I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

"But why did this guy suddenly go berserk? He started slaughtering everyone?"

Evan couldn't understand it.

He had too little information; it was like being deep in a fog, only able to see a small patch of ground beneath his feet, with the rest of him completely unknown.

thump.

While he was thinking, his right foot kicked a stone protruding from the road.

His body suddenly lurched forward, and he hurriedly stretched out his hands to brace himself against the ground. His palms scraped against the rough dirt and gravel, and they stung painfully.

Looking down, I saw it was right below his neck.

I don't know which carriage dropped a piece of triangular iron used in construction.

Half of it was buried in the soil, while the other half was sticking up into the sky, with the sharp edges at the break point as sharp as a knife.

If his hands don't support him, his entire weight plus inertia will cause his neck to slam directly onto that piece of triangle iron.

Ivan's pupils shrank to pinpoints.

He slowly rose to his feet, supporting himself on the ground, the bruises on his back protesting sharply with the movement.

His taut muscles pulled at his swollen, congested skin, and sweat seeped into every pore, making him grimace in pain.

"It hurts..."

After he regained his balance, he looked down at the piece of triangular iron with lingering fear.

Then his mind suddenly cleared.

"Wait a minute. I've had a lot of bad luck all day."

"What if that vampire isn't one of Pris's men?"

"Or perhaps he was originally one of Pris's men, but suddenly went out of control?"

The moment that thought popped into his head, Ivan's scalp tingled.

The curse of misfortune is still in effect.

An out-of-control vampire is the most deadly coincidence that misfortune can create.

His heightened senses made him instinctively turn around.

Five meters away.

A dark figure stood there, appearing silently and without warning, as if it had grown out of the ground.

His clothes, tattered from bullet holes, hung on his body, the strips of fabric fluttering gently in the night wind.

The pale skin had a sickly, almost fluorescent pallor under the moonlight.

The scarlet eyes had no pupils; the entire iris was burning.

The upper lip turned up, revealing two ridiculously long fangs, with a drop of dark liquid clinging to the tip, slowly stretching into a thin thread in the moonlight.

It's here...

Chapter 21: The Witcher, Hill Adolf

Holy crap!

This scene is like something out of a horror movie that has come to life.

Ivan's legs tensed instantly.

When Evan on Earth was seven or eight years old, he was dragged to watch a horror movie by the older kids next door, and that left him with a childhood trauma ever since.

The older children were excited watching the sex scenes between the men and women in the film.

He turned pale with fright at the sight of the skinned female ghost.

Even as an adult, I am still afraid of the dark and ghosts. I need to turn on the light when I go to the toilet at night, and I can only fall asleep if the wardrobe door is tightly closed.

This thing in front of me is a million times more real than any horror movie.

It stood five meters away, the moonlight shining on its face, and blood dripping from its fangs.

Evan felt a heat in his crotch.

He instinctively reached down and touched it.

It's wet.

The brain nerves damaged by the medication seem to have lost a connection in a certain aspect of emotional perception.

"So it was urine."

His voice was dry and monotone, carrying an absurd calm.

"That's right, a monster of this level isn't even worth making me sweat."

puff.

A very faint laugh came from a certain direction.

It doesn't sound like something a vampire would make.

The direction is wrong, and the distance is wrong too.

Before Evan could figure out the source of the laughter, the vampire in front of him moved.

Its speed was so fast that even with the Night Demon Potion's enhanced perception, its movements were still undetectable.

With a physique of 1.9, the reaction speed and dynamic vision are no different from those of an ordinary person when faced with this level of speed.

Ivan didn't even see how it moved.

One second it was five meters away.

The next second, a cold hand had already gripped his neck.

Click.

The five fingers tightened like hydraulic clamps, the fingertips embedding themselves into the muscles on the side of the neck, precisely locking the carotid artery.

Ivan grabbed the slender, pale claw with both hands and pried it off desperately.

His superhuman strength was concentrated in his ten fingers, causing the veins to bulge and his knuckles to turn white.

The other party did not move an inch.

It's like trying to pry open a steel pipe welded to the wall.

Ivan's face turned bright red, and his veins throbbed at his temples.

He gave up the pointless struggle and squeezed out a sentence with his voice, which had been distorted by being choked.

"Professor Pulis still needs me."

"Aren't you afraid he'll punish you?"

The fingers around her neck paused for a moment.

In that instant of hesitation, the force loosened slightly.

This one second of contact is enough.

The enhanced perception from the Night Demon Potion came into play at this moment.

Ivan's nostrils caught a scent, a smell emanating from the hand gripping his neck, a scent that carried the stench of blood and earth.

Sandalwood. Bergamot.

Professor Pris's perfume.

Before, whenever Priss sat opposite him in the cafeteria, this smell would always follow him.

He's smelled it so many times, he'd never mistake it.

This vampire is indeed one of Pris's people.

The hand let go.

Evan lost his balance and sat down heavily on the ground, coughing violently while clutching his neck with both hands.

The feeling of air rushing back into your lungs is like swallowing a mouthful of shards of glass—both painful and exhilarating.

Just then, in the moonlight, a figure suddenly appeared.

From Ivan's right, a slender silver silhouette swept past with incredible speed, the soles of her boots barely making a sound as they trod on the grass.

She stood in the open space beside Evan and the vampire, drew a silver-white longsword from her back, its blade gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

"Let go of that boy..."

Her voice was clear and dignified, carrying a deliberately crafted heroic air.

Then she paused.

"Ok?"

She discovered that the other party had already given up.

Ivan sat on the ground, clutching his neck, looking up at her and blinking.

The vampire stood three steps away, his scarlet eyes staring blankly at the woman who had suddenly appeared.

The silver-haired woman held her sword in a rather heroic stance, the tip pointing at the vampire's throat.

Three people, three directions, three expressions.

silence.

The November night wind blew from the hills, causing the woman's long silver hair to flutter to one side, and the wild grass rustled.

The lights of Bolton City twinkled in the night sky in the distance, like a scene from another world.

An awkward atmosphere froze in the moonlight.

Ivan didn't speak, silently observing.

The woman was quite beautiful in the moonlight.

She was about 1.7 meters tall, with a slender and strong figure. She wore a well-tailored gray leather armor, which was not worn much and looked relatively new.