THE DIVINE HUNTER

by Kideo11

Luo Yi, a high school dropout in his original world, was isekai'd into the world of the Witcher 3. Starting out as a weak boy named Roy in the village of Kaer, Lower Posada, he was determined to grow stronger, no matter what it took. The first step toward becoming a legend was to kill. And his first kill was… a rooster. 'You gain 1 EXP.' Of course, Roy had his own cheat system

1. Chapter 001 - 100

Chapter 1

"Did you hear? A horse crashed into Moore's kid."

"Poor child. He's only thirteen, isn't he? I think he's bedridden for life."

"That's old news. Roy's woken up, but something's wrong with his head. He keeps spacing out in the yard."

The farmers on the field whispered about the tragedy that befell a boy named Roy. A burly man behind them quietly put his hoe down and clenched his fists. He was infuriated, frustrated, but also helpless.

The man was Moore, the one the farmers were talking about, and also Roy's father. He was just a lowly peasant like everyone else, and he had toiled on the fields for half his life. He wasn't handsome, capable, or rich. Nobody had wanted to marry him, until his wife had come along and done so despite his flaws. He was twenty-three then.

The couple had a child when they were twenty-five. In their time and age, most people were already parents when they were sixteen. Having a child at twenty-five meant they were behind their peers. They cared about Roy tremendously, and worried he might get hurt. Because of that, he seldom worked in the fields.

Roy was a quiet one. He listened to his parents, kept to himself, and always had a sheepish smile on his face. He was a stark contrast to the wild children who stampeded the village every chance they could.

"Roy's a good child. Such a pity…"

The thought of Roy's condition tore into Moore's wound further. They'd thought they would live a happy and peaceful life with their son forever, but alas, it was cut short. Four days ago, a woman blazed through the village on horseback, and Roy was in her way. The horse only grazed him, but that single graze took him out.

The village's unskilled herbalist failed to find out what was wrong with Roy, and he thought the boy was done for. The next day though, as if by miracle, Roy woke up. However, he was a changed boy. His eyes were dead, and he was quiet, not answering when spoken to. All he did was stare into the sky like a person who had lost their mind.

Moore sighed. It was getting late, and he picked up his hoe before going back home. He was still worried about his son.

The villagers' houses were primitive and ugly, made out of thatch and wood. A single gale could have blown the rickety buildings away. Kaer was a small village, housing about a hundred families.

Moore's house was situated on the western side of the village. It was high noon when Moore came back, and the sun glared at them without any mercy. Despite that, a young child stared back into the sun, eyes unblinking, as if he were a soulless puppet. Beside him stood a plain, rough-skinned village lady who was feeding the chickens.

"Why is he staring into the sun? What if he hurts his eyes? Susie! I thought I told you to keep an eye on him. Don't you know this is bad for him?"

Moore rushed into his yard and waded through the overgrown weed to pick up his son. He placed Roy before the front door and patted his buzz cut-trimmed hair.

A hint of tenderness blossomed on Moore's dry, yellowed face. "Never do that again, Roy. Okay?"

Roy wouldn't respond to anyone or anything after waking up a while ago, but when Moore called him again, something flickered within him, and his eyes started clearing up. "Huh? Dad? Luo Yi… No, Roy," he mumbled. "Right. My name is now Roy."

"D-Did you just talk, Roy?" Surprised, Moore huddled closer to Roy, intending to confirm he was talking. Finally, he got his answer. His son, who had been quiet for the past three days, had started to speak again. At least he didn't turn mute.

"Come here, Susie! Leave the animals alone! Roy just talked!" Moore shouted, and Susie came a moment later, obviously in a hurry.

The couple hugged Roy, and when he called out their names, tears streamed down their faces. Roy looked at his parents, Moore and Susie, closely. They weren't exactly good looking, but they weren't ugly either. Their clothes were made out of hemp, and they looked worn out. Their skin was rough, and they looked gaunt from overworking. They had the feel of two innocent, welcoming villagers.

"So they're my parents." Tears welled up in Roy's eyes, and something tugged at his heartstrings. He hugged his parents back.

At the same time, two different sets of memories fused within him. Before Roy, he was Luo Yi, a high school dropout in C Nation. At the same time, Roy was living in Kaer, a village in Lower Posada, the southern border of a nation called Aedirn.

Luo Yi's parents died in a freak accident, and he quit school after their deaths. He was a shut-in who became addicted to the world of games. Once he would use up all the compensation fees, Luo Yi would kill himself. He had no parents, no car, no money, and was a game addict. That was effectively a death sentence in his original society.

On the other hand, Roy might've only been the child of lowly, impoverished peasants, but his parents loved him. Luo Yi longed for that kind of relationship.

"I got addicted to games just so I could fill the void in my heart. And now I have a second chance to do so. The gods are smiling on me." Luo Yi inherited all of Roy's feelings and memories, which made him feel close to Moore and Susie.

"What happened to you, Roy?" Susie asked. "You scared us!"

"T-The horse shocked me. All I could remember was how afraid I was. I don't know what happened."

"Stop with the questions!" Moore roared at his wife. "All that matters is that Roy is okay. That's all that matters." He patted Roy's head lovingly.

After calming his worried parents down, Roy looked around his new abode, and a bitter smile painted on his face. The walls were uneven and rickety, the house only having a fireplace, a steel cauldron, a few tables and chairs, and two sets of beds ?— if anyone could call a stack of hay covered by pieces of worn out cloth a bed.

Lunch was made in a short while. A few dry, hard, disfigured loaves of bread, an egg, two dried fish, and a bowl of assorted vegetable soup were laid out before him. The food was plain enough, and there was no seasoning. Salt was a luxury in the household.

Roy thought the food was weird, but despite it, he took a bite. "Don't complain, Roy. You didn't get to eat organic greens like this in your past life."

Because of his body's instincts, Roy accepted the food's taste not long after he took his first bite. Famished after days of not eating, his hunger prompted him to wolf down the food. A short while later, the scarce meal became scarcer.

"Slow down, son. You don't want to choke on the food."

The couple stared at their son with a grin. They kept piling the food in his plate, but they didn't touch the food themselves, though they'd pop some dried fish into their mouths once in a while.

Moore and Susie left the house in the afternoon after deciding they would butcher a chicken for Roy that night. And then Roy's expression turned serious.

Aedirn. How familiar. Roy used to play "The Witcher 3" for many hours, and the name "Aedirn" was no stranger to him. It was one of The Four Kingdoms. This was a world of witchers and monsters. Bandits, monsters, plagues, and disasters were commonplace in the world and era Roy was in. Humans struggled to stay alive, clawing at the chance to live for even a day longer.

If I have no power, I could die at any time.

According to Roy's original memories, he was in the year 1260. If the lore was right, the talented king of Nilfgaard, the White Flame, Emhyr var Emreis, would launch the first Northern War in three years. Even though the war would start in Cintra ?— a faraway nation in the west of Lower Posada ?— the soldiers might escape to their region, and chaos would follow.

And in seven years, in 1267, the second Northern War would swing into motion, and Aedirn would not survive it.

Do I have any power? What should I do? I must at least keep Moore and Susie safe. Even though he was only thirteen, Roy didn't have much time on his hands if he wanted to save his parents. Fortunately, he didn't cross into this world without anything to help him. Like many otherworlders, he had his own cheat to help him on his quest.

Chapter 2

Open my character sheet, Roy thought, and a slew of weird messages flooded his mind.

'Character Sheet:

Roy

Age: Thirteen years and seven months old

Gender: Male (This detail will not be shown in the future)

Status: Civilian

(You are the child of a farmer. Up until now, you have received no professional training, nor have you studied in any field. You have not mastered any skills yet, and your talent is still hidden.)

HP: 40 (Healthy)

Strength: 4 (5). Strength decides the attack power of some physical attacks. Increases the weight you can carry, enabling you to wear heavier but stronger protective gear, as well as using heavier weapons. Affects your endurance to an extent.

Dexterity: 5 (5). Dexterity decides your movement speed, attack speed, reflexes, and balance. High dexterity enables you to dodge, react to, and block attacks. Also allows you to perform difficult movements.

Constitution: 4 (5). As a base for your endurance, constitution decides how many hits you can take, your run speed, and your battle prowess. Affects life regeneration to an extent.

Perception: 5 (5). Perception includes your five senses. You have a chance to predict incoming danger, as well as increase your efficiency in assessing your surroundings. Perception increases your chances of finding buried treasure. Someone with higher perception also has a better chance of sensing incoming danger. They can notice the secrets hidden in the void as well.

Will: 4 (5). Will decides your resistance against mental attacks and your recovery speed from psychological debuffs, such as pain and sadness. The higher your will, the calmer you can stay in dangerous situations, leading to a perfect execution of your movements. If your will is great enough, you will be able to affect physical objects.

Charisma: 5 (5). Your looks, aura, and speech skills factor into deciding your charisma. Charisma plays a role in communicating with the same species. High charisma can win someone's affection easily, and those from your species will be invariably drawn to you.

Spirit: 6 (5). Spirit decides the level of your concentration, making you focus on the task ahead of you. Can also increase your absorption rate, amount of acceptance, and control over the four elements, which is also known as chaos energy. Affects the strength of spells and pseudo spells.

PR/N: From what we've understood, (5) refers to a healthy adult. So 4 (5) means slightly below a healthy adult, 5 (5) means the same level as a healthy adult, and 6 (5) means better than a healthy adult.

Skill: None

Inventory space: 1 cubic meter

Misc.: Unknown

EXP: 1/100 (Once the EXP bar is filled out, you may level up. Each level shall grant you one attribute point and one skill point.)'

The character sheet was Roy's cheat in this world. Thanks to it, he stayed under the sun for three days, for absorbing its energy would help him clear his confused state. At the same time, he gained one EXP from staying under the sun.

"So the sun gives me 0.33 EXP per day. In that case, staying under it for 333 days would fill my EXP bar and level me up." Roy calmed down. Staying under the sun to level up was a stupid idea, but it was the safest way to do so.

Hm, if the sun can grant me EXP, can the food here do the same? That was a nice idea, but unfeasible in reality. Roy only had enough food to stave off starvation and keep him healthy. The energy in it wasn't enough to be converted into EXP. "So if I want to increase my stats, I'll have to find a way to earn some crowns and fill my belly."

A/N: Crowns are the currency of the game. The only currency in the northern kingdoms are Temeria orens, alternatively known as orens, while Aedirn's currencies are ducats and marks. That'd make the exchange rate too confusing, so from now on, we'll be using crowns and orens. The exchange rate for the currency is one to one.

If he could make enough crowns, Roy could even hire mercenaries or reputable witchers to escort his parents as they left for the city of freedom, Novigrad, located in Redania, which was northwest of their village. Redania was involved in the Northern Wars, but the nation wasn't affected. At least the civilians could live their lives out there in peace.

"Money aside, I have to see if there's any other way to gain EXP."

Considering the game and Roy's experience with it, killing monsters would be the most likely way to gain EXP, and the world of "The Witcher" was filled with all kinds of creatures. If he were to wander around in the wilderness beyond the village or rivers around it, he might just bump into a drowner if he was unlucky.

Roy was just a frail, feeble boy who had no combat prowess. If he were to go out and hunt, he'd be torn to pieces by the dogs and wolves on the way. Then he'd have died for nothing.

Obviously, he couldn't respawn in this world, unlike in the game. "I have to be careful. Legends start from the unlikeliest of places. I should start with a smaller creature."

He went into the yard and threw a glance at the big, white goat that stood out from the rest of the animals. No. That goat can provide milk, and it's too big for me to handle. He gave up on killing the goat, and a few roosters leaped happily in front of him. Roy gritted his teeth and went back in to grab a knife. "Dad's going to kill one tonight for me anyway. Why don't I do it myself?"

Roy set his murderous gaze on a big, fat, grey rooster. Noticing the impending danger, the rooster crowed shrilly and leaped around the coop, trying to escape murder.

If anyone were to pass by, they'd come across a hilarious scene: a scrawny young man chasing after a majestic grey rooster. The creature continued cawing and running for his life, while the boy wouldn't stop pursuing it.

Roy kept falling and getting up, unwilling to give up. When he was already drenched in sweat, and his legs turned to jelly, he finally caught the rooster's wings. Roy held the knife under its neck, but he didn't make the kill.

"I haven't even killed anything up until now. Not even a chicken. Didn't expect my first kill in life to be a big, stupid rooster."

That reminded him of the legendary witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Geralt had many titles, some of which included "The White Wolf", "The Butcher of Blaviken", and "The Giant Slayer". Roy thought those titles were cool and menacing.

"Nobody can know of this. What if I become a legend someday, and the bard calls me "The Rooster Slayer"? That'd be dumb."

That thought made Roy pick up the pace. He made a clumsy slash across the rooster's neck, and blood spurted into the sky. Some of it even splashed onto his face.

At the same time, the rooster extended its claws and crowed for the final time in its life. A short while later, it lay on the ground, convulsing and taking its last breath as Roy grinned.

2/100! It worked! "I knew it! This works!"

He was glad that nobody saw him kill the rooster, but then a panicked scream reached him, "By the gods! R-Roy the fool's possessed by a monster! He killed his family's chicken!" A snotty, eight-year-old brat had a horrified expression on his face as he shouted out the "murder" of the rooster. Roy swore the whole village could have heard his scream. He was just like the screaming groundhog meme Roy saw in his past life. 𝓫ℯ𝓭𝓃𝓸𝓋ℯ𝓁．𝓬𝓸𝓂

The boy's appearance made Roy's eyes shine, and he was obviously not concerned with the accusation the boy made. That boy's Brandon, the son of the butcher.

As the official butcher for a backwater village like Kaer, every villager had to ask for his help whenever they needed to slaughter their livestock. "If I manage to become the butcher's apprentice, I'd have loads of EXP to gain."

Chapter 3

The village's streets were uneven, rugged, and trodden, with puddles of water that could be seen all across them, glimmering under the sun. A young man and child were going toward Fletcher the butcher's house on the northern side of the village.

If Roy remembered correctly, Fletcher was Susie's distant relative, and they'd visit each other occasionally. Maybe this can work.

"Hah! Look at you, Rooster Slayer. You're scrawny and weak. Even a bat's larger than you. You want to be my father's apprentice? Go home and stare at the sun like you always do," Brandon derided, sucking the snot that was drooling down to his lip.

Roy trailed behind Brandon. The boy was barely four feet tall, while Roy was about five feet, four inches. As he looked down at Brandon's bob cut, Roy pressed down on the strands of hair that stood out to flatten them down. Before Brandon could look back, Roy pulled his hand away.

PR/N: Four feet is around 1.22 meters. Five feet, four inches is around 1.63 meters.

Well, that's the spot.

He was an eighteen-year-old man in his past life, so Roy thought there was no need to argue with a brat. He shrugged, looking nonchalant. "I'm already thirteen. So what if I killed a chicken? Only bumpkin brats like you would get scared. Rooster Slayer? That's a dumb name. Where did you come up with it? In dummy land?"

"You're a fool who can't even toil the field, and yet you can kill a chicken? Obviously, you're possessed by a demon, so I'll have to keep monitoring you closely. Wait, did you just call me a bumpkin?" Brandon wiped the snot off his lips with his fat, dirty hands, before wiping his fingers on his clean shirt.

Brandon's financial standing was better than most families in the village, thanks to him being the butcher's son. He never starved, and his clothes were always clean. Even though he was a young child, his peers were nothing but his sycophants. Because of that, he had a superiority complex since he was young, and he tolerated no insult toward his person.

"Hey, bumpkin! My father saw Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia at the winter solstice festival. and he told me about that grand event every night! You've never even stepped out of this village, and you call me a bumpkin?"

"Oh, so you're saying that Uncle Fletcher brags to you every night, huh? Has he ever told you about magic tricks then?" Roy observed Brandon's expression calmly. When he heard about magic tricks, Brandon's eyes shone, and they filled with longing and admiration as he blabbered about it.

Roy was relieved to see Brandon's interest in tricks. He stopped in his tracks and puffed out his chest. "If you can convince Uncle Fletcher to take me as his apprentice, then I, the great Roy, will show you one magical trick."

"Yeah, tell that to Don Quixote's kid, maybe that'll work. I won't be… fooled?" Brandon choked on his words, and his jaw dropped to the point someone could put an egg in his mouth. His eyes widened, and his snot drooled down uncontrollably.

"H-How did you do it?" Right before his very eyes, under the glaring sun, the pebble in Roy's right hand had disappeared without a trace, as if it had moved away before anyone realized it.

When Roy clenched his fist and opened it again, the pebble appeared out of thin air. "See that? That's the trick I told you about." Roy was satisfied with the reaction he got from Brandon. The secret to that trick was Roy's inventory space. The pebble was transported there, and all Roy had to do was think about it to make it reappear.

"I don't believe you! Do it again!"

"Let's do it with a different item this time. Do you have any money?" Roy asked.

"Sure I do." Brandon would smuggle money from his father sometimes to treat his buddies to some dried fruit and fruit wine in the inn.

"I'll need one crown to do this. If you can kindly give it to me."

Piqued by his curiosity, Brandon fell for Roy's ruse. He took out a yellow coin — a crown — and gave it to Roy. He then craned his neck to see the trick. Roy closed his palm and turned his hand down, and when he turned it back up, the crown had disappeared into thin air.

"I stayed at home all the time to learn this trick. Now that I've mastered it, I think I should show it to you guys."

Brandon, still skeptical, searched Roy, but he found no place where Roy could have hidden the crown. Left with no excuses, he agreed to Roy's deal.

"Right. You teach me this trick, and I'll ask my dad to take you as his apprentice. This is a good deal."

"Oh, and one more thing you need to know." Since Brandon didn't ask for his money back, Roy kept it for himself. "Don't ever call me Rooster Slayer, and don't tell anyone about it."

In the butcher's house stood a pudgy middle-aged man who was caressing a cow hung upside down by the limbs on a butchering rack. As he was about to slaughter it, the butcher noticed Roy and Brandon coming in. He ignored Roy and roared angrily at his fat son. "Where'd you go again, you brat? You missed the chief's classes for half a month this time! Do you think money grows on trees? If you keep on being illiterate, you can forget about being a bard! Be a butcher like me!"

Brandon stared down and blushed after his father exposed his dream. He was a butcher's son, but his dream was to become a bard who traveled the world and told various stories to people he met along the way. If anyone knew about it, they'd laugh their socks off.

There were only three villagers in Kaer who knew how to read and write, including the chief. Most of the villagers would have to pay if they wanted to write to their relatives. Even though Fletcher was a mere brute, he didn't want his son to be illiterate.

"If you can get the chief's praise, I'll get Tom to take you to Vengerberg, Brandon! If you can learn everything from him, I'll get you to Oxenfurt University even if it bankrupts me! Your mother wanted you to go before she passed away. Don't disappoint her!"

Roy didn't think much about it when he heard about Brandon wanting to be a bard, but he was surprised after hearing what Fletcher said. This guy has a big dream.

