Game in Marvel-Chapter 95

Vesemir wasted no time. With Geralt's help, he carefully began extracting samples—venom from the griffin's talons, a few feathers, and even some blood. The griffin snarled weakly but was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. Tony and Barton watched with interest, though Natasha kept her distance.

In the end, Vesemir took out his silver sword and cut the underbelly of the monster. This was enough to kill it while blood came out like a fountain. It screamed in pain, but Vesemir wasn't done as he went for the heart and the liver of the monster. This horrible scene made Barton look away while the other three didn't have comfortable looks on their faces.

The griffin didn't last long after that and died. Vesemir then proceeded cut of the head of the monster and give it to Tony.

"You should be able to earn some money and get the goodwill of the people if you deliver it to a garrison or just parade around. From the looks of it, you don't need money but one can't ever deny the goodwill of the people around." Vesemir said.

Tony was disgusted but Liam promptly came forward and took the griffin's head and kept it inside his space. Vesemir had seen Liam with this space magic before, but seeing him making the head disappear made him more surprised. He had never seen someone using space magic to keep things before.

Wait there was someone. Ciri, with her space and time magic. Does he know about her? Vesemir looked at Geralt and he too was thinking the same thing, but they couldn't just ask him directly. If they ask him, Liam might feel he was being accused of kidnapping her or take it the wrong way. Both of them still didn't understand what was up with this group, and didn't want to antagonize the group.

Yennefer was more important at the moment. Geralt turned to the merchant.

"You said you were heading somewhere."

"Y-Yes, that's right. I was going to the next town to sell my vegetables but I can't anymore." The merchant replied.

"Hmm.. I'm looking for someone," Geralt continued, "A sorceress. Powerful, likely traveling alone. Have you seen or heard of anyone like that passing through? Even a rumor?"

The merchant rubbed the back of his neck, frowning as he considered the question.

"Can't say I have. We don't get many travelers these days, not with the war and all. But... if anyone knows something, it'd be the innkeeper at the White Orchard Inn. She's always got her ear to the ground."

"The innkeeper, then. Thanks." Geralt nodded slightly.

"What's this about? You're looking for someone specific, lover?" Tony teased.

"It's personal," Geralt said bluntly, his tone making it clear he wouldn't elaborate.

"White Orchard sounds like a good place to regroup. From the sound of it, it's a proper village. Maybe we can get some horses there and then figure out our next steps." Steve said, trying to change the topic.

"Not a bad idea. It's not far from here." Vesemir suggested. Everyone looked at Liam, and gave the green signal. The merchant seemed to want to give some orens to Steve for saving him but he refused. Money wasn't their problem.

"Well, I guess it's settled, then. Road trip to White Orchard. Hopefully, it's not as bleak as it sounds." Tony said, as he missed just flying around.

"Don't get your hopes up," Vesemir muttered. The group set off toward White Orchard. The road to the village was quiet, with only the occasional rustle of leaves or distant bird calls breaking the silence. The griffin's absence had left the area eerily calm, though the group welcomed the reprieve.

The group reached White Orchard town. The cobblestone streets were quiet, and a few villagers moved about, tending to their evening tasks. But as Geralt and Vesemir walked through the heart of the settlement, it became apparent that their presence wasn't exactly welcomed.

Villagers stopped in their tracks, openly staring at the two witchers with looks ranging from fear to disdain.

"Bloody mutants, ain't they?" someone muttered under their breath.

"Bringin' trouble, no doubt," said another.

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A woman hurriedly pulled her child closer as Vesemir passed, and a group of men seated near a small cart exchanged uneasy glances.

The rest of the group—Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Liam—caught the stares but didn't comment, though Tony raised an eyebrow at one particularly nasty glare.

"They always this friendly?" he asked Geralt in a low voice.

"More or less," Geralt replied flatly.

Even inside the White Orchard Inn, the reception didn't improve much. Conversations hushed the moment the witchers stepped through the door, and patrons turned to glance at them with wary eyes. Some even moved a little farther away, as though proximity to the two might bring some kind of curse.

The innkeeper, however, didn't seem fazed, though her initial glance at the witchers lingered just a second too long before she turned to greet the group.

"Welcome," she said simply.

"Food for all of us," Vesemir said making the innkeeper blink.

"Aye, generous sorts, ye are. Won't see me complainin'."

"Fair payment for the trouble," Vesemir replied with a smirk. "We've been taking advantage of our companions here, and they've earned a proper meal."

As she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, the group moved to an empty table. The other patrons continued to steal furtive glances at the witchers, though no one dared approach or say anything outright.

Tony leaned over to Steve, his voice low.

"I get that Geralt and Vesemir are a little... intense, but the stares? Feels like we just walked into the middle of a bad western fantasy."

"We are in a western fantasy." Barton corrected them. Those two weren't the only ones who were getting stares. Their group was receiving end of it too. Especially at their gears. One could easily tell that they were rich, and this place which had been ravaged by the recent war and famine, the group was a walking gold.

Meanwhile, Liam walked up to the innkeeper.

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