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

It was past nine o'clock at night when Evan deactivated his demon hunter form and walked back to Gooding Street side by side with Richard.

The streetlights cast a yellowish glow on the cobblestone pavement, and the street vendors were already packing up to go home.

The heat emanating from Richard's body, as if it were steaming from within, had finally dissipated.

His skin lost the reddish hue from the blood scalding it, returning to its normal sailor-like bronze complexion.

Ivan stopped in front of the corner grocery store and, with a heavy heart, slapped thirty cents onto the counter.

"A bottle of cola and a glass of beer."

The boss, a burly young man, took a glass bottle from the insulated blanket and poured Richard a large glass of frothy beer.

The two sat on an empty roadside bench, intending to finish their drinks before leaving.

On the way back, Evan recounted in detail how he was forcibly taken away, how he bit through the tentacles to administer the poison, how he was forcibly kissed to be given the drug, and how the whole thing was ended with a large rock.

Richard laughed more and more as he listened, and finally couldn't help but slap his thigh.

"As expected of the talent Hill discovered. He's a born hunter."

He raised his beer glass and made a toasting gesture towards Evan.

"With your strong drug resistance, you have a bright future ahead of you."

Evan chuckled and turned the soda bottle upside down towards himself.

"Senior, which government departments do we all work for?"

Richard paused as he was about to drink his beer, then turned to look at him.

"An official department? I never said we were an official department."

Ivan blinked.

"Didn't Master Hill say she was considered an official?"

Richard looked completely at ease.

"Oh, right! Hill is indeed an official."

"The library where she works is a government institution."

puff.

The soda that Evan had just drunk sprayed out of both nostrils at the same time, and the yellow liquid dripped down his chin and onto his shirt collar.

God's official identity.

Was this the kind of official status I was asking about?

"Senior brother."

Ivan wiped the soda off his face, grabbed Richard's strong shoulders, and looked at him with great disbelief.

"Don't tell me we're wild superhumans."

Richard cleared his throat.

"What does 'wild' mean?"

He took a big gulp of beer, foam clinging to the corner of his mouth.

"I belong to the community vigilance team. I can share crime intelligence with the authorities."

"They also provide regular training for our staff. Although there's no fixed salary, there are performance-based rewards."

He put down his beer glass and extended three thick fingers.

"A bounty of fifty dollars or more will be offered for the capture of a murderer."

"The big prize can be two hundred dollars. That's not less than what a dockworker earns in a year."

That sounds very dignified.

Ivan pursed his lips.

"At the end of the day, he's just an unemployed barber."

Barbers are a security group spontaneously formed by the local community in this era.

In this era and on this fertile land that could have nurtured the great sage and saintly teacher Ram, the city's security was extremely chaotic.

The government is short of money, and the police are understaffed and have poor treatment, leading to a lack of professionalism.

Robberies, murders, bank robberies happen every day.

Barber groups emerged as a result.

Because members often carry barber's razors when they are on watch or patrolling, they are called the "barber group" or "barber auxiliary police."

Their official names are usually something like the Community Vigilance Committee, Night Patrol, or Citizen Protection League.

Ironically, the relatively quiet Guding Street owes 70% of its tranquility to the Gus gang.

In order to minimize the cost of exploitation, these guys kept many destabilizing factors out of the neighborhood.

Richard coughed and looked at him seriously.

"Kid, don't worry too much about the official position."

"That's not a good location."

His tone was meaningful.

"The so-called official superhumans are not a bulwark protecting the people. They are slaves to maintaining rule and capital."

"Many accidents you know of are not caused by accidents, nor by monsters. Do you understand?"

"Sitting in this position, freedom and conscience no longer belong to you!"

Upon hearing this, Ivan remained silent for a few seconds.

What he has seen and heard in the past two weeks has given him a basic understanding of the world.

Upon hearing Richard's words again, the scattered pieces of the puzzle in my mind moved closer together.

"Understood."

He took another sip from the soda bottle.

"Their specialty isn't protecting civilians, but emptying magazines."

Richard grunted in agreement and continued drinking his beer.

"I know what you're worried about. Don't worry."