Being a butcher was a lucrative job, but educated people enjoyed better status in the world. Someone who could read and write the common speech of the northern kingdoms could live a great life in any village. If they were lucky enough to be a scribe in a city, they could garner great respect. If they managed to get into a university, they'd be almost revered.

The university Fletcher mentioned, Oxenfurt, was one of the best universities in the world, and only the Nilfgaardian Imperial Academy was on par with it. Geralt's best friends, Jaskier and Shani, were graduates of Oxenfurt.

You can't underestimate villagers, huh?

Roy looked at Fletcher, then at Brandon.

Fletcher was still yelling at his son and ignoring Roy. "Get into the house, you brat!"

Brandon gave a pleading look at Roy, and Roy went up to Fletcher. "Uncle Fletcher, I'm — "

The butcher waved him down impatiently and interjected. "You're all healed up, aren't you, Roy? Take some meat with you later when you go back. Susie's worried sick about you, so spend some time with her."

Brandon, still wanting to learn the magic trick, croaked despite his fear, "Fletcher, he wants to be your apprentice."

"Him?" Fletcher glanced at Roy. "I am looking for an apprentice, but you've never even toiled in the fields. Susie won't let you. Also, you're frail and feeble. How long will it take for you to process one animal? Half a day? No, you can't be my apprentice. Just go away," Fletcher said honestly.

Being a butcher might've been exhausting and dirty, but everyone wanted to do it. As long as they had the skill, they could earn many crowns and luxury. Fletcher wanted Brandon to inherit the business — for it would set him up for life — but since Brandon could learn common speech, Fletcher didn't force him into it. Brandon had a better future anyway.

Since Roy was frail, most of the ways to gain EXP were dangerous for him. He needed a safe, stable source of EXP, so a little hurdle wouldn't stop him. He cracked his fingers and put on a serious look. "Give me a chance to explain, Uncle Fletcher."

He nodded.

"I've talked this through with my parents, so I'm calling the shots here." Roy paused. "You said a tough body is essential for a butcher, and you're right, but more than that, a great butcher must be skilful and experienced. I think that can be attained if I put in enough work. I know you can cut up all the livestock perfectly even with your eyes closed, because you're experienced.

"I might be frail now, but I'm young, energetic, and still growing. Also, I can learn fast. If you're willing to teach me, I won't let you down, I promise." Roy gritted his teeth and made another offer. "If I can't work well in my apprenticeship, I'll work for free. All I need is some occasional meat."

After hearing the offer, the butcher grinned. "You've changed, Roy. You used to be really quiet, but now you're a glib tongue. Looks like I have to take you in then. Right, I'll give you a chance for Susie's sake. Can you make the kill?" He moved away, revealing the cow behind him.

"If you can kill this big old cow here and keep your barf down, I'll take you as my apprentice."

He thought Roy wouldn't make the kill, for a young man like him had never seen blood. However, the soul inhabiting this body lived in a time where information was free, and gore was abundant. Roy, or to be more precise, Luo Yi, had seen worse than a cow's butcher.

Roy took the butcher's knife from Fletcher calmly before going up to the hanging cow. He then turned back and said sincerely, "Uncle Fletcher, to be honest, I had a long dream after the horse crashed into me, and I've decided to change myself after I woke up. I'm just a villager who knows nothing about toiling in the fields, but I have to learn something to support myself and the family. Moore and Susie's been taking care of me for a long time now. It's time I pay my dues."

A deafening silence befell the butcher's home. All the color drained from Brandon's face, and he held his breath. He might've been the butcher's son, but he'd never killed anything. Every time Fletcher worked, he would stay far, far away and cover his ears. The frail Roy, who was holding the gleaming butcher's knife, looked so familiar, yet so alien to him.

Roy's not the timid guy he used to be, Brandon thought.

Surprise flared on Fletcher's glistening face. Did Roy just grow up? He's already working for his family. Then he glanced at the snotty brat who was his son.

Should I get a horse to crash into this brat? That seems like how someone would grow as a person.

"Roy, there should be a bulge around the cow's neck. I just found it earlier. Use the knife and stab into that. If you do it right, the cow should die peacefully."

The moment Fletcher said that, Roy squinted. He thought back at how he killed the chicken, and grasped the feeling he'd had when he'd slit its throat.

Roy made a calm swing, and the knife made a clean, fierce stab. Roy pierced the cow's neck and pulled the knife out in a moment. The animal stared at him, wide-eyed, for the final time in its life. Tears streamed down its face, and it mooed weakly before taking its last breath without any struggle.

At the same time, Roy's character sheet showed he had seven EXP. Obviously, killing the cow granted him five EXP.

It was his second kill, but he didn't retch, nor did he buzz with excitement.

Killing a cow was different from killing a chicken. Instead of being elated about getting the experience, Roy felt sad, and also scared.

Why do I gain EXP from killing? How does it work anyway? How many EXP can I gain if I kill a human? Are living beings nothing but EXP for my character sheet? And how does it dictate the amount of EXP I gain for the kill I make? The size? Or the life force? Or the creature's soul? Or… something else? Countless questions popped into his mind, and he must kill to find the answer to those questions. He stood before the dead cow, stunned, and blood dripped from his knife.

At the same time, Fletcher let out a hearty laugh and smacked his shoulder. The impact from that smack snapped Roy out of his trance. "Nice kill! Didn't expect you to be this gutsy. Say, did you get braver after almost being crushed by the horse? Either way, you made the cut. If you don't mind getting yourself dirty and exhausted, come here before dawn tomorrow. Make it through, and you'll be getting some meat. Some crowns too, if you're exceptional."

Fletcher was getting on in age. His son spent all his time learning common speech and refused to inherit the business. The butcher desperately needed a helper. Roy might've been frail, but Fletcher had watched over him over the years. Roy was an honest boy who knew how to give back. Because of Susie, he was also Roy's uncle, so Fletcher didn't mind teaching him the skill.

Roy snapped out of his sadness, and resolve stirred within him. "I'll be here on time, Uncle Fletcher." I can barely feed myself, and an unknown danger is approaching. I can't feel sorry for a cow when I have to kill more creatures. That'd make me a hypocrite, he mocked himself. Then Roy stopped feeling sorry and gripped the knife tightly.

Chapter 4

That night, Roy begged Moore and Susie to let him work as the butcher's apprentice. The couple refused at first, but they couldn't keep it up as Roy didn't stop, so they agreed.

The couple had been by Roy's side since the day he was born, and they thought it was bizarre that Roy's demeanor had completely changed after waking up. He used to be a quiet, timid child, but then he became talkative and expressive.

However, the concern shown by Roy toward them wasn't fake, so the innocent couple didn't suspect anything. Instead, they felt relieved about their son's change. They thought that the accident matured him and made him grow up.

When the next day came, the Kaer villagers were surprised to see a frail Roy following the butcher around.

"Did Moore's kid turn insane after almost getting crushed? He's as weak as a girl. He can't butcher anything."

"Oh, what do you know, you bumpkin? The boy had a brush with death. Of course he's going to change, but I bet he won't last the week. Not everyone can be a butcher, and it's a lucrative job. Why'd Fletcher want to share with him?"

The villagers gossiped about him, but Roy ignored their nasty comments. All he wanted to do was work with Fletcher, but after a day, he found out that a butcher's job was different from what he'd had in mind.

After the bigger livestock were sent to the butcher's place, Fletcher would feed the cows and goats some yellow powder that would paralyze them to prevent them from struggling as they were killed.

Fletcher told him the powder was an anesthetic the village's herbalist gave him. After killing the livestock came the hardest part: cutting up the meat perfectly. If they wanted to keep the muscle intact after cutting it, the butcher had to have a thorough understanding of the anatomy of cows, goats, and pigs.

Fletcher wasn't talented enough to draw the anatomy of the livestock. All he could do was teach Roy through action.

When Roy saw Fletcher calmly skin the cow, disembowel it, and filet the meat, he started to puke. The stench of the cow's insides filled the air, becoming a miasma of everything that was foul in the world. Everywhere he looked, Roy could only see a crimson hue, the cow's blood splattering everywhere.

His stomach churned, and he retched again. The kill wasn't much, but the disassembling of the livestock was a great test of his will.

The butcher chortled. "I knew something was off when you killed that cow so easily yesterday. Now you know how gory this line of work is. Told you it's dirty and exhausting. Why else do you think everyone else stays away from being a butcher? Well, everyone except you, Roy. Of course, you ain't going to get my business this easily. See if you can keep up until the end."

When Roy recovered from his retching, his head felt fuzzy, and his legs were starting to turn to jelly. But the butcher didn't give him time to rest.

"Come here and take the knife. I'll teach you how to make a perfect cut. Let's start with strength control. Start here, and cut upward."

"I said up! The fuck are you cutting?! Dammit! Put your back into it!"

Every little mistake Roy made earned him a harsh scolding from Fletcher.

Gods, he complained quietly. Not only does the apprentice have to wade through the bloody scene, they have to endure this scolding and get worked to the bone.

It didn't take long for Roy to start feeling sore in his arms. His Constitution was four, one point lower than a healthy adult. Because of that, he would tire easily. The exhaustion from his body and soul was starting to take a toll, wearing him down.

Why did I ask to be an apprentice? I did this to myself.

Even though Roy was grumbling in silence, he finished the job Fletcher gave him. It was more important than his own feelings, but the point here was that every livestock he killed granted him EXP.

I am working for someone else after all. Even so, I get to train my body, gain EXP, and I even have meat. Perfect. Nothing to complain about.

His first day of being an apprentice finally came to an arduous end after butchering two cows. The clients were from another village, and Fletcher received ten crowns for his service. "Business ain't this good every day," Fletcher told him.

Kaer only had a hundred families or so. Even if they included business from the other villages, it wasn't as if Fletcher had work all the time.

When their job was done for the day, Fletcher, in all his generosity, gave Roy a piece of meat the size of his hand. Fletcher didn't see him as free labor either. He'd pay Roy one crown per week, but Roy didn't complain. He was just starting out in that line of work, so money wasn't important early on.

"What should we do with the innards, Uncle Fletcher?"

"Toss 'em out."

The world of "The Witcher" was similar to the European continent in Roy's past life. Not everyone could stomach the innards of livestocks. After the bigger livestock were butchered, their innards would be buried in the wilds and burned. Either that, or they'd be fed to the fish in a river.

"Can I take them?" Roy didn't care that much. He lived in C Nation in his past life, where everyone ate everything under the sun, and he had his fair share of innards. Innards? So what? Meat is meat. He was a growing boy, and he'd get his hands on any food.

As dusk started to fall, the shadows became longer, connecting them to the twilight world. Roy washed the blood from the butcher's yard and left with a heavy, bloody bag of innards. The weight of it almost made him pass out, but he endured. The day of butchering also netted him ten EXP.

As the sun started its descent down the horizon, smoke started billowing above the chimneys of Kaer's rickety houses. The men who'd toiled in the fields for the whole day came back with their hoes thrown over their shoulders. The children, filthy after a day's worth of games, played chase with their livestock in the yard. As the sky darkened, candlelight started illuminating the houses, providing a shred of warmth to the night.

Roy took a deep breath. "I wonder how much longer this peace will last."

When he was just a short distance away from his home, Roy could vaguely see two soldiers coming to the village. They were clad in yellow armor, and they had swords hanging from their belts. Once the soldiers took a few heavy bags, they went back to their cart and left in a hurry. The villagers were already used to the soldiers' arrival, so they didn't react to them.

Roy knew what was happening. Everyone in Kaer had to give the ruler of Lower Posada a part of their harvest as tax. The ruler took a whopping thirty percent of the villagers' harvest, leaving them with just enough to live their lives. Moore had skullcaps and common hop in his yard, and after collecting the harvest, handed two bags of dried skullcaps to the ruler.

Skullcaps were similar to tobacco leaves on Earth. Whenever they had time, the villagers would whip their pipes out, pop the skullcap in, and puff the smoke. It was their way of living life.

Taxes were common everywhere, especially Aedirn. Every nation under its rule, including proxy nations, had to pay higher taxes compared to the other three northern kingdoms. Because of that, Aedirn was constantly under the threat of peasant movements.

As Roy went around to chat with the villagers, he found out that a peasant movement had blown up in Aldersberg, southern Aedirn.

"What the heck is the monarchy thinking? No wonder Aedirn lost its rights to both the northern and southern part of the nation in the end. No wonder it became a broken nation."

"Danger is approaching. I have to race with time."

Food was the only thing that could stave off Roy's stress for a while. He still had some rooster meat from the kill from a day ago, and after coming home with beef, Susie cooked up a big pot of meat soup. It still wasn't seasoned, and it was still tasteless, and Roy could still taste the meat's stench. Even so, they at least had meat.

Fletcher might have discarded the innards, but Roy took them back and cleaned them up. He then scrounged for some celery, wild greens, and salt he gleaned from his parents after a bit of begging. After that, he stir fried the ingredients.

The aroma and stench of meat wafted throughout the house from Roy's stir-fried meat and innards. If it was the old him, Roy wouldn't have eaten a crude dish like that, but his new body didn't mind it. Food was precious in their era, and meat scarce. Also, people only had two meals here, so a growing boy like him wouldn't let go of any chance to gobble meat up.

Meat was great, but it was a shame Roy only gained 0.1 EXP from it. And he understood that killing creatures was the best way to level up. "I can level up quickly even if I only make a few kills every other day." Roy was starting to look forward to his butchering life.

Chapter 5

As the night turned dark, the villagers started blowing their candlelights out. The men went to sleep with their wives beside them, while the children stared into the night sky and counted the sheep. Thompson, the night patrol, went around the village with nothing but a torch and his rusty sword. His job was to chase away any beasts or bandits, and to signal everyone if danger was coming.

The only places that were still bright were the chief's home and the ramshackle inn in the village center — Ol' Captain's Inn.

Occasionally, single young men with time to spare would frequent the inn to spend the night away from home. Once they had a few drinks, they'd get high and call the inn's boss — One-Eyed Jack — for a game of Gwent. One-Eyed Jack was a bearded man who loved to brag about his younger days that were spent on the seas of Skellige Isles.

Ol' Captain's Inn was illuminated warmly by the crackling fireplace and the luminescent candles that hung along the walls. It was a quiet place, one where a few customers were enjoying their drinks after a day of hard work.

Roy was standing before the Gwent game board, and his eyes gleamed as he looked at the delicate, beautiful cards. Gods, these are actual Gwent cards!

Gwent was first created by a dwarf as a way to stave off boredom, but it quickly grew in popularity thanks to its simple rules and interesting and ever-changing gameplay. Nobles and civilians alike loved to play a few matches in their spare time.

The characters in the cards were based on the legendary characters in the world, such as King Emhyr of Nilfgaard, King Foltest of Temeria, King Demavend of Aedirn — who was wearing a crown — and the beautiful Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia.

Every Gwent card was a dwarf's labor of love. Their flawless craftsmanship, gorgeous artwork, and perfect design were divine and impossible to forge. Some of the unique cards were created by a dwarf grandmaster, making them masterpieces.

A normal card would usually go for a couple of crowns at most, and most shops would sell a few of them. Some of the rarer ones could cost as much as a house in Vengerberg, the capital of Aedirn, but the collectors who would sell those were scarce.

After watching a few matches, Roy saw Nilfgaardian decks, Northern Kingdom decks, and even Skellige Isles decks, but there were no monster cards or Scoia'tael decks. Monster cards were rare, while Scoia'tael decks, well…

Scoia'tael was an alliance who helped Nilfgaard ambush the humans in the Northern Kingdoms in the war. The Northern War hadn't begun yet in the year 1260, which meant nobody knew of Scoia'tael, and that meant no decks. Scoia'tael decks would only emerge after the Northern War, where a dwarf grandmaster would create the expansion pack.

"Hey, Roy, why aren't you at home? It's past your bedtime. You shouldn't be in an inn." When One-Eyed Jack tried to pat Roy's head with his furry hand, Roy evaded it easily.

Roy gave him a sheepish grin. He was only thirteen, so acting cute wasn't something to be ashamed about. As long as it gets me what I need. "I'm waiting for Brandon, Jack. He said he'd treat me to some fruit wine tonight," Roy lied. He was waiting because he had a deal to keep. He'd teach Brandon a simple magic trick he'd learned online in his past life.

The Gwent match came as a surprise though. Roy thought he could make some money out of it, for the players in Witcher 3 would invariably get addicted to Gwent.

An ugly smile carved itself on One-Eyed Jack's weathered, wrinkly face. "That fatso? He'd steal his old man's money just to have some booze here. His wine is diluted with water though. If I didn't do that, ol' Fletcher would have found out about it and whooped his ass. Don't pick up that habit." At the same time, his eyes shone, and One-Eyed Jack quickly placed a white Gwent card on the board.

That play turned his opponent's face as white as the card One-Eyed Jack placed.

"Take this, Otter! Biting Frost! All your Close Combat cards' strength is now 1! Thirty-five to twenty! Game, set, and match!"

Jack pooled the crowns to himself, the coins clattering against the table as they moved.

Otter the farmer's face fell. "Dammit. My luck's worse than the fish in Kovir. That's it. I'm out for the night." He darted out of the inn.

Then Roy quickly took his place and stared at One-Eyed Jack.

"Sit somewhere else, boy. My old friend's coming, and tonight I'm going to win all his crowns. I ain't taking no for an answer."

"Jack, since we both have nothing to do, why don't I play with you as your warmup?"

Jack shook his head. "Do you even have Gwent cards?" There's no way a kid would have the money for Gwent.

"Aw, come on. Everyone knows Captain Jack's a collector. You have tons of cards in your collection. There must be more than one copy of some. Can't you just make a deck for me?" Roy clasped his hands and gazed at Jack with sparkling eyes.

Jack sighed. "You used to be so sweet and sheepish. What happened to you? Did someone drill obstinance into your head? You sure won't back down." Jack raised his hand to smack Roy, but then he remembered something, and he stopped.

"Fine, I owe you this. I can lend you my cards, but there's no point playing Gwent without any bets. If you lose, you'll have to clean up my inn once. Deal?"

"What if I win?"

"You get one crown."

"But you got two crowns per win," Roy blurted. Jack was about to fly into a rage, but Roy covered his mouth before he could say anything else.

A short while later, Roy had a Northern Realms deck made out of thirty-five cards. Thirty-one of them were unit cards that had a strength of six or less, and four were weather cards. There wasn't even one unique hero card. Not one.

Gwent cards were smooth and soft to the touch. It felt even better than a teenage girl's perfect skin, and for an instant, Roy was reluctant to let them go.

On the other hand, Roy had no idea about One-Eyed Jack's deck.

The game started shortly after. Sometime later, Brandon scurried to the table to watch the match, and a dark-skinned man measuring over six feet four came along.

PR/N: Six feet four is around 1.93 meters.

They did nothing but watch silently. Roy started the game slow, playing his cards hesitantly. On the other hand, Jack was nonchalant. He crossed his arms whenever it was Roy's turn, and he played lightning fast when it was his. Roy, inevitably, lost the first two rounds.

