Chapter Eighty-One: The Witcher’s Quest Resumes

Several days had passed since Siegfried’s last visit, and the fervor surrounding Batman had faded with time. Among the upper echelons, there was now a consensus: if this elusive figure did not resurface, he might never be found again. Yet among the common folk, Batman had become a new totem, “the man who symbolizes freedom.” Children, innocent of the world’s complexities, affectionately called him “the Black Banana”—a nickname born not of malice, but of endearment, further entwining him with the public’s imagination. Humanity, after all, is ever inclined to believe what it wishes to believe.

Take Dandelion, for example, who lauded Batman as the very paragon of virtue, a dazzling beacon of liberty. He spoke of composing a subtle ballad to immortalize Batman’s daring escape, promising to dwell in particular on the “intense confrontation” between Batman and the beautiful princess, swearing not to disappoint his audience.

Angouleme, for her part, mocked the poet’s praise, accusing him of being nothing but a lovesick fool with a head full of lewd fantasies, eager to write nothing more than scandalous tales.

After donning her iron-studded leather armor, fastening her steel sword, and reinforcing the vulnerable spots as the captain had instructed, Angouleme glanced at the silent young man preparing beside her and gently offered reassurance. “Viktor, pay no mind to what people say. We both know none of it is true. We merely found ourselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. Soon enough, everyone will forget about it.”

Viktor cast her a sidelong glance. “If I truly cared about those rumors, I ought to silence the only witness—meaning you. But I’m not in any foul mood. I just can’t fathom how our well-planned act of heroism turned into such an absurd comedy. That’s why I’m worried tonight’s adventure might take a similar turn.”

“Captain, how could you say that? No one wanted things to unfold that way. Who could have guessed we’d round a corner and run into Princess Yarda? Besides, to eliminate the ‘Vampire Lady’ tonight, you’ve made all those bombs—Trembling Moon Dust, the Splendid Dancing Star, even the Wild Wasp’s Nest. And look at all this protective gear.” She lifted her arms and legs to display her neck and wrist guards. “You really should have more confidence in yourself.”

Seeing that Viktor remained unmoved, she stepped closer, placed her hands on his shoulders, and gazed into his blue eyes. “I often tease you that plans never keep up with change, but without your plans, we’d never survive long enough to even see change. I’ve served under three captains of the Hansa. The first isn’t worth mentioning—he was soon dangling from a noose. The second, old Geralt, was a master swordsman, but often lost in confusion and needed others to guide him. As for the third—Viktor—while you’ve never bested me in swordplay, when it truly matters, I know I could never defeat you. You always know what to do next, and following your lead feels safe.

So… have faith in yourself. I miss the old man, but you are the best captain I’ve ever known.”

After a moment’s silence, the boy gently moved her hands from his shoulders and patted her reassuringly. “Beating the first two was easy; they hardly counted as leaders. Still, thank you. Let’s go—the ‘Vampire Lady’ will surely fall to Mr. Corian’s meticulous plan!”

...

The two made their way to the trade district and quickly found the entrance to the sewer in a side alley. Viktor closed his eyes for a final check in his mind.

“Wait—where did he get the money?” Angouleme suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

Viktor opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I just saw Dandelion heading into that place with a few noble-looking types.” She pointed to an opulent and obviously expensive club in the distance.

“Probably someone’s treating him. He’s a famous bard—of course he’s popular. Forget about him.” With that, Viktor leapt into the sewer.

Hesitating only a moment, Angouleme followed. What she hadn’t had time to explain was that those nobles had all been seen at Princess Yarda’s side in recent days.

...

Navigating the labyrinthine sewers beneath Vizima, the retired Batman and Catwoman—now the Phantom Brigade—returned to the same dark entrance that had once consumed over a dozen commandos. The ventilation here was good, and as it wasn’t a main channel for residential wastewater, it made an ideal hideout.

Lighting a torch, Viktor could see Angouleme’s face had paled in the flickering glow. She knew he’d noticed, but neither spoke of it.

The witcher apprentice handed her a vial. “This is ‘Cat’—it’ll dilate your pupils so you can see in low light. From the shouts of those commandos before they died, the Vampire Lady’s first target is always the torch. So we drink the Cat beforehand—the firelight will sting a bit, so try to bear it.”

Without a word, Angouleme drank the modified Cat potion, followed by three others she knew well: Tawny Owl for stamina, Blizzard for reflexes, and Thunderbolt for strength.

“I don’t know how fast she is, so let’s brace for the worst.”

Angouleme remained silent while Viktor rambled on, each using their own way to ease the tension.

At last, he handed her the Vampire Oil. “Make sure to coat both the crossbow and your sword.” Then, from the oversized pack on his back, he began to pull out bear traps, one after another.

...

Masks on, the pair advanced cautiously, laying traps at every shadowy corner.

Soon they reached a spacious round chamber. Suddenly, Angouleme seized Viktor’s hand to halt him. As agreed, she was to sense any surge in danger—if she did, she would grab him, signaling that the Vampire Lady had detected their presence.

Viktor immediately raised the torch, eyes scanning the ground. He glimpsed bloodstains, then looked up at the high ceiling—perfect for climbing and ambush. Remembering the commando’s final screams of “Above!” it was clear this was where they’d been wiped out.

It wasn’t the best place for the Moon Dust to show its full effect, but the space and visibility allowed for other tactics.

Suddenly, both witcher apprentice and partner drew their swords in unison, the air thick with a predatory aura.

She emerged from the darkness at last—they saw her clearly.

She was tall, with long hair cascading over strong shoulders, a lithe waist, and a powerful, well-proportioned body—completely nude. Under the torchlight, only her beast-like gaze set her apart from a human; her face even bore a certain mature, wild beauty. Viktor was sure most men would definitely be tempted.

She regarded them with curiosity. Her “prey” neither panicked nor screamed, nor did they flee. They weren’t some hapless fools lured to their deaths by the promise of a sewer-born tryst.

For a moment, the Vampire Lady and the Phantom Brigade faced off across the chamber. Her patience quickly ran thin. She began to transform—her pupils turned blood-red, her beautiful face elongated, teeth jutted forth, and her sun-bronzed skin darkened and shriveled over coiling muscles.

In mere seconds, Viktor judged that while there would still be some with an appetite for the grotesque, he most certainly was not among them.

With a tilt of her head, she flashed a predatory grin that sent chills down their spines. Her form flickered and blurred in the torchlight.

“Now!” Viktor shouted.

Angouleme hurled the torch to draw her focus, and Viktor seized the chance to throw his finest creations: Trembling Moon Dust and the Splendid Dancing Star!