He placed the wine glass between the benches.

"Although we do not have an official status, our faction has a very deep alliance and cooperation with Miskatonic University."

"His public identity is that of an investigator at the University of Michigan. His rank is equivalent to that of a police detective."

"When I have time, I'll take you to get some identification, then you'll be able to legally own guns and conduct investigations."

Upon hearing this, Ivan's eye twitched slightly.

"An investigator from the University of Michigan...that's a very promising career."

He said it in an extremely complicated tone.

Although he hadn't read many Lovecraft books during his Earth-era days, he was very familiar with the name Miskatonic University.

A prestigious university that deals specifically with deep-sea monsters, Outer Gods, forbidden books, and the living dead.

Richard, oblivious to the underlying meaning in his words, put his arm around his shoulder and grinned.

"Right?"

"By the way, senior brother," Evan changed the subject.

"I heard from Brother Hong Si that the female assistant is an apprentice-level student. How come she has two extraordinary abilities? Don't normal apprentices only have one extraordinary ability?"

Richard waved his hand casually.

"It's not surprising that an apprentice has two characteristics. After all, mastering three is enough to become an expert."

"Besides, she only has one extraordinary characteristic, which is the mutation of flesh and blood."

Ivan was taken aback.

"Then her self-healing ability doesn't count?"

Richard shook his head.

"That's the Bloodthirsty race's class talent. It's a passive effect that you automatically gain once you successfully change your class to Bloodthirsty."

Ivan responded with an "oh".

"So what are the special talents for us Witchers?"

Richard coughed.

"Strictly speaking, it's poison resistance."

"???"

Evan opened his mouth wide, unsure of what to say.

In that instant, he finally understood why the profession of Witcher was despised as "lowlife" by the mainstream supernatural community.

The enemy's special abilities include superhuman self-healing, superhuman physical strength, and inability to be killed by conventional means.

As for my professional talent... it allows me to take some poison.

It's not immunity yet! Eating too much will still poison you!

Although his lineage has three basic abilities, two of them were obtained by absorbing the power of demons and sacrificing his own physical functions.

Memory and fertility.

Two major sacrifices were made in exchange for a brain tissue that can grow on its own and a bodily fluid enhancement that can make the ritual more stable.

The relatively universal demon hunter vision is more like an evolution of itself, sacrificing taste to gain improved vision.

Even if you combine all three talents, it still doesn't seem to be as practical as having a single super self-healing ability!

After all, if a Witcher is killed, he really dies!

Ivan gripped the soda bottle, tilted his head back, and finished the last sip, letting out a long sigh.

"Senior brother."

He leaned back on the bench, gazing wistfully at the pharmacy across the street that was about to close.

"Is it too late for me to back out now? I feel like becoming a Bloodthirsty Seed isn't so bad."

Richard laughed heartily and put his arm around his shoulder tightly.

"Too late! Once your career is decided, you can never change it!"

He laughed for a while, then his tone turned serious again.

"Don't be envious. Everything comes at a price."

"The bloodthirsty species' talent comes at the cost of being unable to see sunlight, being thirsty for blood, and other fatal weaknesses."

"The ritual silverware can severely injure them. The holy water of the sun can instantly kill them."

He raised his finger and gently tapped Ivan's chest.

"Remember this, kid. In the extraordinary world, there are no perfect extraordinary traits."

Evan nodded thoughtfully.

After finishing their drinks, the two chatted as they walked back to Evan's old apartment building.

As soon as I opened the door, a familiar smell, a mixture of damp wood and coal ash, wafted out.

"Please forgive the humble place, senior brother."

As Evan gathered the clothes on the chair to one side, he smiled apologetically.

Richard grinned and plopped down on the tattered canvas sofa in the living room without a care in the world.

"It's good enough to have a place to sleep. I often sleep under bridges."

As soon as he sat down, his eyes fell on the things on the table.

"Is this muddy bag yours?"

Ivan turned his head and his expression changed slightly.

That was his canvas schoolbag.

"Could it be Pris...?"

Evan's mind raced.

"This is my schoolbag. It was thrown into the alley during the fight."