However, as the matches went on, Roy ended up turning the tables, winning match after match. Jack stared at the board, unblinking. He found it harder to make his moves, and his face fell after every loss.

"You cheated, you little bastard!" Jack roared as he shot up. It was half an hour later. His face was red from the tension, and he looked like an angered lion. Before he could do anything, an impossible muscly hand pushed him down to his seat.

"I've been watching the whole time, captain. Roy didn't cheat. I guarantee it." Seeger had a sure look on his face, though a smile spread across his lips silently. He loved it when Jack lost, for Seeger never won a Gwent match against him.

Roy gave the red-haired man a look of gratitude.

The man was Seeger, a Kaer villager and blacksmith who worked as a repairman for the villagers' farming tools. Roy heard that Seeger used to be in Jack's crew, and they had run a trade ship on the Skellige Isles. After Jack's retirement, Seeger came with him to Aedirn to settle down. Seeger wasn't born and raised in Aedirn; he was a Skellige Isles local, and the man was an honest one.

"You should thank the horse that crashed into you, Roy." Seeger smacked Roy's head. "You used to act like a girl, but now, now you're starting to look like a man."

After that little episode, the Gwent match went on for half an hour, totaling to eight matches in the end. One-Eyed Jack lost five of them, and a whopping five crowns sat quietly on Roy's side of the table. He'd have to work with Fletcher for more than a month to earn what he'd made during that one night.

"Unbelievable. Are you really siding with this brat, o great Melitele? My deck is two times better than his, but I lost five matches? This can't be real. Even if he's skilled, he can't beat me that easily."

Still frustrated over his loss, Jack glowered at Roy. Roy worried silently after being glared at. Did I go too far?

He did cheat, but nobody saw it. Roy kept two weather cards in his inventory space when nobody was looking, and throughout the matches, he'd swapped his cards to freeze Jack's units. That lowered their strength, which Jack worked so hard to pile up. Gods, that was fun.

"Because I am lucky." Roy tried to sound as calm as possible. "Nobody is luckier than me when it comes to Gwent. The great Melitele has granted me her blessing."

"Dammit!" Jack slammed the wall, and it shook from the impact. "If it weren't for that damned thief, Sasha, you wouldn't have won. She stole my Mysterious Elf!"

Sasha? Roy paused for a moment at the mention of that name. He thought he'd met Sasha in the game, but he couldn't remember who she was.

Brandon, the little fat kid, thought about it and shouted, "Isn't Sasha the rider who knocked into Roy?"

The mention of the accident made Jack give up dwelling on his loss. "Forget it. If it weren't for me chasing after her, she wouldn't have panicked and crashed into Roy. I'll let this matter slide today."

Roy connected the dots and realized why Jack said he owed him, and why he was willing to lend a Gwent deck. So it's because he has a rare card, and a thief came to steal it. That's why Roy got knocked out and merged with me.

"Come here at the same time tomorrow night, Roy. We'll have a few matches. You won't be lucky forever. I'll find out how you cheat one way or another."

Roy took the offer without hesitation. He made five crowns in half an hour, so there was no reason not to let his greatest source of income go. Captain Jack's as addicted to Gwent as those dwarves who got bankrupt because of it.

Brandon, wanting to have a piece of the show, tugged on Roy's sleeve. "Roy, Roy, teach me that magic trick!" He whipped out a handful of aromatic, sweet, yellowish snacks from his pocket and popped them into Roy's mouth. 𝗯𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥.𝐜𝗼𝐦

"Those are cracklings. They're delicious, aren't they? Fletcher cooks up cracklings every time he slaughters a pig. You teach me some tricks, and I'll bring you snacks every day."

Roy looked at the naive, childish, chubby boy, and smiled. He flattened out a single strand of hair that poked out from Brandon's head. "Let's make it quick. We'll have to go to bed soon."

Chapter 6

Tranquil days passed by quietly like a flowing river. Before he knew it, Roy had been working as an apprentice for nearly a month, and he spent many nights getting into Gwent matches in the inn. Slowly but surely, Roy started to blend into the familiar yet alien Kaer.

Over the month of working and playing Gwent, Roy managed to save up sixty crowns, most of which came from Jack and Seeger. The money was enough to sustain a trip to Vengerberg or any big city. Roy wanted to win more crowns, but Seeger and Jack started bringing their guards up when around him. They stopped playing Gwent with him, and Roy lost his greatest source of income.

Ever since he got to know Seeger, Roy kept asking him about his hometown, the Skellige Isles. He was trying to forge a bond with Seeger. He spent fifty crowns purchasing a dagger and a small crossbow from Seeger.

"Gotta protect myself, you see?" 𝐛𝐞𝗱𝗻𝐨𝐯𝗲𝗹.𝐜𝐨𝐦

The crossbow was called Gabriel, named after the Forger of Verden. It was grey in color, and Roy could hold it with one hand. Seeger also gave him twenty wooden crossbow bolts as a gift.

Any other Aedirn blacksmith wouldn't have sold Gabriel to a scrawny boy like Roy, but Seeger was different. He came from the Skellige Isles, and he was an honest man. Seeger believed that a man should always possess a weapon from a young age in order to stay safe amidst the chaos. Children as young as ten would have started swinging weapons around on Skellige Isles, so he didn't mind selling Gabriel, especially when he had taken a liking to Roy.

Compared to the crossbows that could've been easily found in the game, the crossbow Seeger gave him was powerful. It might've had an outdated structure, short range, and slow reload, but at least crossbows didn't demand any skill. Even weak children and the elderly could use it. As long as they held it steady and shot straight, even elite soldiers could be hurt.

The crossbow was the perfect choice for Roy, who had no combat experience, and had a lower Constitution than the average adult. At least it was better than a melee weapon. His perception rivaled an adult's and he had a broad range of sight, making him an efficient ranged fighter.

Roy kept his dagger and crossbow in his inventory space. It was a convenient thing for Roy. Aside from being unable to keep living beings, the only restriction was size. He could keep anything as long as it didn't exceed the maximum space. All he had to do was think about the item, and it would show up in his hands.

As dawn broke through the horizon, the dewdrops on the weeds flanking the streets started to glisten under the sunlight. Roy, as usual, was going to the butcher's place. He would wave at the villagers on the way there, but most of them ignored him.

Kaer was a traditional place. The villagers held the belief that children should inherit their parents' business. They thought Roy should just toil the fields, but instead, he went to learn the skills of a butcher, spent his nights in the inn, and even made a friend out of the outsider from the Skellige Isles.

His aberrant behavior garnered him nothing but the villagers' jealousy and nasty whispers. If he was the original Roy, he would have locked himself up where the sun didn't shine after hearing the rumors, but the current Roy didn't care about them.

If his plan went well, he'd level up first before going out into the wild and hunting with his new weapons. He could just get some kills and sell the animal skins for some crowns. Of course, he'd keep on learning the trade of the butcher.

Something like a hunting license might've existed in big cities, but a small, remote village like Kaer wasn't bound under that regulation. Roy could hunt all he wanted.

Once he leveled up a few more times, Roy thought he would be able to defend himself well enough. After he made some money, he'd try to bring Moore and Susie to Novigrad and settle there. He'd have to make sure his parents were safe before he could go off in his pursuit of strength and explore the wonderful world he was in.

Messages started flooding his mind. Aretuza, the academy for young ladies, was located in the Thanedd Isles, Gors Velen, while Ban Ard Academy for young men was located in Kaedwen. The stronghold of the Wolf School, Kaer Morhen, was located in the Blue Mountains, which was east of Kaedwin. It was there that Vesemir lived.

All the places the messages told him about were in his exploration plan, and Roy intended to check off everything on his bucket list. However, for the time being, he'd take the first step to his momentous journey — killing more livestock. Then he'd level up.

After a month of continuous scolding and teachings from the butcher, as well as the sweat and blood Roy sacrificed for his work, his stats changed ever so slightly.

'Roy

Age: Thirteen years and eight months old

Status: Civilian

HP: 41

Strength: 4→4.2

Dexterity: 5→5.1

Constitution: 4→4.1

Perception: 5

Will: 4→4.5

Charisma: 5

Spirit: 6

You unlocked a new Skill.

Unnamed (Passive): Level 1

(You have killed and dismembered more than four types of animals. Your total kill and dismemberment has exceeded fifteen. You now have a bloody aura around you. The aura cannot be dispelled. You have a one percent chance to Fear any enemies within a one foot range. If the enemy has a lower Will than you, you have a one percent chance to cause it to lose control over its body. You have an understanding of the anatomy of mammals (pigs, cows, goats, dogs etc.). You know how to control your strength and weapon to bypass their skin, muscle, and bones to attack their weakness. Your damage against creatures with a similar anatomy is permanently increased by one percent. Tip: This skill will level up according to the number and types of creatures you kill.)

PR/N: One foot is around 0.3 meters.

Inventory space: 1 cubic meter

Other: Unknown

EXP: 98/100'

After a month of intense training and enough food to eat, Roy's strength, constitution, and dexterity saw a slight increase. His face was no longer a stark contrast to his jet black hair, but instead had a pink glow of health to it. Roy was obviously sturdier than he was a month ago. He was still scrawny, but at least he had shed that feeling of extreme weakness.

Will was the attribute that saw the biggest increase, but Roy thought it was natural. Anyone would have an iron will after having puked for a month and kept on working in a bloody, squalid, and rancid environment.

Roy could feel something evil coming from his new passive skill. The odds of it activating and the damage increase it provided were only one percent, because it was only a level 1 skill after all. The damage increase would help in at least some situations. Besides, the skill could level up through skill point distribution and the moment Roy made enough kills.

Hm, since I got this skill through the butcher's teaching, and it levels up through killing, why don't I call it… Roy gave it a name, and the unnamed skill was called Massacre.

On the way back to his house, Roy bumped into Brandon, who tried to ram into him.

Brandon had a special affinity with magic. He only spent a month mastering the little tricks Roy taught him, such as the prophecy, the magical hay, and the phantom fork, and he was already performing them perfectly.

Roy wasn't sure if Brandon could be a bard, but he knew Brandon could be a magician if he wanted to. After being harassed by Brandon for a month, Roy had already held up his end of the bargain, and he had no desire to play along with Brandon anymore.

"How many times have I told you? I taught you everything I know, so let me go, you snotty brat!"

Brandon's eyes were filled with the desire for knowledge. "It's fine. You can get a gander of this trick I improvised on. Man, if I perform this when I become a bard, the whole Kaer's going to be surprised. No, the whole Lower Posada!"

"Not interested. I have a job to do."

"I can give you some cracklings. Fletcher made it yesterday." Brandon gave him a sycophantic smile. That was the first time the little guy had to beg for a favor. Usually it was the other way around, but after finding out about magic and falling in love with it, Brandon showed an unprecedented passion for it.

Roy stood his ground. "Then show it to your dad. Or your lackeys. Brady and the gang would love to praise you for your show."

"My dad? He's going to kick my ass." Brandon held Roy's hand and insisted, "And I can't show those guys. They're just kids. They can't give me any ideas to improve. You're the only one around who can."

Roy stared into his eyes and cruelly replied, "Stop coming to me. I have a job, and I need to settle something important. Never talk to me about magic tricks ever again. If you don't have anyone to show off to, why don't you show it to your mother?"

Brandon froze, and he looked down in silence.

After Roy shook Brandon off, he went to Fletcher's house and noticed a couple of people struggling against a big white pig. Fletcher was clamping down on its head, while a villager tried to pull on its tail, but the pig dragged them around and oinked loudly. Roy hastened and pinned the pig down, then Fletcher fed it the anesthetic, and it finally stopped squirming.

Fletcher plopped down onto the pig's dirty back, but didn't complain. The flaps on his face trembled as he moved, and he asked, sounding nonchalant, "You saw that brat, didn't you, Roy?"

"Yeah. He went to show off his magic tricks to some kids."

"Call him back for me once we butcher this pig. That brat stood the chief off again." Fletcher rubbed his nose and whispered, "I did yell at him a bit too harshly though, so help me out. I don't want him to run around in a fit of anger."

He just doesn't know how to show that he cares, doesn't he? Roy thought, and he agreed to help out.

With Fletcher's help, Roy killed the fat pig in one strike. Once the blood had finished flowing out, his EXP bar filled, and Roy felt a weak quake from his character sheet. He then excused himself and sat down somewhere quiet.

When he looked at his character sheet, there was a plus sign after the EXP bar.

After concentrating his mind on the plus sign, a new message showed up on the sheet. "Level 1 (3/500)."

At the same time, a surge of warmth flowed through his body. It felt like inner energy, Qi, or as they called it, chaos energy. At the same time, a plus sign showed up after every stat and his skill, Massacre.

He gained one attribute point and one skill point from the level up.

Roy was overjoyed, but he held his excitement back and observed his stats closely.

His Strength was 4.2, Constitution 4.1, and Will 4.5. Those stats were weaker than an average adult. Even if he added one point to any one of them, it wouldn't provide him with any edge in combat. He could just keep working as an apprentice to the butcher, and his body would eventually grow into the stats of an adult. There was no point in wasting a hard-earned point on that.

He had no desire to become someone who relied on their looks for a living, so Charisma wasn't in his list of considerations.

That left Spirit, Perception, and Dexterity for him, and it was those stats that Roy was paying attention to.

He was on par with an average adult in those stats, and his Spirit was one point higher than a normal adult's. In his case where he had little attribute points, Roy would prefer to increase his advantage rather than to be a master of all trades.

However, Roy hadn't mastered any spell, nor had he come into contact with pseudo spells like the witchers' signs. Since Spirit would only increase the strength of spells, Roy wouldn't add a point to Spirit.

So only Perception and Dexterity are left.

Adding a point to Dexterity would increase his reaction speed and sight when he was moving. It would increase his efficiency in utilizing Gabriel, which would help in his plan.

Adding one point in Perception would grant him a clearer view of his surroundings. It could be used in defense and premonition. A higher Perception would also help with his observation skills and sight, which could increase his efficiency with Gabriel.

After pondering upon the matter long and hard, Roy came to a decision.

"I'll go with Perception then."

The moment he thought of adding that point into Perception, Perception had its point increased by one, making it a total of six. At the same time, a stronger surge of warmth flowed through his whole body.

Roy fell into a state of transcendence after he heightened his perception. The world itself became livelier in his eyes. Roy could faintly smell the stench of blood coming from the butcher's house, and when he looked into the growths of grass, Roy could see the dewdrops on the tips of their blades, and the ladybug that sparkled bright red as it crossed the leaves. He could feel the flow of the air as it brushed against his fingertips before dancing away into the space ahead. The air itself felt warm to the touch, and it enveloped him in a gentle manner.

Everything around him became livelier and more magical than Roy had ever imagined.

He stayed in that trance for the longest time before slowly snapping out of it. And then he added his skill point into Massacre, leveling it up by one level. Massacre was currently level 2.

It was only a one level increase, but the damage increase and activation chance spiked. They were only one percent at level 1, but they were both five percent at level 2. The addition to Perception didn't change Roy's physique though.

Roy was delighted by the improvements he made, and he was confident that his following plan would work out. The euphoria from leveling up swept everything away from his mind, and he had forgotten the request Fletcher asked of him.

Chapter 7

Late at night, Roy was sound asleep, and he had a dream about his meeting with the hook-nosed, bald man who called himself Master Mirror. This happened after he'd defeated the griffin, higher vampire, and the Unseen Elder. Then his dream was broken by a panicked knock on the door.

"Moore, Susie! This is urgent! I need you to open the door right now!" someone called out to the couple outside. Roy struggled to get up, cold sweat drenching his back. He saw his parents standing at the door with a candle holder in hand. Before them stood the muscular butcher, but he looked terrified, and his voice was quavering.

When a gust of the night's breeze brushed across Roy's face, he finally shook the sleepiness away.

What happened? Why does the butcher who cusses all day look so terrified? Roy had the answer before long.

"Did something happen to Brandon, Uncle Fletcher?"

Roy wore his thin hemp pajamas and went up to his parents. The cold candle light shone on Fletcher's face. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips dry. There was worry in his eyes, and he looked haggard, like a cat on hot bricks.

"That damn brat…" Fletcher's head hung low, the torch he held trembling as his hand and beard shivered. "He's missing. Brandon didn't come home tonight."

"Did you search for him in Brady's house? Could he be having a sleepover at his friend's place?"

Roy took a deep breath and calmed himself down. "And Ol' Captain's Inn too. He'd go there once in a while."

"No." Fletcher shook his head. "I searched everywhere. Asked everyone, but nobody saw him since the afternoon. The brat's cheeky, but he's never stayed out this late into the night."

"Calm down, Uncle Fletcher. Think closely. He might have gone somewhere else. We'll help you find him."

"No, you stay here and sleep." Moore clasped his shoulder. "Susie and I will help."

"Dad, did you forget what I've been doing for the past four weeks? I've seen more blood in a month than most people have seen their whole lives. I'm not scared." Roy gave his parents a calm and reassuring look. "I won't get into trouble. Trust me." He held their hands.

Moore and Susie looked at each other and sighed, then they nodded. 𝗯𝗲𝗱𝗻𝗼𝘃𝐞𝐥.𝗰𝗼𝐦

They could see their son's change over the month. It became more and more pronounced with each passing day. He was no longer his old, weak, timid self. Roy was an opinionated boy, and once he had decided something, they wouldn't be able to stop him. They weren't strict parents. After Roy had convinced them to let him join, they exited the yard.

Fletcher held his hand. "Thank you, child."

Roy felt his grip and nodded. Fletcher had been taking good care of him over the month, so he wouldn't sit out when Brandon was missing.

That snotty brat's everything to Fletcher. He'd be devastated if he lost him. Roy knew the pain of bereavement, and he wouldn't wish it on Fletcher.

Every villager lit up their house after hearing about Brandon's disappearance. Fletcher was still on the search, followed by One-Eyed Jack, Seeger, Thompson, and three other male villagers. They were all holding torches, and some of them had a sword hanging from their waist, while the others were holding hoes and pitchforks, ready for the search.

"Is this all? So the chief isn't getting everyone into this?" Roy was slightly disappointed.

One-Eyed Jack touched his beard and sighed. "The older they get, the more death scares them. The chief said it's dangerous in the wild at night, and he'd only send a search party in the morning. Ain't easy getting these folks to join the search. We'd best hurry up, or Brandon would probably stink as much as Skellige's dead fish if we tarry until dawn."

"Can you be quiet, boss?" Seeger then looked at Fletcher calmly and tried to console him. "Brandon's probably lost outside. He's a smart child. Melitele will protect him."

Everyone knew what a kid in a remote village surrounded by the wilds would become if they went missing. Dead. But nobody would mention it.

An eerie chill crept up on Roy, and he recalled how harsh he was toward Brandon that morning. Fletcher even asked him to take care of the child, but he forgot about it after leveling up. If something happens to Brandon, part of the responsibility lies with me.

"Dammit. I have to find him."

