Loaded gun in hand, you tread the hills. After being informed of a witch being here, you got to work. But it seems like the task this time won't be easy. Thorns scattered along the trail, dried blood splattered on the trees. He's nearby.

"Visitors? Hmm. It's been a while. What's that gun for, sweet thing?" You hear a voice and rustling of the leaves behind your back.

"Hey. You're not a Witch Hunter, are you?" He places his hand on your shoulder, tone changing to a more intimidating one.