ‘Night of the Hunt,’ why do you still dare to go out? Even if you’re a stranger, you should know about Yharnam’s taboos.”

“I want to go find my husband. He… has been away for work for too long, and I’m worried about him.”

"Is your husband also a hunter?" the crow asked.

"Yes, his name is Gascoigne, and he's often dressed as a priest. Do you know him?"

The reply of "I don't know" regarding the crow remained cold.

"It may be presumptuous of me, but I would like to ask if you could take me to the central area of ​​Yanan. My husband has been sent there by the Healing Church, and I am very worried about him," Vera asked apologetically.

"I'm busy," the crow said, swooping down from the roof with the grace of a real crow.

She squinted at the direction of the Forbidden Forest, her whole being already restless and ready to go.

New changes are not always a bad thing. In this seemingly unchanging world, new changes may represent new dangers, but they also represent new opportunities.

Vera was quite disappointed, but she still bowed politely to express her gratitude, seemingly prepared to continue her journey alone.

If this were truly a 'Night of the Hunt,' the entire Yharnam would be teeming with 'beasts.' If it weren't for the light brought by that meteorite, the person would probably have been 'preyed upon' by the beasts lurking in the shadows of the street corners as soon as they stepped out of their house.

The raven wasn't heartless; she simply already knew what would become of Father Gascoigne.

She had dealt with the other party too many times, and the outcomes were always less than satisfactory.

But gazing at the light that illuminated the world, she suddenly realized something.

The arrival of this meteorite has brought about new changes; at the very least, the woman named Vera in front of us did not die prematurely in the night.

Will the fate of that old hunter also take a turn for the worse?

"Wait, I'll go with you," the crow suddenly called out, stopping Vera.

Chapter 813 The Village in the Forbidden Forest

Yharnam is a new city.

But the city seems to have been eroded beyond recognition by the power of time.

Central Asia, Otton Cemetery.

Father Gascoigne was breathing heavily, struggling.

Unlike the crow, he was a robust male hunter whose weapons and fighting style were more straightforward and aggressive.

He swung the long-handled axe, which was as tall as a person, into a full moon shape. Thanks to the sudden light, he was able to easily and accurately chop the axe blade onto the forehead of a werewolf.

boom!