"Right. We'll split into two teams to cover more ground. Let's go in different directions, but don't go too far. Come back as soon as possible if you fail to find him," Thompson said. He then took Roy, Seeger, One-Eyed Jack, and Fletcher into his team, while Susie, Moore, and the other villagers were in the other team.

"Don't worry about me, Dad, Susie. Mr. Seeger's here, so I'm perfectly safe. You guys, be careful."

The couple nodded. They could see their son was in a team that was better equipped.

The team walked in a straight line into the darkness with nothing but torches to light their surroundings. Seeger led the group, while Fletcher followed him. Roy trailed behind the butcher, and Jack stood behind Roy. Thompson took the rear.

Untold dangers lurked in the night. The wilds in Lower Posada were infested with rabid dogs, wolf packs, and gruesome creatures who would kill them if given half the chance.

Aedirn's autumn night had always been chilly. The temperature was nearly zero degree Celsius, and Roy was shivering in the cold, his breath turning into mist.

The moon was full that night, its silvery light bathing the wilds, but it provided no security. Strange sounds crept out from the depths of the wilds. They sounded like bugs, but also something else. Something horrifying.

The golden ear of the wheat swayed along as the night breeze whispered its secrets among them, and they danced under the moonlight. The flowers of common hops filled the air with a faint bitter scent, but none came to taste it.

The party started their search in the fields around Kaer, and they kept calling out for Brandon. Even with the help of torches and the moonlight, their vision was severely restricted. Most of them could only see ten feet away.

Roy wasn't most people. Much to his surprise, he realized that his vision wasn't restricted at all. He could see things clearly even if they were thirty feet away, just like how he would in daytime.

He knew he could do this because of the sight improvement from his Perception. Yep. I made the right investment.

After one hour into the search, Brandon was still nowhere to be seen. Roy's search party had searched through every field in Kaer, to no avail. Worry and tension started to brew among them. They knew the chances of Brandon's survival would get slimmer the longer they tarried.

Jack was observing his members along the way, and then he suddenly stopped. "We can't find him like this. Fletcher, think carefully. Where else could that kid go?"

Fletcher hunkered down and held his head in agony. "The damn brat keeps saying he wants to go to a big city and be a bard, but he never even left Kaer a day in his life. The most he did was fish in the river near the village, but he never went farther than that. I haven't fulfilled my promise to him and my wife. I have to send him to Vengerberg and Oxenfurt."

Roy sighed silently after hearing that. A short while later, something struck him. Roy recalled he said something he shouldn't to Brandon. Show it to your mother… "Uncle Fletcher, I've never heard anything about Brandon's late mother."

Fletcher still looked despondent. "Anna's been dead for three years because of her whooping cough. She's buried in…" Fletcher paused. "The cemetery!" He shot up, looking galvanized. "Anna's buried in the cemetery! It's in the east of the village. Could the brat be there? It's possible!"

"What are we waiting for then? To the cemetery!"

The cemetery where the dead villagers rested was about three miles east of the village. There was a dirt path covered by sticks and grass between the village and the cemetery. It was the dead of night, but the search party dashed across the path, torches held up high above their heads.

Roy was trailing behind the men, huffing and puffing. Sweat started glistening on his forehead not long after. He was slightly weaker than an average adult, but he couldn't ask a father who was worried about his son to slow down. All he could do was grit his teeth and follow the team.

Jack was equally out of breath. He was getting on in age, and he had copious amounts of alcohol every day. Because of that, he was physically weaker than most people.

After running a mile, Roy sensed something coming their way, and alarm bells rang in his head inexplicably. "Everybody look out!" he roared.

The moment he said that, everyone noticed dots of eerie green light flashing in the darkness in the overgrown shrubs around them, moving quickly as they did so. They looked like eyes, but they gleamed differently. To be more exact, they crackled like pairs of ghost fire that threatened to burn them whole. Something shuffled within the bushes, and a deep growl followed shortly, revealing a menacing wolf pack before them. It was blocking their way to the cemetery.

Chapter 8

As the wolf pack started to surround them, Roy and his team noticed more pairs of eyes staring at them. They gleamed a menacing green, and when the beasts revealed themselves under the moonlight, they saw they were surrounded by a pack of lean wolves that had different colors of fur.

They surrounded the search party, but because of the light from the torches, stayed some distance away, though they still bared their fangs and snarled. Roy and the others could see that the wolves were ready to strike at any time. There were twenty around them at a glance, and they were all as big as calves. Their size alone was terrifying enough.

Everyone formed a circle by reflex, and they unsheathed their steel swords.

Roy was kept in the center by the men, and all he could see beyond was the wolf pack. The men might've been unable to smell the stench from the wolves, but Roy could. They emanated the rotten odor of blood and meat, making Roy gag.

When he looked closer, he could see the mindless cruelty and desire for fresh meat welling up in the eyes of the beasts. He'd seen videos about wolves in his past life, and he even played games that had them in it, but nothing prepared him for the shock he felt when he saw them in real life.

An uncontrollable shiver crept up on him. Those wolves weren't livestock that were tied up and had anesthetic fed to them. Those wolves were feral hunters, capable of tearing human flesh easily with their sharp fangs.

One-Eyed Jack swung his torch slowly, keeping the wolves at bay with the burning flames. "Look out, everyone. These beasts are known for their cunningness." The old sailor obviously had his fair share of battles in his younger days. He was calm, and there wasn't a hint of fear on his face.

Fletcher and Thompson had seen more than enough gore in their lives. The pack didn't scare them, and they held their sword steady as they faced the wolves.

Seeger gave the animals a threatening glare. He held his steel sword with both hands, positioning it at his right, the weapon's blade facing forty-five degrees upward. His back was taut, his muscles relaxed. Seeger bent down slightly, his left leg pointing at the wolf pack. His right was behind the left, pointing forty degrees outward. Obviously, the blacksmith from Skellige was trained in swordsmanship. His sword handling was fluid and professional.

Roy was the weak link of the team. He was pale and drenched in cold sweat.

"Stay close, men, and move slowly. Don't panic, and no sudden movements," Jack said calmly. The team slowly moved toward the cemetery like an impenetrable fortress.

The moment they took a step, the wolf pack became agitated, and they howled into the night, piercing the silence. The wolves facing them pounced, determined to claw through their prey.

"Away, you beast!" Jack roared, and he slammed his leg into a wolf's head, sending it flying through the air. At the same time, he slashed at the beast, drawing a silvery arc through the air, and it cut through the wolf's thigh.

It whimpered in pain and shuffled backward.

"I might be old, but that ain't mean I can't fight, ye bastard."

One-Eyed Jack wanted to go for the kill, but the other wolves stepped in and blocked the blade from their injured comrade. A pair of wolves snarled at Jack, intending to tear him apart, but they knew a frontal assault was risky. Instead, the wolves decided to kite Jack, searching for his weakness.

Jack swung his sword and torch vigorously, trying to keep the wolves at bay, but his age showed in battle. He wouldn't hold on for much longer. He started sweating, and his movements were getting slower, clumsier.

At the same time, Fletcher, Seeger, and Thompson were fighting the wolves one to two. Their situation was equally as precarious, and they couldn't come to support Jack.

Beyond the battle area, a few more wolves hid in the dark, sharpening their claws as they observed the fight. Once someone would show an opening, they would jump into the fray without hesitation. The team would lose the battle of attrition eventually, thought the wolves.

After a mere five minutes, Jack, the oldest member of the party, was slashed by a wolf's claws, and a bloody gash formed around his waist. He made a counter attack despite the pain, but that was his last one. When another wolf came for him, he couldn't defend himself, and he fell down. The wolf moved onto him like a phantom and opened its maw, intending to feast.

"Didn't expect a beast to get the better of little ol' me," Jack mumbled. When he thought he was going to die, he heard something pierce through the air, and something fell with a dull thud.

Jack struggled to get up, and he looked around, only to see a bolt embedding itself into the wolf that was going to eat him earlier. It fought for life, but eventually, death came for it, and it couldn't outrun its fate.

"Out of the way, Jack." Roy was kneeling down, holding Gabriel in his hands. He'd just pulled the trigger, sending a bolt the wolf's way. Roy's nerves and fear drenched him in sweat, and even his lips trembled. The moment the battle went underway, Roy had taken out his crossbow from his inventory space. He wanted to shoot the beasts, but they moved too swiftly for him to do so. The cover of night didn't help with his aim, and he only managed to get a chance when the wolf let its guard down as it went for the kill.

Fortunately, his bolt met its mark, saving Jack from a terrible fate. The moment it hit the wolf, Roy saw a purple light flash from the weapon.

"Is that… Massacre?"

Roy could see that the purple light was the added damage from his skill, and he knew that the wolf had just come into Massacre's range.

The fact he knew his skill was able to take effect gave Roy some confidence in battle. He stopped trembling, and pulled the string back before shooting at the remaining wolf that was battling Jack.

Another bolt flew through the air in pursuit of its prey, not unlike the scythe of the Grim Reaper. It lodged itself deep into the wolf, and the animal let out a howl of anguish before departing the earth, falling with a thud.

Roy tuned his Perception, trying to find a way out of the battle. He could feel his heart's fierce pumping as it threatened to burst from his chest. His right hand was getting sore from reloading his crossbow, but he noticed a twenty point increase in his experience. His EXP bar was currently 23/500. Apparently, one wolf provided ten EXP.

The double kill raised the morale of Roy's team, while the wolves slowed their attacks, scared because of their comrades' death.

They faltered for only a split second, but it was enough for Roy to make another shot. The bolt buried itself in the leg of the wolf that was battling Seeger. It whimpered in pain, but Seeger didn't stop attacking. He raised his steel sword over his head, tensing his muscles before bringing his sword down, slicing the wolf in half. As he kicked the bloody, mangled carcass away, Seeger thumped his chest and roared in triumph.

At that point, the team had managed to break through the wolves' encirclement. Seeger stood in the vanguard, his sword raised above his head. Everyone else shifted into a defensive stance and kept the pouncing wolves at bay. Roy stood in the middle, and being the only one who was still attacking, released shot after deadly shot at the wolves. When he had used up all twenty bolts, five more wolves lay dead. As the bodies piled up, the wolf pack finally realized that Roy and his team wouldn't go down easily. They gave up on their hunt and went back into the dark with their tails between their legs.

The moment the wolves ran away, Roy and the others heaved a sigh of relief, and they plopped down onto a patch of grass. The battle only took ten minutes, but it drained everything from them. Everyone except Roy was injured, but everything was minor. Once they went back into the village, got it bandaged, and rested up for a while, they'd be good as new.

Roy took a breather and calmed down. As he looked at his bloodied, haggard comrades, a sense of pride welled up within him. "We survived."

Jack let out a hearty laugh. "Looks like little ol' me has another story to brag about now." Jack grinned in pain and smacked Roy's shoulder. "Not bad, kid. I thought you'd be scared shitless and drag us down. Didn't expect you to be the reason we'd live. I'll let your cheating in Gwent slide."

Everyone else shared the same sentiment, but at the same time, they were incredulous. Fifteen wolves had been killed that night, and almost half of them were either taken out by Roy, or had the final hit dealt by him. When they were his age, most of them were still brats. Even Seeger from Skellige hadn't made as many kills as Roy did in one night.

Seeger commented, "It's fortunate that I sold the crossbow to you, or none of us would have survived the night. Tell me the truth, Roy. Moore and Susie adopted you, didn't they? You're the descendant of an elf or a dwarf, aren't you? Humans don't have that kind of accuracy.

Roy smiled at him, then he went to retrieve his bolts from the dead wolves. He couldn't tell them his secret, and had to say that he only made those kills by mostly luck. It was his first time using a crossbow in battle, and the wolves were too swift to follow. Even with his Perception, it was difficult to keep up with the beasts.

He'd be lucky to even make five kills during his next hunt.

Roy joked, "I did say Melitele blessed me. Even if I didn't aim, the wolves still would've gotten shot." Then he looked at his EXP bar. It was standing at 73/500. Yep. The wilds are the best place to gain EXP. But I don't think another chance to get free kills will come by easily with these guys keeping me safe .

Thompson glanced at the mini crossbow Roy held. "That's Gabriel, isn't it? It's an automatic crossbow that can be handled with one hand. It's a fitting weapon for you, so keep it close, and don't lose it. Don't show it off to the soldiers either," he reminded Roy.

Roy nodded.

"Guys, how's it going?" Fletcher interjected. His left forearm was injured, and the worry on his face intensified. "Can we still go on? Brandon might be in danger."

"Of course we're going on." Seeger wiped the blood from his sword with his sleeve before sheathing it. "Victory is just ahead, men. Melitele will punish us if we give up on the child."

Everyone stood up and continued moving toward the cemetery. The remaining journey was peaceful, and the team didn't encounter any further danger.

"Come out, Brandon! I'm here!" Fletcher shouted toward the cemetery when they were still a distance away.

Everyone started getting worried. They prayed to the gods that Brandon would reply.

"Something's wrong," Roy blurted out when they'd gotten past the stony cemetery walls. Something told him they'd come across a crisis the same level as the wolf pack encounter.

His Perception proved to be a great help after he'd surpassed the limits of the average human.

The cemetery was quiet. Too quiet. Beyond the rusted fence was the cemetery grounds where hundreds of villagers lay to rest. Ivory tombstones filled the land, and they gleamed coldly under the icy moonlight. An eerie atmosphere crept up on the team, making them shiver. A small cabin stood in the center of the cemetery. It was the abode of the gravekeeper, Granbell.

PR/N: Excuse me, but is a cemetery supposed to be anything but quiet?

"Something's off. Quiet, Fletcher!"

Thompson raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop, and they lowered their voices to a whisper.

"Even if Brandon's not in there, Granbell should have heard your shout. So why'd he keep quiet?"

"No. Brandon must be in that cabin. Granbell must have taken him in, a-and they're just asleep. Yes, that's right. I need to go in."

Roy gasped, gathering everyone's attention. "Wait, what is that?"

When they looked in the direction he was pointing at, everyone saw a strange hole on the outer side of the cemetery.

"It's a new grave. Someone was buried there last month."

"If memory serves me right, that's where Chris is buried."

When they went up to the grave, they noticed the tombstone lying haphazardly on the ground, and the grave was already empty.

Where'd the corpse go? And who or what did this?

"Um…" Roy looked around and noticed that wasn't the only empty grave. A few other holes were just nearby, and they were obviously empty.

"Which bastard did this? They desecrated the dead and stole their belongings," Seeger mumbled, a frown creasing his forehead. "What's the gravekeeper doing?"

Roy shook his head. The solemn, foreboding look on Jack's face didn't escape him, and the old captain slowly backed away. "Something tells me no human did this." A chilling sensation enveloped Roy.

Chapter 9

The light from the torches shone through the dark cemetery, illuminating the area around them. When the team went to investigate the desecrated graves, they saw that most of them were occupied by the skeletal remains of dead villagers. Only a few lay empty.

"The empty graves are the new ones."

As Roy assessed their situation, he remembered the tales that spoke of bloodthirsty, evil monsters. Ghouls.

If ghouls were lurking in the cemetery, it would prove to be a problem to even witchers, and a precarious situation for normal villagers like them.

"This is a treacherous area. Everyone, let's leave!" Roy tried to warn everyone, but the eerie sound of a whip cracking against air reached them.

Two short moments later, Fletcher grunted. As if he was a fish that was hooked, his limbs straightened, convulsed, and was pulled by something. Then he stumbled forward.

Everyone shone their torches where Fletcher was attacked, and they saw an elongated, skin-colored tentacle glistening in the air, boring a hole in Fletcher's shoulder like an arrow. It almost tore through Fletcher's wound.

Seeger reacted first. He swung his sword up in an attempt to slice the tentacle, but it whipped back into the darkness where the light from the torches couldn't reach it.

"What the hell was that?"

Everyone hastened to form a circle, keeping Fletcher in the middle. 𝑏𝑒𝑑𝘯𝑜𝘷𝑒𝑙．𝑐𝘰𝘮

He was sweating profusely, but he gritted his teeth, not even wincing at the pain. He tried to stop the bleeding by pressing down on the wound, but the crimson fluid didn't stop gushing out. Everything started spinning around him, and he could feel the life flowing out of him. He could see death waiting for him on the other side.

"I-I'm done for! Run! Leave me!" Fletcher said weakly. He pushed everyone away and dashed into the night.

Jack looked around them, and murderous intent welled up within his good eye. But it was not the time for revenge. "We have to get away for now. Revenge can come later! That monster ain't getting away with this easily."

He made a run for the cemetery's exit, and everyone followed.

Seeger dragged the stupefied Roy along. It took a while for him to snap out of it, but he was still shivering from the mysterious encounter.

"That was no ghoul. What was that creature?"

When he looked back, Roy could vaguely make out a hunched, humanoid form. It wasn't sleek, no. In fact, it was bloated, heavy, and its belly resembled a pregnant woman's. The creature looked like an old woman, but it sprinted faster than a cheetah.

The creature pursued the team with tremendous speed, leaving afterimages wherever it went. It ran like the wind, and wherever it was, the creature would let out a shrill scream. It wasn't going to kill the team just yet. The creature was enjoying the chase. It wanted to play with its prey first.

"It collects bodies, looks like a hunched old lady, uses its tongue as a weapon, and lives in cemeteries." As he connected the dots, Roy started to get a picture of the creature that was chasing them.

When Jack noticed Roy spacing out, he slapped him. "Stop spacing out, Roy! Run, and don't think about anything else! Just run for it!"

Roy snapped out of it, and he mustered all his strength to escape the cemetery.

When they were inches away from the exit, the ghastly creature dropped from the sky, and gusts of gale swept past them as it fell. As the dust settled, the team saw what was stopping them. The creature was hideous, its face filled with lumps and moss.

Its skin was blackish green, and they could smell the stench of rotting bodies coming from it. It almost made them gag. The creature was covered in scales that gleamed menacingly under the moon. The claws on its limbs were as long as scythes, and they were caked in flesh, blood, and mud from its prey.

The creature was more gruesome than the witches of old, the disfigured, vengeful women, and even the monsters that haunted their nightmares.

It extended its gnarly arms at them, intending to slice their throats open with its claws. The creature gave them a toothy grin, but its teeth were black and misshapen. It loomed over them like a mountain, dashing any hope of escape.

We're doomed.

Despair welled up within them, but they wouldn't go down without a fight.

Jack, Seeger, and Thompson held their swords with both hands, while Roy whipped out his crossbow. He gritted his teeth and loaded the bow with a bloody bolt.

It was then that someone darted out from the darkness and rammed into the creature. The ambush caught it unaware, and it toppled, giving them a chance to escape.

It was Fletcher. He looked bloodied and crazed, and he struggled to pin down the creature's maw, giving his comrades the opportunity to flee. "Go! Find a witcher and avenge me! Avenge Brandon!" His eyes bulged, and crimson tears streamed down his face.

Fletcher knew his son had met his fate, and he gave up on living. There was no point in surviving when his only family was dead.

The moment he said so, the creature escaped his grip and sent him flying with a kick. Fletcher fell with a thud, his condition unknown. The creature, still angered by Fletcher's ambush, pounced on him, ignoring Roy and everyone else. Its claws were outstretched, and the flesh on them flew everywhere as the creature tried to tear Fletcher apart.

