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... his fingers gradually twisted, becoming slender and sharp.

Yes, this is normal development.

Now you quickly turn into a monster, kill me or I kill you, and one of us must die. Then it's over. The witcher thought nonchalantly, he didn't even bother to wipe the blood off the silver sword.

He was sore all over now, and after the adrenaline faded, a wave of intense exhaustion swept through his body, not to mention the **** toxin, his internal organs seemed like someone was on f ...

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Rakna was not normal. No, unmistakably not.

Whether it was his appearance, his personality, his abilities, his identity, nothing about him had ever been banal. Was it his choice?

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Would being picked by a glorified universal abductor calling itself a system bring something out of him?

Would he finally learn to breathe in the pool of blood that suffocated him? The Harvester does not sow, he only collects.

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