"Ye ain't going to be the only hero here, old timer! I ain't no coward!" Seeger raised his sword, and firm resolve showed on his red face. "Get Roy out of here, boss, Thompson! I am a man from Skellige! We are no cowards who run from battles." Before they could stop him, Seeger charged back into the cemetery and stabbed the creature's back with his blade.

Roy was trying to aim at the creature, but Jack and Thompson dragged him by the arms. "Let's leave, child. Don't let their deaths be in vain."

Roy stopped struggling and put down his crossbow in despondence. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn't stop running. A short while later, he, Jack, and Thompson left the cemetery.

They ran as fast as their legs could take them, and they didn't even look back. They could feel their bodies giving up, but they went on by sheer will and adrenaline. Finally, they caught sight of the lights from Kaer right in front of them.

The safety of the light made Roy relax, and lethargy overwhelmed him in an instant. Everything started spinning around him, his legs started giving out, and Roy blacked out.

"Roy?"

Jack quickly held him up. Roy's face was red, and his eyes were firmly shut. Jack touched his forehead, and it was scalding.

He ran around in the wilds in this weather, late at night, without any rest. It must have taken a toll on him, but he pressed on anyway. Course, there's the wolves and that damned monster. No wonder he fainted.

Jack could understand Roy's circumstances.

"He's still a child after all." Thompson sighed and piggybacked Roy back to the village.

The white-haired village chief came out with a few villagers to welcome them. When he saw them looking filthy and washed out, he knew what had happened. His face fell, but he had to ask. "Where's Fletcher and Seeger?"

"They won't be coming back." Jack massaged his temples. His expression told of agony, but also fear. "You're right, chief. It's dangerous to go into the wilds at night. A horrifying creature attacked us when we went to search for Brandon in the cemetery. You must warn everyone to stay away from that place."

Jack paced back and forth. "No human can go against that damn monster," he cursed. "We need a witcher."

"We'll get someone to post a notification in the city tomorrow." The villagers who heard Jack nodded. "Can't risk that monster attacking us."

It had been a tense night. The village chief went to everyone's house and woke them up to warn them about the monster. Kaer's peace was broken by the sudden news of the danger in the cemetery, and everyone was worried. On the other hand, Roy was sent back home, but his fever wouldn't come down, and he fell into a coma.

Chapter 10

Roy stayed in a groggy state for two days. His fever went down on the third, and he woke up. Moore and Susie heaved a sigh of relief. Melitele knew how worried they were over the last few nights, especially after they saw One-Eyed Jack and Thompson injured and bloodied. They thought they'd lose Roy again.

Susie sat on the haystack and held his hand, her chubby face filled with love. "Thompson told us what happened in the cemetery. You did your best, my son. Don't dwell too much on the matter, and don't even think you can fight that monster. Just rest up. We'd be devastated if we lost you."

Guilt welled up within Roy as he looked at his parents, who were concerned about him. They weren't getting any younger, but Roy remembered them taking turns tending to him when he was still feverish. They'd feed him softened food, keeping him healthy. He knew they must have been deprived of sleep for a few days.

Roy knew his parents were worried for him, but he had no choice. The Northern War was still a few years away, but there was already a monster lurking in the cemetery, threatening the village's peace.

Dammit. This is bad. The disasters and dangers of the world wouldn't wait for him to grow. He had to strike out on his own if he wanted a chance to survive. Roy didn't want to go through the helplessness he felt when he faced the monster again. "What did the chief say, dad?"

"He went to ask the ruler for help two days ago."

Moore sounded uncertain. They knew the ruler of Lower Posada was no kind person. He wouldn't care about a death or two in a rural village like Kaer. It was normal for people to die. The only time he showed any enthusiasm was during the tax season, where he'd send his soldiers to make sure everyone paid their dues. But if any monsters were to show up, they'd be the first to run. The most he would do was send someone to ask about the situation and forget about it.

"The people that went with him posted a notice on the city's bulletin board. A witcher might take the job in a month or two. They'll come eventually. Don't worry."

Roy sighed, still feeling uneasy. He was stiff from lying on the bed for two days, and he wanted to walk around the village, maybe even visit Jack in his inn. However, Susie and Moore insisted that he lay back down, and Roy only managed to get out at noon.

When he came out, Kaer felt different. There was barely anyone in the streets, and those who were going around were in a hurry, worry hanging on their faces. The villagers who mingled and chatted were nowhere to be seen, and the fields outside looked forlorn, for nobody toiled them.

Most of the villagers were hiding in their homes, only taking a nervous peep outside once in a while. Everyone was worried that the monster in the cemetery would come to the village, so they stopped working for the time being. As Roy went around the village, he heard the cries of babies and the sound of people arguing in the rickety houses. An eerie chill ran up his spine as he felt fear and tension hang low in the air.

The abandoned, cobwebbed bulletin board in the village center was cleaned, and a notice for a job hung there. Roy couldn't read it, for he was illiterate.

When he came to the inn, Jack was sitting before the bar counter, alone and spaced out.

A clean, white bandage covered the wounds on his waist, and the strong scent of herbs filled the air. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, and he looked harried. Losing in an instant the good friend he'd known for decades took its toll on him. He aged ten years overnight, and his hair grayed further. The proud gleam in his good eye was gone, replaced by a deep, dark void.

"You're here, child. Feeling better?"

"Yes." Roy sat beside him. "Much better." Then he trailed off. He didn't know what he should say, for they deserted their friends that night.

"Here, have a drink." Agony flashed in his eyes, and he poured two glasses of wine. The strong scent of alcohol assailed Roy's nose, and he knew it wasn't the sweet fruit wine he usually had. "My drinking buddy's gone. Ain't nobody gonna guzzle that dwarven liquor and play Gwent matches with me anymore."

"To Seeger."

Roy was shaken, and he gulped all the liquor down. He almost choked on it, but he endured the alcohol. It numbed his pain and sadness, but it also lit a fire within him, and he came to a decision. "One more. This time for Fletcher." Roy took a deep breath and paused. "And that snotty brat."

Jack didn't stop Roy until he got red from the alcohol, and they spoke about the recent happenings.

The chief had sent someone to the military camp in Lower Posada's city to ask for help, but unsurprisingly, the request was rejected. Roy had expected that. The military wouldn't get involved unless a large scale monster attack or bandit invasion broke out.

Susie and Moore had also kept something else from him a secret. Four Kaer villagers had died.

Aside from Fletcher, Brandon, and Seeger, another villager went missing over the last two days. The young man, in all his naivety, went to the cemetery alone in the evening, and never returned. He must have encountered that monster, and most people would only get slaughtered by it.

Roy wanted to say something, but after seeing how much of a wreck Jack was, he swallowed his words and left the inn.

He used to be a game addict, and he knew what that creature in the cemetery was. It was trapped in their dimension by the Conjunction of the Spheres. In fact, he knew of all the monsters that had been trapped in their dimension by that event. After recalling the incident that occurred, Roy was fairly certain that the monster lurking in the cemetery was a grave hag. It was a monster who would suck the marrow from its prey with its unbelievably long tongue. If they'd devoured all the available corpses, some of the more aggressive ones would begin hunting in human territory. They would capture humans and bury them alive, only consuming them when the bodies had rotted.

That was besides the point. The point was, Roy knew the grave hag's weakness. Grave hags usually built their nests near cemeteries, and the one in the eastern cemetery took over Granbell's cabin. Their weakness was the sun, making them feeble during the day.

But even if he told that to the villagers, they would most likely not buy it. Even if they did, it was impossible for him to explain how he knew the monster's weakness. If he couldn't cobble up a team of ten or more, fighting a weakened grave hag would still be a losing battle.

Seeger and Fletcher had no family in the village who could inherit their belongings. Susie didn't count, for she was thrice removed.

Their belongings were in the chief's custody. Once their deaths were confirmed, Roy knew part of it would be taken by the chief, part by the soldiers for the ruler, and part for the reward for the witcher. A hundred crowns for the job, huh? The money and precious belongings were taken away by the chief, but they still had some other items in their houses.

Roy snuck into Seeger's house and looted it. There were fifty bolts, a steel sword that was mostly new, a torch, oil, and a few coils of sturdy rope. Roy kept it all in his inventory. And when he went to Fletcher's place, Roy took dozens of pounds of meat and put it in his inventory too. Everything was kept fresh there, and the food would never rot.

Much to his delight, he even managed to find a small bag of yellow powder in a cabinet. Fletcher used the powder as an anesthetic. A nail's amount would paralyze a two-hundred-pound creature in a few minutes after it was fed the powder with water. It was also the key to his plan.

His inventory space was filled after putting those items in. Finally, Roy took the short blade Fletcher used over the years to butcher countless animals. It was as long as Roy's forearm, and it was curved at the end. The edge was ivory, but the blade and spine was blackish brown. It was the dried blood of the animals he'd butchered over the years. No matter how anyone cleaned it, the blood couldn't be washed away.

Uncle Fletcher, Seeger, and snotty brat. If I have the chance, I swear, I will cut that bastard's head off with this blade, Roy promised silently. I will avenge all of you.

The battle with the wolf pack and grave hag changed Roy. His brush with death made him realize that he was no longer in the safe world he used to be in. Any attempt at peace by running away from the danger would only cause untold misery. After Fletcher's death, Roy lost his stable EXP income, and he decided to go with the faster, riskier way to gain it.

The cemetery was located east of the village. The grave hag should've been consuming the corpses of the four dead villagers for some time, and not have recently left the cemetery to hunt, Roy thought.

However, Roy wanted to be careful. Instead of hunting east, he decided to hunt west, in the forest not far from the village.

He staked out in the daytime to observe his surroundings. He then picked a tree and prepared for his hunt. When Susie and Moore were sound asleep at night, Roy tiptoed out of his home. After the night patrol had gone to the other side of the village, he snuck out and went to the tree he saw during the day.

Roy hung raw meat smeared with anesthetics on a branch. He made it bloody and made sure the scent would go for miles, all so his prey could get attracted easily. When he was done, Roy scampered up the tree and lit the torch embedded in the branches. He took Gabriel out, loaded it, closed his eyes, and waited in silence.

Roy kept taking deep breaths throughout his watch. He was worried he might attract a horror of the night, but he was also worried it might end up being a wild goose chase. Even so, he had to go on. He couldn't go back after coming so far.

As the moon crept above the forest, its silvery light shone upon a young, resolved face. Roy pursed his lips and slowed his breathing. After another hour of nervous wait, he heard the barks of dogs from afar, and he knew his plan had worked.

A group of starving, rabid dogs darted out from the bushes and fought for the meat tied on the branch. Their drool spewed everywhere, tainting the ground with their bloodied saliva as they clawed at one another for more meat. Two of the dogs even started tearing into each other for it. When they finished everything, they bared their bloody fangs at Roy, who was on the tree, and barked furiously.

Roy was annoyed by the beasts. He thought they might've had rabies, though he wasn't afraid of them. They couldn't climb the tree anyway. 𝚋𝚎ｄｎｏｖ𝚎𝚕．𝚌ｏｍ

"Come and bite me if you can, curs," he mocked, looking down from the branch he was on. At the same time, he pulled the crossbow's trigger and shot at the beasts. Roy even put some of the anesthetic on the bolts to make sure he made the kill.

Shooting under those conditions was exactly like a few days earlier, when he was protected by the villagers. Roy had the high ground, and after the battles from that night, he'd grown as a combatant, and he didn't tremble as he held the crossbow. His accuracy increased, and he killed two of the dogs with three bolts.

When the remaining dogs realized something was wrong, they wanted to escape, but the anesthetic had already started taking effect. Before they could make ten feet, the beasts had already fallen.

Roy didn't climb down to claim his kill. Instead, he stayed on the tree and made his shots until three messages about EXP gain showed up on his character sheet. That meant the dogs were dead.

'Level 1 (123/500).'

"50 EXP. So dogs provide the same EXP as wolves. Well, this is quicker than being a butcher's apprentice. Eight more times like this, and I'll have leveled up."

As Roy looked at the bodies covered in bolts, a feeling of depression weighed down on him. Alas, no pain, no gain. At least his actions weren't for nothing.

He rested for a while on the tree. After confirming the coast was clear, Roy came down to retrieve his bolts and tools before dragging the carcasses of the dogs onto the hard ground beside him. He piled them up, smeared them in oil, burned them, and went back to the village.

His operation went without a hitch. The beasts surprised him, but it was nothing to be worried about. Roy even had time to wipe the stench of blood off him.

Over the next few weeks, Roy hunted every night. He'd have beasts coming for his bait once every three days during the first two weeks.

He saw different animals coming for the meat. Dogs, wolves, foxes, boars, and even bears. The bears towered over all the beasts Roy had ever seen. It came for the food and went back into the murky forest quickly, and Roy didn't give chase. Each of those beasts provided ten EXP at most. After using up the meat in his inventory space, he carved some out of his prey.

Thanks to him being the butcher's apprentice, cutting meat came easily.

His hunt went smoothly in the beginning, but eventually, he ran into trouble. Even though he would change hunting spots every time he set a trap, the beasts started to stay away from his bait after half a month. Roy had even scoured the entire forest from north to south.

After two weeks, the frequency went down from once in three days to once in five. Apparently, the beasts had their guards up. His EXP gaining speed saw a decline, but eventually, Roy filled his EXP bar a month later, after he shot one final dog dead.

Chapter 11

Roy woke up on a haystack one morning.

After one long month of endless hunting, he finally saw the plus sign on the right side of his EXP bar.

'Level 1 (503/500).'

He finally managed to gain 500 EXP, and he had a pair of heavy dark circles under his eyes. Though he didn't manage to gain any ranged weapon skills, he was happy about the level up.

Aside from that, his weaker stats saw an increase too. Strength grew from 4.2 to 4.3, Constitution from 4.1 to 4.2, and Will from 4.5 to 4.6. Obviously the growth rate had declined compared to last month.

Dexterity, Charisma, Spirit, and Perception showed no growth, and he realized that any stat exceeding five points wouldn't show any increase unless he had special training or conditions.

Massacre was still level 2. Killing more than 40 animals wasn't enough to level it up.

As Roy concentrated on his EXP bar and willed himself to level up, the EXP bar changed, and a message appeared.

'Level: 2 (3/1000)

You gain 1 attribute point, and 1 skill point.'

He added the attribute point into Perception. After experiencing that magical feeling of control once more, Roy's Perception turned from six to seven. It was the highest amongst his stats, and another message showed up on the character sheet.

'You have unlocked a new function.

Unnamed level 1: Your Perception has gone beyond the limits of an average human, evolving into a sixth sense. You may gain your target's basic information through a special observation method. The higher the target's perception, the stronger it will suppress your skill, and the less information you will get from them.

Level 1: Increases your Perception by 1 when you observe your targets.'

Roy paused for a moment. I can get a skill when I level up my stat to a certain point? Huh, never expected that. The new skill came as a surprise for him.

It was a tactical one. If he could observe his enemies in silence and get their basic information as well as their skills before a fight, Roy could come up with some strategies to take out his enemies efficiently. The higher his Perception, the further his range. He could, theoretically, stay in the dark a few miles away and know everything about his enemies before they fought.

The possibility of that happening excited him, and he thought about how he could pick out his enemies' weak points from a thousand feet away and shoot them from that range.

Damn. If that happens…

Roy willed a name change and called his new skill 'Observe.' He wouldn't spend his skill point for the time being. Roy wanted to test his new skill before deciding to invest it in level 2 Massacre or level 1 Observe.

Thompson and Jack were good practice targets for his skill. Roy told his parents where he would be going, and he left merrily. Not long after going out, he noticed the streets looking lively — a stark contrast to the air of despair the village had earlier. Dozens of villagers surrounded the bulletin board in the city center, and they buzzed with excitement.

It was as if the terror brought by the grave hag had never existed. Roy was curious about their delight, and he went to the square.

"The witchers are here! We're saved!"

Three travelers stood amongst the crowd, and Roy noticed they were different, for their features and attire were outstanding.

The man on the left side of the bulletin board had a red headband on his forehead. He had a cool expression, and his features were defined and sculpted. The man on his right covered half his face under a grey hood, the laugh lines on his cheeks running deep, and a faint smile danced on his lips. He looked slightly similar to the man with the red tie, and Roy thought they must've been related. Both men stood at six feet tall.

PR/N: Six feet is around 1.83 meters.

The third man was bald, his head gleaming under the sun. He had an aquiline nose, a pair of sunken eyes, and a stern expression. He was a towering giant whose muscles were as hard as rocks. He stood over six feet four, and his arms were crossed. The bald man loomed over everyone, suffocating those around him by just standing there.

PR/N: Six feet four is around 1.93 meters.

The trio wore black armor decorated with crisscrossing claw marks and dried blood. A satchel the size of a fist was tied to their belts, and Roy saw vials hanging on the potion belt that was thrown over their shoulders. A pair of crossing short swords were strapped to their breastplates, and a few finger-length daggers hung from their leg armor.

Peculiar necklaces dangled in front of the witchers' chest. It was in the shape of a viper rearing its head back, forming a mysterious, complex sign.

Their swords measured four feet four long, and slept in a black sheath. Arguably the most peculiar thing about the trio were their eyes. They were amber in color, just like the eyes of cats. They looked bizarre and terrifying.

PR/N: Four feet four is around 1.32 meters.

Roy stared at the bald man, who was leading the trio. He thought he looked familiar, and something swirled within Roy's eyes.

A moment later, a translucent information page appeared out of thin air above the bald man's head.

'Letho

Gender: Male

Age: 80

Status: Witcher (Viper School)

Underwent three mutations when he was a child. Endured the Trial of the Grasses. Possesses extraordinary speed, strength, reflexes, coordination, life force, and regenerative abilities.

Has received professional training in swordsmanship, alchemy, and has knowledge of the bestiary.

Possesses a formidable immune system. Is immune to most plagues and diseases. Can resist most lethal poisons.

Mastered the witcher signs (pseudo spells). Possesses a long life, but is sterile.

HP: ? (Unable to retrieve information. Requires higher Perception)

Mana: ?

Strength: ?

Dexterity: ?

Constitution: ?

Perception: 19

Will: 10

Charisma: 6

Spirit: 10

Skill:

Alchemy level ? (Unable to retrieve skill level. Requires higher Perception): Crafting skill. Allows the user to create oils, potions, poisons, and bombs.

Witcher Senses level ?: After the Trial of the Grasses, a witcher's senses will undergo a mutation that will strengthen them. Their five senses are linked to their instincts, allowing them to 'see' scents and voices. It also lets them discover tracks or clues that are usually impossible to see.

Meditation level ?: Training for the body and soul. Meditating calms the witcher's body and mind, hastening the regeneration of their body, mana, and stamina. Improves coordination over time and raises affinity with chaos energy.

Viper School — Dual Wielding level ?: A skill created by a Viper School witcher through a century of development. Allows the witcher to dual wield daggers during combat against monsters. A secret skill not taught in other schools.

Witcher Signs level ?: After their mutations, witchers that had no affinity with chaos energy would awaken their ability to cast simple pseudo spells. Signs are the core abilities of witchers. No incantation or materials needed. A mere hand gesture is enough to expand their mana and activate the signs.

There are five signs:

Quen: Creates a protective shield that blocks any attack.

Aard: Casts a telekinetic force that knocks enemies back and destroys obstacles.

Igni: Casts a stream of fire from the palm that expands into a cone.

Yrden: Summons a magical trap that lowers the speed and reflex of anyone (aside from the user) that enters. Effective against phantom type, incorporeal creatures.

Axii: Hypnotizes and controls the target, forcing it to do as the user wishes.

The strength of Signs depends on the Spirit stat and skill level.

Other: ?'

By the gods!

Roy was shocked after reading through Letho's information. "So this is a witcher? Their skills and stats are way over the top. And he's an eighty-year-old man? Are you kidding me?"

Letho was already eighty years old, but he looked not a day over thirty-five. The body under that armor was strong, taut, and full of vigor. Roy could practically smell his life force from where he stood. It had a tang of blood in it.

Most of Letho's stats and skills couldn't be seen because Roy's Perception wasn't high enough. If Roy didn't know better, he'd have said Letho was a beast in human's skin.

So the witchers are as strong as they say. Saw them a lot in the game, but meeting them in real life is a shock to me.

Letho and his companions are from the Viper school. It was then that Roy remembered where he'd seen Letho. He realized that the trio before him would assassinate the kings of Aedirn, Temeria, and Kaedwen in a few years. Everyone knew of them as the assassins from the Viper School, the Kingslayers.

Why'd they come up to the north instead of staying in Nilfgaard, where their base is located?

Letho's eyes were calm, but also dark. They swept over everyone before announcing, "I am Letho, a witcher from the Viper School." His voice was clear, deep, and appealing. "They're my companions, Serrit and Auckes. We'll be taking this job, but we'll need more information to decide on our pay."

The wizened chief heaved a sigh of relief after hearing Letho's announcement. "At least you're not from the Cat School. Viper School is good enough." The village chief looked reassured, as if he'd had bad encounters with the witchers from the Cat School before.

As the chief was about to say something, a scraggy boy pushed through the throng and went up to the witchers. "I saw that monster. I can tell you all about it." The boy who spoke up was Roy.

The witchers went to Ol' Captain's Inn with him and asked for some ale before they listened to the testimonies of the survivors, who were Roy, Jack, and Thompson. They described the horrifying events in detail.

"It's a grave hag," Letho said, arriving at the conclusion without hesitating. "That's worth at least a hundred crowns. Roy, is it? Tell the chief to prepare the bounty. We'll attack at high noon, when the sun's the strongest. If it goes without a hitch…" He pointed at the grandfather clock in the corner with his pudgy finger. "We'll return with the trophy before three."

Letho's expression didn't change throughout the explanation, as if the killing of the monster was a trivial matter. But Roy knew that might not be what Letho was feeling. Some witchers would end up with a perpetual poker face after the Trial of the Grasses. They could never show any expression, but they would still be as emotional and sensitive as anyone else.

I mean, Geralt always has a poker face too, but he can be passionate, like C-137 Rick.

Perhaps annoyed by the fact Roy was staring at them for a long time, the grumpy Serrit snapped at him. "Have you never seen a witcher, boy? Why are you looking at us that way? Do you think we're scums? Or horrors from hell?"

"Oh, no. On the contrary, I think witchers can be trusted with our lives." Roy looked into Serrit's amber eyes sincerely, baring his affection for witchers in the open.

He spent many hours playing as a witcher, and it was an unforgettable experience. Roy even dived into the lore of the Witcher series so he could know more about the game and its story. He knew the witchers like the back of his hand.

Fate was cruel on them. Most of them were taken in because wars made them orphans. Left with nowhere to go, the schools adopted them. Some, though, were given away by their parents as compensation for witchers that died during missions.

Fun was nonexistent after they started living in the witcher schools. They were isolated from the world, and all their time was occupied by treacherous training that could drive anyone insane. If they wanted to explore the world, they would have to pass the Trial of the Grasses, but the death rate was impossibly high.

They took requests from ordinary humans and risked their lives killing monsters, all so they could make a living off the bounties they received. But they were ostracized by everyone because of their bizarre looks and extraordinary battle prowess.

Everyone thought they were uncaring, evil, heralds of hell, but only Cat School witchers and specific individuals would kill the innocent. Most witchers were reputable, upright people, but they were spared no warmth by the humans.

Witchers could only find solace amongst themselves. After they picked themselves up, it was another day of fighting monsters. A witcher's life was filled with battles, and there they would meet their end. None died peacefully. The witchers were legendary, but also cursed by fate.

Roy said from his heart, "Witchers have saved innocent lives from monsters. You guys are better than those soldiers who take our money, but do nothing."

"Hah." Serrit, as if hearing something funny, smiled stiffly, but it didn't hide the mockery in his eyes. "Been a while since I heard someone praise us like that. Don't waste our time, kid. Tell us what you really want."

Roy put on a serious look. "I want to go with you on the mission at noon."

Serrit stood up. "Impossible," he said, refusing. "We're hunting a monster here, not a harmless animal. We don't have time to keep an eye on you."

"Listen to me, please." Roy mustered his sincerity. "My friend, and teacher who taught me my trade were killed by that bastard. I want to kill it with my own hands, and I see it even in my dreams. You can understand how I feel, can't you?"

Serrit and his companions looked at each other. "No, child. You're wrong. Witchers don't have feelings."

Serrit was still refusing him.

Jack, who had been quiet for a while, interjected. "Witchers, Roy may be young, but he has a steady hand, and he works well with the crossbow. Take him to the cemetery with you. He can watch from afar and shoot bolts whenever he has the chance. There'd be no danger to it. If you think he's still more trouble than he's worth, I'll add fifty crowns on top of the reward the chief promised."

Roy gawked at Jack, surprised he was helping instead of stopping him. And fifty crowns wasn't a small sum.

He took the chance and guaranteed, "I won't be a bother, I promise. I can stay back and wait for your command to shoot."

"You're just a young human boy. Why would you want to face that monster? What's your reason?" Letho, the bald witcher, bored his eyes into Roy, and the boy felt like he was being seen through. The amber twinkle from Letho's eyes made his heart skip nervously. After a short while of silence, he said, "Fine. We agree to your request, but only because you're adding fifty crowns on top of the bounty."

Chapter 12

Letho had seen everything throughout his years of being a witcher, but not once had he seen a child as peculiar as Roy. Not only was Roy unafraid of witchers, but he also didn't avoid them like the plague, unlike everyone else. Letho wasn't kidding. Many children would cry in fear after seeing a witcher's peculiar looks.

Roy, however, had no such fear or disgust. He had a weird look in his eyes. Letho thought it resembled affection, or even admiration.

I'm getting old. Sentimentality isn't like me. Letho fell into a trance, but he kept his poker face.

Letho harkened back to the days of his younger self. He'd still been a young boy when someone had come to his hometown of Gulet and brought him to Gorthur Gvaed, the Viper School's stronghold in Tir Tochair.

Back then, Letho hadn't gone through the Trial of the Grasses yet. He'd look at his mentor — Ivar Evil-Eye, the founder of Viper School — as he stood on the lectern and taught the Viper School disciples the knowledge of witchers, and his life experience.

He used to have the same look of admiration in his eyes that Roy did, but time showed him no mercy. A few decades ago, Ivar Evil-Eye went missing when he was hunting down a garkain. At the same time, Cat School witchers had been massacring humans on a whim, and it had garnered bad press from the people. Bereaved by the loss of their founder and the hatred from the people, Viper School went into a decline, and fewer people came to Gorthur Gvaed.

The only witchers of the Viper School left were him, Serrit, Auckes, and two others whose trails were unknown. Over the last twenty years, none of the disciples managed to pass the Trial of the Grasses.

We have to revive the Viper School, kill our nemesis, and find Ivar Evil-Eye. Those were Letho's wishes, and the reason for their activity in the Northern Realms. When he came back to the present, he gave Roy a gentle look.

It had been a sunny day, praise Melitele.

The trio made meticulous preparations before they went for the hunt. After all, no human could master their skills even if they'd wanted to, and they didn't keep that a secret from Roy.

They took out a vial of amber goo from the satchels they kept on their belts, and poured it on the short swords taken from their breastplates. The witchers spread it evenly and slowly, but their movements were still enthusing.

After their short swords had been coated in amber, they checked and double checked the potions on their potion belts, the amount they had left, and how much they could afford to use. Then they tied colorful alchemy bombs where they could easily reach it.

It was already noon when everything was done. After the witchers had departed the village, Roy snuck out at the promised hour behind his parents' back. At the same time, a few curious villagers came along.

Half an hour later, Roy finally made it to the cemetery after a long sprint. He was huffing and puffing as he held his stomach, and he bent over and retched. The witchers looked at the cemetery not far away from them, and they heightened their sight to observe their surroundings.

"Stay here, Roy. We'll call you once we defeat the hag."

"Please let me kill that bastard myself, witchers."

Letho didn't answer. He, Auckes, and Serrit took out a vial filled with a brown potion and gulped it down. The moment they did, the blood vessels on their faces turned black and squirmed. Their faces were contorted, and the murder in their eyes was almost palpable.

Roy shivered, but not from the cold.

Letho started moving, and in spite of his size, the man's actions were as fluid and as quiet as a cat as he bent down and darted into the cemetery. Not a soul stirred, not a leaf rustled. Serrit and Auckes went to the rear and followed Letho. 𝓫𝓮𝒹𝓷ℴ𝓿ℯ𝓵.𝓬ℴ𝓶

The cemetery was laid bare for all to see under the sunlight. It looked tranquil, quiet, and even holy, as rays of light sprinkled upon the tombstones. But beside the skeletal remains of the dead, all the witchers could see when they looked closer were two dried corpses that had turned greyish-brown. From its structure, they deduced that the body had belonged to a tall, sturdy male adult, but it was rotten beyond recognition. The witchers couldn't discern who he was.

The wounds on the body told of a great struggle before the victim met his fate. Bones were fractured in multiple places, and there were holes on every joint, apparently bored through by a sharp object.

After the analysis, Letho closed his eyes quietly, and his nose wrinkled as he searched for clues. Not even the rotten stench from the corpses could stop him from finding the monster's tracks. A short while later, he set his eyes on the cabin in the cemetery's center. Letho took out a transparent headspace vial and continued his search around the locked cabin.

Grave hags fear the sun. They would cover up any places that would let the light into their nests. No sunlight should pierce through their hideout, but this cabin was prepared for the gravekeeper. There must be an entrance somewhere.

Letho found the window a few moments later, but the grave hag had covered it with mud. It's not rock. This will work. Letho threw his knife and easily made an opening before chucking his alchemy bomb into the hole.

The smashing of the glass window was heard, and Letho darted back without hesitating. He leaped onto the roof, not unlike a cat. He then signaled to his teammates, and Auckes and Serrit, who were already waiting, dashed to the cabin's front door, waiting to flank the creature once it came out.

Serrit made two triangles with his left hand that resembled an hourglass in the air and pushed it forward. A faint, white light shot up into the air, and a ten foot radius magical circle appeared on the ground, flashing softly.

Auckes made a sign in the shape of an upright triangle with his right hand, but he didn't push it out yet. He was waiting for the opening.

A moment later, the door was kicked open with a loud bang, and the misshapen, lumpy creature shot out into the open. The moment it took its first step, it slammed into an invisible wall. It trembled for a moment, and fell face first.

That was the opening Auckes was waiting for. He pushed the Igni sign forward, and a stream of fire erupted from his palm, expanding out into a cone, and the flames licked the fallen monster. Before it came out, the grave hag had already been splattered with oil by the bomb Letho tossed into the cabin. Igni's fire quickly traveled along its body, turning the monster into a writhing torch.

Tortured by the pain of the fire, the grave hag let out a shrill scream. It raised its gnarly arms and with its body, tried to break the magical barrier Auckes had erected.

It was then that someone leaped down from the roof and stood before the grave hag. What awaited the monster was a barrage of slashes. The short sword cut through the creature without mercy, drawing arcs across its body ten times in a moment. The weapon glinted cruelly as it circled it, slowly whittling its life down with every cut.

Roy was watching from afar, and no matter how he did it, he still couldn't see the witchers' movement clearly. It was far too swift for him. Letho was the only one attacking the grave hag, but Roy saw three afterimages around it.

A few grueling moments later, the grave hag fell down helplessly. Most of its body was burnt and cut by the blades. After, its limbs broke off from its body, as if realizing they had been cut off one second too late. What was left was a limbless creature, squirming and hanging on to life by a thread.

Auckes went up to it and pressed down on its back with his kneecap. He had a glove over his right hand, and he quickly yanked something from the grave hag's mouth. It was a long, thin, prickled tongue out. And ignoring the monster's ghastly wails, Auckes cut it off and tossed it into a canister he'd prepared.

Letho took out a blue cloth from his satchel and wiped the green blood off his short sword, his movements gentle and meticulous. The grave hag was severely injured, but Letho didn't suffer any wounds at all. He was as calm and collected as the moment Roy met him. Nay, he didn't even break a sweat. It was as if he wasn't the one doing battle with the monster.

The battle had come to an end at that point. The witcher with the red headband, Serrit, called Roy to join them, and he came out of his hiding spot. "This monster is still living, but barely. As per our agreement, the kill shall be yours." Serrit looked at the crossbow Roy was holding. "Will you be ending its misery with that?"

As Roy came closer to look at the limbless creature, he was at a loss for words. He had prepared a speech, but the visual impact made him forget about it.

Even though he knew of the witchers' strength, and was prepared to see them easily kill a monster, their skills still blew his mind. The whole battle only lasted two minutes. Before anyone could warm up for the show, the deed was already done.

The monster that had killed Seeger, Fletcher, and Brandon so easily was now a mere sitting duck before the Kingslayers. Ironic. I should show some respect though. This is vengeance, after all.

Roy had hunkered down and unsheathed the short sword on his back. He'd found it in Fletcher's house. He stuck the edge on the grave hag's nape and looked at the pair of corpses in the cemetery. He put on a mirthless smile and shouted to the heavens, "You're avenged, Uncle Fletcher, Seeger, snotty brat!"

Roy made one final slash, separating the grave hag's head from its lifeless body, and the big, ugly thing rolled toward Letho. At the same time, a new message appeared on Roy's character sheet. 'You have killed a grave hag. EXP gained: 100 (103/1000).' This monster gives ten times the EXP a beast would?

Chapter 13

Letho took out a gleaming dagger and cut up the grave hag. His movements were as fluid as those of a butcher who had complete understanding of the anatomy of all livestock. Letho cut out its eyes, ears, and those mysterious lumps. He laid them out in a neat row on his blue cloth, then dug out a few twisted, misshapen pieces of meat and shook them. "Lucky find. This hag's mutagen is ripe enough to make some potions."

"What are those, witcher?"

Letho gave Roy silent praise after the boy asked him the question. He killed that grave hag in its death throes without even blinking, and he didn't even look away when we dismembered it. What an oddity. Anyone else would have vomited their stomachs out. Including adults. Roy's bravery and courage piqued Letho's interest. "This one has potential."

Letho pointed at the parts he cut out, telling Roy their names and explaining their use to him patiently. Roy listened in silence, frowning occasionally as he mulled over what the witcher told him.

"Right, Roy. Do you have a family?" Letho asked, sounding nonchalant.

"I'm living with my parents."

Letho was disappointed to hear that, and he hastened the dismembering of the grave hag.

The gas from Letho's bomb, which had been thrown into the cabin earlier, had dissipated after an hour, and they entered the late gravekeeper's abode.

What was once a place humans could comfortably stay in was now an eerie, horrifying hellhole. Filthy mud covered the walls, roof, and floor of the place. Some of it even dripped off the ceiling like glue. The abode, once warm and well-lit, was now humid and dark. Here and there, canisters and bizarre containers lay haphazardly. The grave hag seemed to have been making something before it had met its grisly end. The bones of humans and small creatures hung on the mud-caked walls.

After Roy saw what was hanging on the innermost wall, he rushed to it.

"Brandon."

Nothing was left of the fat, snotty child who used to pester him about magic tricks, save for his rotten corpse. It was pierced by a black spear, making him a human flag.

The eyes on his dried, sunken head were gouged out, leaving two gaping holes that stared back at Roy. His mouth was open in fear, and Roy could imagine the terror he'd felt when he was alive.

Roy closed his eyes and took a deep breath before taking the corpse down carefully. He hugged it without any feeling of disgust, as if he couldn't smell the stench of mold and rotten meat. "I'm sorry. If I had been more patient and didn't say that to you…"

Then, a big, warm hand patted his shoulder. "Be at peace. You have avenged them," the witcher consoled him, which was a rare case.

A short while later, Roy buried the corpses of Seeger, Fletcher, and Brandon. With the help of the witchers, he managed to finish their tombstones.

'Here lies Seeger, the blacksmith of Kaer, the son of Skellige.

His courage was proven in battle.

Died September 1260 in a valiant battle against a grave hag.'

The other grave had two names carved on them.

'Fletcher, butcher of Kaer.

A loving father who chose to show but not tell it.

Brandon, friend of the Rooster Slayer, future bard and magician.

He shall shine as bright as a star in the kingdom of Melitele.

Died September 1260.'

After laying the dead to rest, Roy went back to the village with the witchers. Susie and Moore came up to him in tears, and they insisted on giving him a checkup. The witchers brandished the ugly head of the grave hag, showing it to the villagers before taking their reward from the village chief and One-Eyed Jack.

The cemetery monster crisis had come to an end with the grave hag's death, but something else happened.

Much to the surprise of the villagers, the witchers didn't immediately leave after receiving the reward. Instead, they went to the inn and stayed in a room.

After the grave hag had been killed, the villagers had directed their fear toward the witchers. Whispers traveled the village, most of them showing their disgust and hatred toward them.

"The monster's killed, and they took their reward. Why aren't those mutants leaving?"

"Look at them. They look evil. This can't go on, chief. You have to find a way to chase them out. We can only let them stay for one night at most."

"Parents, beware. Don't sleep these next couple of nights. At least wait until they leave. I heard witchers love to take kids away and turn them into disgusting mutants."

When Roy heard the ignorant words of prejudice from the villagers, he shook his head in disdain and left the crowd. He went to the inn where the witchers were chugging ale and chatting with Jack. To be precise, Jack was the one doing the talking, bragging about his Gwent skills.

Jack, who had stayed on the Skellige Isles for decades, didn't have the same inexplicable hatred for the witchers, unlike the villagers.

"That damned brat, Roy. It's impossible for someone to be that skilled in Gwent. He won sixty crowns from me. Sixty! Witchers, you're better than me in Gwent. Can you teach that brat a lesson for me?"

An hour later, Letho's perpetual poker face faltered for a moment, and he took out a handful of crowns from his satchel. "Fifteen crowns." He sighed. "That's a tenth of the reward gone."

"Alright, child. You've won your crowns, now let us talk business. You do not fear us, and you approach us of your own volition. Why is that? Are you interested in the tale of witchers? Which one would you like to hear?"

Letho and his companions exchanged glances and sat around Roy, their interrogatory gazes fixed on him.

Roy's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't hide his intentions. The boy smiled and told them honestly, "So you've realized. My goal is to become a witcher. If I'm right, you live long lives, are always healthy, never fall sick, and possess unimaginable strength."

Every Witcher 3 player had the dream of becoming a witcher. He could still remember what Flourens Delannoy wrote in his book "Fairy Tales and Stories".

"I wish for neither riches nor fame, neither power nor influence. I wish for a horse, as black and swift as a nightly gale. I wish for a sword, as bright and keen as a moonbeam. I wish to overstride the world on my black horse through the black night. I wish to smite the forces of Evil and Darkness with my luminous blade. This I would have."

Crossing over to the world of "The Witcher" was one of his wishes in life.

"Hold it," Serrit interjected. "If I'm understanding this correctly, you're saying you admire mutants? Is that true?" He looked at Roy closely. "Are you sure you aren't thirty, Roy?"

"Who told you witchers were admirable? Yes, we might be strong, long-living, and free from disease, but that doesn't mean we live admirable lives." Serrit chuckled. He rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his liquor. "Being a witcher is a curse," he spat, almost crazed. "We're shackled for life, doomed to a grisly death. You shouldn't envy us. It should be the other way around. People despise us because of what we are. You don't have to go through that. Our lives are filled with nothing but hatred and misery. One moment we're living, but the next, we might just be running for our lives."

Roy's face stiffened, and he moved backward. He couldn't get used to Serrit's grumpy demeanor, sharp retorts, and facial expressions. It was unbecoming of a witcher. Serrit acted much younger than his age. He's more like Lambert, Geralt's friend.

Letho and Auckes crossed their arms, keeping silent as Serrit tried to dissuade Roy.

"Boy, you're a good child, so here's some advice. Stay in the village. Give up on going on adventures and killing monsters. It's not every day someone will defeat the monsters for you so you can take the last hit." Serrit chugged some more liquor. "You'll know I'm doing this for your own good once you get married and have a child in a few years."

Oh, he thinks I killed the grave hag just to get a taste of adventure?

"Serrit is right," Letho agreed, but he sounded crestfallen. "If you want to be a witcher just because of the strength and monster killing, there is no need for further conversation. This is a path paved with pain, and pleasure is nowhere to be found. You have your own family, so just live your life as a normal human. Take that advice."

"But at least you can protect yourselves," Roy retorted, unwilling to give up. Before this, the only way he could've gained EXP was by taking great risks. But now, he was shown a more professional, comprehensive, and effective way to gain power. Roy felt the need to grab that chance, because he wouldn't get another. He could also see the witchers hesitating.

"If I'm stronger than an average human, I won't become prey to things like that monster. At least, I won't get dismembered like my friend and mentor were."

"Don't worry about it. I've been in the witcher business for years, and I can tell you this for sure." Auckes downed his beer and let out a hearty laugh. "Those monsters are going to thin out quickly, unless the Conjunction of the Spheres happens again. If it does, we'll have a monster crisis on our hands. If not, most monsters won't come to hunt in Kaer. Your village is going to enjoy many years of peace from now on. There is no reason to worry."

"But monsters aren't the only threats. Humans, disease, and wars are equally as dangerous." Roy's retort quieted the witchers.

A long while later, Serrit mocked, "You're one peculiar child. What's even in that head of yours? You're certainly acting older than your age — and by a lot — and you were showing bizarre signs in the cemetery. Are you a paranoid person? I've never seen anyone wish to become a witcher of their own volition. You're a fool."

"I'm just precautious." Roy drank some of the dwarven liquor, and the alcohol gave him liquid courage. "Whether you believe me or not, I've been dreaming about horrifying things since I was a child. All I see are bloody, unfortunate events burning the earth. The dreams have gotten more frequent over the last few years." Roy paused. "Something tells me a great war will come in three years, and bodies will pile as high as mountains. I think I should learn how to survive before that happens, eh? Witchers are fine mentors, or at least, that's what I think."

"You lie, child." Serrit scoffed. "That is but a story you've woven. You can dream of the future? But you're not a seer."

"I knew you wouldn't buy it." Roy shook his head and sighed. He wasn't lying, for the first Northern War would start in the year 1263, a mere three years away. Maybe the war has already started somewhere else.

"I just want to be that bit stronger. Enough to keep me and my family safe. I don't have to be as strong as veteran witchers. I just need to send Moore and Susie to Novigrad. They can live a better, safer life there."

Letho tapped the table with his pudgy fingers. "You don't know what witchers have to go through."

"I know of their infertility and the Trial of the Grasses. It's almost certain death."

Letho froze after hearing that, and his companions' expressions changed. "How do you know that? Have you run into other witches before?"

"I dreamed of it, but I guess you won't believe me."

"Of course we won't, but I can see you're serious about becoming a witcher," Letho answered solemnly. "You have one last chance to think this through, brat."

"No need for that. I've been thinking about this my whole life." Well, even if I train with witchers, it's not guaranteed I'll become one. Not a bad backup plan though.

Letho looked at his companions, who nodded at him. Then he extended his big hand toward Roy. "We'll be leaving Kaer tomorrow. Will you come with us then, brat?"

Roy shook Letho's gigantic hand, but he pretended to hesitate. "Yes, but not now. I need to make enough money and settle my parents in Novigrad — "

"If you can trust us, Serrit and Auckes will escort your parents to Novigrad," Letho interjected, and he waved his hand at Roy. "They have business in that city. You got one thing right: Novigrad is safer than Kaer." Letho had given him the answer he'd wanted.

"Say, what do you think of this?" Since Roy was going to be a trainee, Serrit changed his attitude toward him. He held the viper necklace up, and told Roy in earnest, "Auckes and I will set up a booth in Novigrad for your parents. They can open a business there and settle down faster. By the name of the Viper School, we promise you that."

"That's just what I need."

Roy observed the brothers closely, and heaved a sigh of relief after seeing that they weren't lying. That was the best outcome he could hope for. "But you'll be spending a lot of crowns by helping me."

Letho shrugged, dismissing Roy's worries. "No amount of crowns is more important than a great disciple for the Viper School. To tell you the truth, it's been twenty years since we've had any new recruits. No recruits, no deaths. And you performed well back in the cemetery. You're the only child I've seen approach a witcher of his own volition, and you're persistent. You might have a better chance of passing the trial. Yes, you're not the youngest, but it's better than nothing."

Chapter 14

Roy agreed to Letho's invitation. Being a witcher was not a bad choice for him, for he hadn't discovered any talent for being a mage.

Everything went mostly according to plan. The only deviation was instead of going to the familiar Wolf School, Roy was going to the Viper School, a school that was almost gone from history, and one that was known for its assassinations, poisons, and witchers who used short swords.

But Roy couldn't let the opportunity slip away. Staying in this remote village would hamper his growth. The village would have to face the Nilfgaardian invasion in the near future, and they might have to fend off new monsters. There were too many untold dangers if he stayed there.

Even if he trained for just three years, with a veteran witcher like Letho, Roy could grow stronger by leaps and bounds, and he could learn about the trade of witchers. If he managed to pass the Trial of the Grasses, his strength would spike. So what if I become sterile? Roy had never thought about having kids, even in his old world, let alone this new one.

Convincing his parents to move to Novigrad hadn't been a difficult task. They weren't even forty years old, and they looked forward to the big city life. They had no attachment to the village, unlike the elderly, though they were still nervous.

It was rare to have a witcher promise their mentorship, but Roy had a problem: his parents objected to him leaving their side.

Roy wasn't even fourteen. Even though children in medieval society grew up faster, no fourteen-year-old would leave their parents. The teens relied on them for survival, and no parent would want their child to risk their lives training with witchers.

Roy had to make up a lie. "Dad, Susie, I'm just a trainee, and I'm not going to get into any battles. Think of me as his assistant, like how I was when I worked for Uncle Fletcher. The job's different though. Witchers have lousy money management skills, and they don't know how to spend the money from their bounty. Most of the time, they use up all the crowns they earn in a year in a few days."

At least Roy wasn't lying about that part. Most witchers knew nothing about money management. Risking their lives for a living drilled the need for instant gratification into them. The moment they made money from requests, most would spend it on ale, brothels, or Gwent.

Regular maintenance of their gear and the purchasing of alchemy materials cost many crowns, and most witchers lived request to request. Geralt of Rivia was one of them. Sometimes, he even needed his friends to help him pay off some of his bills.

"I'm just going to manage his accounts. Think of me as a banker in Vivaldi's Bank. And we won't be separated for too long. I'll come to Novigrad to visit. I promise."

"You're lying, Roy, my boy. Since you were a babe, you never even learned how to read. How are you supposed to know how to count?"

Susie and Moore didn't believe Roy until he showed them some basic math formulas. Of course, that was thanks to Luo Yi.

Everyone was dumbfounded at the calculations, including the witchers. Susie and Moore couldn't refuse their son anymore, so they bought into his lie, and they cried at the thought of separation.

They spent a day packing all the valuables from their house, which only amounted to a few sets of clothes. They had to leave the land behind, because it wasn't theirs to possess. And then off to Novigrad they went, with the witchers escorting them.

Most of the villagers came out to watch the spectacle, but none of them bid a happy farewell. Most showed contempt and disgust.

Traditions of old had entrenched themselves deep within the souls of the villagers. To them, witchers were nothing but tools used to destroy monsters. Aside from that, they saw them as filthy mutants and harbingers of disaster. 𝒃𝙚𝒅𝒏𝙤𝙫𝒆𝒍．𝙘𝒐𝙢

Their prejudice against the witchers blinded them from seeing the reason Susie and Moore were following the witchers to Novigrad.

After their decision to move had spread throughout the village, many villagers came to dissuade them. Susie and Moore did hesitate, but Roy managed to convince them. He was a better decision maker than they were, and after what happened to Fletcher and Brandon, Roy was disappointed in the villagers.

Before his departure, Roy's only friend, One-Eyed Jack, came to see him off, and he patted Roy's head. "Time flies. You used to be a shy little lad, but now you're one brave, persistent little brat. I knew you'd leave this shithole of a place sooner or later. Ah, the light in your eyes reminds me of my younger days. I can see them speaking of ambition and secrets untold."

Really? Roy didn't think he was ambitious. He only wanted a bit of adventure.

"You ain't coming back after this, are you? I would've gone with you, but this bag o' bones can't take any more hits. Oh, right, since you avenged my dead drinking buddy, here's a farewell gift."

One-Eyed Jack handed a thirty five card Gwent deck to Roy reluctantly. "This is my prized possession — the Skellige deck. No hero cards in here, but all the rare cards are present. Take it with you, and show your skills to the world. I wish you the best. Those cities always have Gwent competitions going on, so go forth and conquer, kid."

Roy took the deck solemnly and placed it near his heart, then sent it into his inventory space. This whole deck is worth two hundred crowns, easy. Jack gave me one expensive gift.

"When you get to Novigrad, if you have the time, pay a visit to Number 320 on the east side of the river. If you see an old git named Frank, tell him I said hi."

After relaying his request, Jack gave Roy a hug that almost crushed the boy's ribs, and waved him goodbye.

As the white smoke over Kaer grew farther and farther, something stirred within Roy. Half of the soul within the body belonged to a boy who'd lived his entire life in that village. He was reluctant to leave, but that reluctance was swept away by the longing for a new adventure.

Moore and Susie had hugged Roy for a long time before bidding him a tearful goodbye.

Serrit and Auckes led them to the carriage, and they traveled north of Lower Posada, their first stop being the capital of Aedirn, Vengerberg. There, they would switch carriages and travel west, entering Redania through Temeria, and finally, reaching Novigrad. They could only do so by carriage, and it would take a month for them to reach their destination.

On the other hand, Letho and Roy were in casual attire, and they hopped onto a horse. Letho would take Roy with him, for the boy knew nothing about horse riding. They traveled west to the sea, zipping through Aldersberg and passing the Mahakam mountain range on the way. The pair's destination was the kingdom an ocean away from the Skellige Isles: Cintra.

They'd lied to Susie and Moore. The pair wouldn't visit Novigrad for the time being. Letho told Roy he'd need to collect the special herbs and mutagens needed for the Trial of the Grasses along the way. At the same time, he would mentor Roy and put him through tests. Letho himself would be going to conduct an investigation in Cintra. Once Susie and Moore were settled down, Auckes and Serrit would rendezvous with them there.

This trip is just what I need, Roy thought.

"Since we're in 1260, the Lion Cub of Cintra, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon should be around eight or nine years old. She's betrothed to Kistrin, the prince of Verden by now."

I wonder if Ciri's left home on her own yet. Roy wanted to see if Ciri was as unappealing as the paintings depicted her to be.

Chapter 15

"Here. Chew on this and put it over your wound." Letho tossed a flower with vermillion petals to Roy, his face inscrutable. As Letho looked at Roy — who was rubbing his leg in pain — his lips curled into a faint smile.

Letho had zipped across the land after their departure from Kaer, not stopping for dozens of miles. He'd only slowed to rest in the wilds when dusk had descended.

A burning pain was shooting up from Roy's inner thigh. When he looked into his trousers, a crimson pool was forming on his thighs where his skin was torn by rough fabric.

He'd lost 5 HP, and his character sheet showed 37/42 HP. Roy's constitution was worse than an average adult's. He wouldn't be able to ride a horse before his wound healed, which would take days.

I can't even ride a horse. Why'd I do this with witchers? They're superhumans. Am I dumb?

"What did you give me, Letho?" Roy's teeth chattered from the pain. He chomped on the herb in his mouth, grinding it to a pulp. It had a fine, refreshing flavor, unlike most herbs, which had bitter tastes.

"Marigold. Ever heard of it?" Letho tossed a piece of firewood into the campfire, and the flames crackled. "Kills the pain and prevents infection. You can find it outside of towns. They grow everywhere," he explained patiently.

Roy paid attention to what he said, and made a mental note of what Letho told him. Part of the reason he treaded the path of the witcher was for useful information, like the ones Letho gave him. Witchers could live for many centuries, making them a treasure trove of experience. Roy would try to get everything he could out of them, allowing him to get stronger.

Letho tossed a few pieces of dry, hard jerky to him as he held his pot of ale and looked into the evening sky, chewing on his food in silence. A while later, he unbuckled his sword and laid on the ground, using his arms as a pillow.

The ground was his bed, and the sky his blanket. Letho looked calm and relaxed, as if the wilds were his home. It was normal for witchers to camp in the wilderness for most parts of the year anyway.

When the scent of wine wafted to him, Roy gulped. "Can I have a taste?"

His leg felt awkward to move after he'd plastered marigold on it. When Letho said nothing, Roy took the wineskin and had a taste. The moment he took a sip, his neck craned, his eyes bulged, and his tongue stuck out. "What is this?!"

A sour and spicy taste mixed together like a bizarre concoction, and it made Roy spew out the wine.

Letho's face fell. "Don't drink if you can't take it, child. I went through a lot of trouble to get that from Beauclair. It's Est Est. Not everyone has the chance to even taste it in their lifetime. This wine is a tribute item. Savor it."

"Savor it? There is nothing to savor. The wine isn't good," Roy answered honestly. "Ol' Captain's Inn has better wine. I like its fruit wine. Even its dwarven liquor is better." And then Roy shifted the topic. "You mentioned Beauclair just now. If I remember correctly, that's in Toussaint, isn't it? Have you gone there before? Then you must have seen Duchess Anna Henrietta. Is she as beautiful as the rumors have it?"

Toussaint was the duchy where the DLC 'Blood and Wine' took place. Its fairytale-esque scenery had left a lasting impression on Roy. Of course, there was also the army of higher vampires, the lustful 'cloud sex,' and the beautiful duchess.

"We didn't see the duchess. Only her husband, Duke Raymond." Letho peered at Roy. "You're from a pigsty in Aedirn, boy. By all accounts, you shouldn't know the duchess' name. How do you?"

Toussaint was a duchy in Nilfgaard, a far, far place from Aedirn. The more he talked to Roy, the more Letho thought he was strange. He must have a lot of secrets.

"I told you why, but you don't believe me."

The witchers hadn't believed Roy's lie about him seeing the future in his dreams.

Roy huddled closer to the crackling fire and rubbed his hands. "Do all witchers live long lives like you, Letho?"

"Most lose their lives when fulfilling requests to hunt down monsters. Either that, or they fall in battle. Not even half make it to fifty."

Roy smiled. He knew of an old master in the Wolf School who was already two hundred. Maybe the other schools have witchers like that too.

"Do you regret your choice then?" Letho suddenly turned back to stare at him. "Being a witcher might kill you faster than being a peasant would."

"Honestly, a bit."

"Hmm?" A faint, murderous intent rose from Letho.

Roy quickly changed his answer. "Sorry. It's the alcohol talking. I won't regret this."

"Those gits have sent your parents to Novigrad, as promised. If you change your mind halfway through… The Viper School isn't filled with madmen like the Cat School, but we show no mercy to those who lie to us," Letho warned.

"Calm down, Letho. Let's change the topic. I heard witchers always have two swords with them. Why do you only have one?"

Letho's face stiffened. "You should know that every school specializes in different fields. The Viper School specializes in short swords and poison for battle.

Roy kept staring at him. Letho then shrugged, and Roy heard resignation in his voice. "I think you know that witchers have a steel sword and a silver sword that can each be held with one hand."

"Yes. The steel sword is for humans, and the silver sword is for monsters who are weak to silver, right?" Roy asked.

Letho shook his head. "That's too absolute. Some monsters are weak to silver, but steel works better on some of them. You know why I only have one steel sword? It's because even a silver-coated steel sword costs a lot, let alone a full one. The Viper School has seen better days, and now we must use our resources on more important matters, like your development."

Roy's heart skipped a beat. I wonder if being watched over by a witcher is a good thing. "I don't think I'd get a good steel sword anytime soon. Actually, I'm more interested in crossbows. Are you familiar with weapons like that, Letho? Can you teach me how to use it?" Roy was disappointed, for he still hadn't gotten a ranged weapon skill after a month of hunting.

Ranged weapons like bows and crossbows were more compatible with his strongest stat, Perception, compared to melee weapons. After his level up, Roy had increased the level of his new skill, thus making Observe a level 2 skill. He also had a two point increase in Perception.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, boy. Crossbows are the specialty of the Cat School and Bear School." Letho looked into the night, his gaze deepening as he walked down memory lane. "I'm not exactly a master, but I've used crossbows at some point in my life, so I'll teach you in a couple of days."

Letho then took out a bag of brown powder and made a circle on the ground with it, surrounding the horse, the campfire, him, and Roy.

Roy's nose wrinkled, and the stench of the powder reached him. "Is that powder made out of some creature's feces?"

"Not bad, boy. This is made out of a wyvern's feces. Surround yourself with it, and no wild animals will come near. Gives you a good night's sleep." 𝒷𝓮𝒹𝓃ℴ𝓿𝓮𝓁.𝓬𝓸𝓂

Roy's nose scrunched up, though he could still take the smell. At least it was better than when he was the butcher's apprentice. When the cold breeze brushed against him, Roy shivered. "Letho, can you not call me 'boy' or 'brat'? Just call me Roy." Being called brat made him feel like a little boy.

"Well, you'll have to work hard so that I'll acknowledge you. I might just call you by your name then." Letho didn't even look up. "You'll have to get used to it from now on. Get closer to the fire if it's cold."

Once Roy had huddled closer to the fire, Letho said, "Now it's time for your first witcher lesson, boy. Less talking, more thinking. Never show your weakness to anyone — not even the people closest to you. Shh!" Letho suddenly put his index finger against his lips, demanding Roy to be silent. He obliged, though he listened closely to his surroundings.

A wolf's howl reached them from afar, and pairs of ghastly green eyes appeared around the camp. Roy held his breath as he loaded his crossbow in silence.

The eyes swayed in the air, and they stared at the campfire. But they didn't move closer, as if stopped by some invisible force.

Letho drew the Axii sign near his horse, calming the whining, disquieted animal down.

The wolves only howled for a short while, and they didn't come near them. In the end, they returned to the darkness, whimpering in fear.

"Wyvern's feces do come in handy," Roy mumbled to himself. With Letho protecting him, and the wyvern's feces keeping the beasts away, Roy could gain EXP quickly in the wilds if he used his advantages to the fullest. They were in a place where beasts were at least ten times more numerous than they were in the woods around Kaer.

I can get a lot of EXP here. And I have some meat and anesthetic left.

"Look here, boy," Letho commanded, and Roy looked back reflexively. All he saw was an inverted triangle, and an overwhelming sleepiness assailed Roy. He closed his eyes, and became oblivious to everything around him.

Axii's effect lingered for a while, and Letho mumbled many things to the hypnotized boy. Roy thought he'd heard Letho say something, but the wind blew everything away.

Then Letho heaved a sigh of relief and dispeled Axii. He cracked his fingers and massaged the boy who had fallen asleep. Letho gazed at the young boy, and his expression softened.

When was the last time I took a disciple in? Thirty years ago? Shame that kid couldn't even get past the first round of the trial. Will this mysterious brat have better luck?

Chapter 16

As the first ray of light pierced through the darkness which was spread across the horizon, dawn broke through the sky.

"Mmh…" Roy stretched his arms and opened his eyes. Every cell in his body felt relaxed, as if he'd just soaked in a hot spring. It was the first time he'd had a good night's sleep since he crossed over two months ago. The dawn breeze kissed him, and it took away his lethargy, making Roy feel refreshed.

"Oh, right, why'd I… Axii. Dammit. Why'd he use Axii on me?" The color drained from Roy's face, and he quickly checked himself. I'm fine. My clothes are intact, and I don't feel weird anywhere. He heaved a sigh of relief. "Good thing baldy isn't gay."

"You're awake, brat." As Letho said good morning in his iconic deadpan voice, some thigh meat grilled to golden brown flew across the air in an arc.

"Ow, ow, hot, hot!" Roy tossed the meat around clumsily before finally catching it. He blew on it and asked, "What did you do to me last night?"

"Look at your wound."

"Oh, it's all healed."

Roy's thigh had been covered in blood since hours of horseback riding had gnawed his skin. It would have taken five days to heal, but the wound had formed scabs overnight. They were hideous, a dull reddish-brown hue, and were hard to the touch. But it didn't hurt.

"I hypnotized you with Axii last night and fed you some herbs."

"That's not a good idea, Letho. Shouldn't you tell me before you do that? Didn't think Axii helped with sleep, though. Wait, you couldn't have fed potions to me, could you?"

Potions for witchers could harm normal humans greatly, and Roy didn't want to hurt himself when he was still in his growing phase. He checked his character sheet, but everything seemed fine to him. His Strength even grew by 0.1 point, making it 4.3. Whoa. I got stronger in a night than I could in a month. What kind of magic meds did he feed me?

"Won't be as effective if you have your guard up," Letho explained. "Still a long way from the Trial of the Grasses. Potions will kill you if you take them before the trial. Relax. You had special herbs made for humans. It can even make you stronger if you take them regularly."

Roy's eyes shone at the mention of the effect. That kind of herb exists? He stopped complaining and gobbled up the remainder of the thigh. "Nice cooking." He clicked his tongue in praise. "Meat's tender enough, and smells great. What's this made out of, Letho?"

Letho's eyelid twitched, and he took a deep breath. "Wolf. The same beast that tried to kill us last night."

Letho didn't ask Roy to ride on horseback with him. Instead, he took the horse and sauntered in the wilderness. It was a land filled with strange plants and muddy ground that squelched under their feet, but the air was sweet, tangy, and humid. From time to time, roe deers, honey badgers, and deers would stick their heads out of the bushes, just to turn tail and run in fright at the sight of them both.

"Where are we going?"

Letho was already used to Roy's incessant questioning, and he shrugged before giving a cryptic answer. "Think closely, and you'll find the answer."

Roy squinted skeptically, and a moment later, one long, strange message appeared in his mind.

'Marigold: Biennial plant. Has glandular trichomes. Its leaves are alternate and circular in shape. Its flowers can be yellow or orange. Prefers cooler climates. It can survive the cold, but dies quickly in higher heat. Can help with digestion and healing of wounds.

'Buckthorn: Annual plant. Stem grows upright and has trichomes. Its leaves grow in a whorled arrangement. Prefers warmer climates and places with sufficient light as well as air circulation. Can survive hot environments, but dies if there's too much water. Can act as an antidote for poison and a medicine for plagues.

'Nettle… Belladonna… Comfrey… Myrtle… Chrysanthemum… Berbercane fruit…'

The images, details, and medicinal value for more than thirty herbs appeared within his mind, and Roy memorized them without difficulty. He was sure he could recognize every single one of them if they were to appear before him.

"You were almost healed when we left Kaer. Time for you to learn new things." Letho still held the horse by the leash. "So I used a sign last night to make you memorize the common herbs. They can do anything from stopping minor bleedings to neutralizing toxins. Remember them well. You'll have to use them eventually," he explained slowly.

Roy had his question answered. Over the course of one night, Letho had bestowed multiple surprises upon him. Roy became stronger, and he had a compendium of herbs in his mind. He hadn't seen most of them before, and he was sure they never appeared in the game. That's normal though. This is the real world. It's not as limited as the game. Course I don't know a lot of things. However, he had a giant head start with a witcher mentoring him.

These witchers really know how to use signs to their fullest potential. Never thought Axii could be used to bestow knowledge. I thought that only happened in novels. "Why didn't you leave more in my head, Letho? Something like alchemy? We can continue tonight."

Letho was inscrutable. "Sure. If you aren't scared of having a splitting headache for your whole life."

He then stopped before an area filled with bush. Wherever Roy looked, there was green, but the plants also came in different shapes. Some thicker, some thinner. Some bigger, some smaller.

"Now look for the herbs you saw in your head."

"Which one did you feed me last night? I want to pick more of them."

"Those are berbercane fruits," Letho answered. "Not a bad plant, to be honest. Take it every day, and it'll make you stronger."

Before Roy went to harvest the herbs, Letho told him what he should look out for. "If you go in to pick them without knowing their structure and the parts that are important, you'll ruin the herb. Then, they won't even be worth one crown. Take berbercane fruits, for example. The only valuable part is the red, misshapen fruits underground. The leaves that grow above it — however beautiful they are — aren't worth a thing. You can't just pull it out however you want though. Plants are a type of life form, and they can protect themselves. If you pull on it too strongly, the leaves will secrete a kind of fluid that will destroy the fruit. You'll have to be careful with how you pull them out, brat. If you're too soft, it won't work. If you're too strong, it'll be ruined."

As Letho went on with his explanations, Roy slowly paid more attention to the specifics. He never realized there were so many details to look out for, and it was a mere plant.

Around the bushes lay fallen leaves. They were covered in a sheet of sleet and dewdrops. The northern realms had always been colder than any other place. It was already late autumn when Roy arrived there, and snow had descended upon most nations.

Roy's face was red from the cold, but still he went on with his harvest among the bushes, icy step by icy step. Fortunately for him, berbercane fruits weren't rare, and he found a bunch of them not long after his search had started. The difficult part, however, was the plucking.

Roy had to pull the fruit out of the ground without shocking the leaves. If he made even one rough move, the green, juicy leaves would blacken completely in an instant, and the fruit would rot in a chain reaction.

Roy was drenched in sweat at the end, but he managed to pluck a sizable amount of berbercane fruits. They were gleaming under the sun, their crimson hue uncannily resembling strawberries, and the smell alone refreshed Roy. He placed most of them in his inventory and popped one into his mouth. Then a status that said 'Poisoned (mild)' appeared on the right side of his HP bar.

"Weird. My HP and stats are normal, and I don't feel unwell. Why'd this status show up? If I could just find out more about the fruit…"

Roy fell into his thoughts for a while, and a stroke of inspiration struck him. He remembered about his level two Observe skill. I made a mistake. I thought Observe could only be used on humans, animals, and monsters. But can it be used on herbs too?

Roy swiftly found a fresh berbercane plant, and he activated Observe. His eyes turned into a galaxy of knowledge as an information sheet appeared on top of the plant.

'Berbercane. Perennial plants. This particular plant is currently two and a half years old. Berbercanes can be found in the northern realms or lands that constantly experience temperatures lower than twenty degrees.

'Usages: 1. Can be eaten as food. Taking an ounce of berbercane fruit every day for a month will increase your stats gradually. It can raise your stats by one point at the maximum, and the effect will stop after your stats reach five points. 2. As material for potions and decoctions.

'Negative effects: Contains mild poison. The user must wait until the poison has disappeared fully before consuming another fruit. If not, the poison will consume the user's sense of taste. If the poison remains for more than two months, the user will lose their sense of taste permanently. The user is immune to the poison if their Stamina is higher than 15.'

The message detailed the age and dosage of the fruit. It was a perfect complement to the pointers Letho gave him. It was then that Roy prioritized the leveling up of Observe.

After putting the rest of the berbercane fruits in his inventory space, Roy started sweeping through the bushes for herbs. It took him the whole morning to get through the patch of bushes, but in the end, he found twelve types of herbs he saw in his mind, including myrtles, crow's eyes, beggarticks, and black hellebore. Aside from berbercane fruits, an herb called blowball could give him a minor increase in Strength, though only by one point at most. It wasn't too obvious an improvement.

Even so, attribute points were hard to come by. He was only awarded one point with every level up, and at the time being, he needed one thousand EXP to do so. Leveling up would eventually become a steep hill to climb, which made stat improvements through herbs a sweet bonus for him.

If Roy's Observe was correct, consuming blowballs and berbercane fruits for a month would raise his weakest stats, Constitution and Strength, to five points, making him on par with a normal adult.

The only drawback was the fact that consuming herbs was a double-edged blade. It could strengthen him, but they could poison him too. If he wasn't careful, he would lose his sense of smell and taste. Fortunately, the poison effect wasn't permanent. On the contrary, it faded fast enough for Roy not to mind it. After finishing his berbercane fruit, he popped some blowball petals into his mouth and gave it a thorough chew in case it would upset his stomach.

Raising my stats with herbs is the easiest way to train I've ever heard.

Chapter 17

It was almost dusk when Roy was done scavenging for herbs. The pair arrived at a murky river that was ten feet wide, but which had both ends extend indefinitely. Letho stopped in his tracks, and his pupils turned into slits. As Roy observed him, he was reminded of a bristled feline, though in human form.

PR/N: Ten feet is around 3.05 meters.

"What's wrong? Is this a dangerous place?"

Letho signaled for Roy's silence, and he crept closer to the river. He pulled out a blue scale from the cracks between the pebbles at the riverside. Once he took a whiff of it, Letho moved backward. "We'll have to camp further away. Something nasty is in the river."

"You're saying…" Roy gazed at the murky waters, and excitement welled up in him.

"There's at least one drowner in the waters." Letho tossed the scale to Roy. "Take a look. Drowners are different from fish. Their scales are thicker, and there's a bulge in the center. And if you smell it carefully, there's the stench of rotten corpses on it."

Roy tried to do so, but since his Perception wasn't high enough, he couldn't smell anything. They stayed around for a moment, and when Roy left with Letho, his head hung low along the way.

Suddenly, he patted Letho's sturdy back. "Letho, can you show me what the legendary drowners look like?" he asked hesitantly. "Since I'm going to fight them eventually, this is a good time to learn all about them. Someone will get killed if we leave these monsters alone."

"Drowners have a nickname among us witchers," Letho snapped back. "Newbie killers. Many new witchers have met their doom at the hands of drowners because of their damned curiosity."

Roy took a nervous step back. Even though Letho had said he was going to leave, he'd saddled his horse before going back to search across the riverbank, and he found more scales. The witcher pondered for a moment, then he checked his gear, weapon, bombs, and potions.

Roy was surprised to see Letho so serious, as if the drowner was a big threat. "Is that necessary? I thought drowners weren't great at fighting."

He'd killed many drowners in the game. At least hundreds of them died by Roy's hands. He could still remember their gurgles and strange nasal noises. His many battles gave him a thorough understanding of the monster. Their strength was on par with that of a normal human's, though their speed was better. Aside from being better swimmers, Roy didn't think they were memorable.

"Looks like those dreams of yours don't work every time." Letho poured some light green necrophage oil on his sword. "Didn't your dream tell you something? 'Monsters don't come alone. Sometimes they come in groups.' These bastards always come in groups, so keep that attitude in check, boy. Never underestimate any monster, no matter how weak they are. We only have one life, and no one will spare you any pity if you get killed because of your foolishness. That's the second lesson."

Letho took out a bloodied wolf thigh from the saddlebag and tore it into pieces with his short sword.

"I understand. There will be no next time." Roy looked down in shame. Letho made him remember that he was still human, and drowners could kill humans easily. If he kept taking on his enemies in such a frivolous manner, he would eventually get killed because of it.

I've been this way since the last adventure. That's not a good habit. Gotta change it right now.

"What should I do, Letho? How should I help?" Roy took out his crossbow and loaded it with bolts.

"Just stay back and watch how a professional hunts." Letho paused for a moment. "But if you want to help, then answer me this: What's a drowner's weakness?" He stared at Roy, inscrutable.

Roy wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut and listened intently. Letho nodded in satisfaction. So he finally knows the importance of humility. "Remember, drowners aren't afraid of poison. Don't try to make them bleed either. It won't work."

Roy shivered after hearing Letho's advice. He was going to use the butcher's anesthetic against the drowner. If he'd done that, he might've been the first otherworlder in the history of novels to have been eaten by a drowner.

"Drowners aren't known for their intelligence. They're stupider than a boot, so Axii won't work on them either. And their sight is terrible. If their target is more than forty feet away, they'd effectively be blind, even in daylight. Course, you'll have to outrun them. They're scared of fire and anything related to it." 𝗯𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥.𝐜𝗼𝐦

Letho took out a transparent, glass canister the size of half a fist from his alchemy bag. Roy could see multicolored gas swirling within it.

"That's Dragon's Dream, a kind of alchemy bomb. It's infused with flammable gas," Letho said. "You're good with the crossbow, so I assume your accuracy is decent? Once I lure the drowners out, listen to my signal and toss the bomb to where they group up. Then I'll light the fuse. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Letho cut the bloodied meat up into dozens of pieces before scattering them on an even spot of ground twenty feet from the river. Then he quickly came back to hide with Roy a safe distance away and stared at the river closely. Five minutes later, the river that had been flowing silently started bubbling as if it were boiling. Ripples spread as something crawled out of the murky depths.

First there was one, then two, then three. Finally, five hideous humanoid creatures reared their heads from the river and gurgled as they darted to the riverbank.

The monsters bore a resemblance to corpses fished out from the bottom of lakes. Their skin was blue or green in color, but all of them had sticky fluids and filthy mud dripping out of their pores. Their limbs were adorned with slippery scales, and webs like those of aquatic animals were seen between their fingers. Gills that looked like fans hung from their cheeks, and a catfish mustache wiggled above their lips.

Their bodies were deathly pale, as well as their sunken faces. Two rows of sharp teeth glistened in their mouths as they grinned. The drowners were looking everywhere in paranoia, their eyes ghastly white.

After they were certain that no one was around, the drowners sniffed the air, and they pounced at the minced meat with excitement. They had a strange way of running, with their hands behind their backs, just like ostriches would. Roy looked at Letho, but he didn't give any signal yet. Then Roy looked at the monster that had mutated the most, and his eyes turned into a galaxy of information.

'Drowner

Sex: None

Age: 12

Status: None

HP: 70

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 6

Constitution: 7

Perception: 3

Will: 2

Charisma: 0

Spirit: 0

Skill:

Underwater Breathing Level 10: Allows for indefinite periods of breathing underwater.

Mutated Body Level 10: Many think of drowners as monsters that are formed from corpses of those who died a watery death, but their bodies are structured differently than humans. Drowners are possibly artificial life forms created by magic, or an invasive species from the Conjunction of the Spheres.

Immune to poisoning and bleeding.'

They have zero Charisma and Spirit? Are you sure they aren't dead bodies? Roy commented silently. No wonder Axii has no effect on them.

When he looked at Letho again, the witcher had already given his signal. Roy took a deep breath and pulled his right hand back before tossing the bomb into the air. It flew in an arc and dropped in the middle of the five drowners.

The bomb was smashed into pieces as it slammed into the ground, and the colorful smoke spread ten feet in every direction, enveloping the monsters that were feasting on the meat. At the same time, Letho darted forward like the wind and casted Igni at the drowners before pulling back. The fire that touched the colorful smoke spread across the monsters quickly as if it had met something that could help it soar.

Roy, crossbow in hand, watched the drowners in shock as fireworks rained upon them. The yellow flames gleamed within the colorful gas, and as the sound of explosions started ringing out, the sky was dyed in the colors of the smoke.

Five gurgling, charred drowners leaped out of the explosion, and three of them ran toward the river. Letho chased after them with his short sword in hand, intending to finish them off. The other two targeted Roy, but one was shot through the eye before it could get near him. When Roy was about to reload, the remaining drowner had already closed in on him.

There wasn't even a millimeter of hair on its pale, grotesque face, and the flames were still igniting it. When the stench of its charred meat and bad breath assailed Roy, he felt suffocated.

Roy could see death staring him in the eye, but it left as soon as it had appeared. The drowner who was attacking him froze in its tracks as if stopped by some magical force. Even so, the inertia made it skid forward, close enough so Roy could grab it. It was a weird situation, but there was no time for Roy to think about it. He took out his short sword and sliced down on its head, making it stumble backward. As the drowner fell, Roy shot a bolt through its eyes. The monster trembled, but stopped moving a moment later.

'Drowner killed. EXP gained: 20.

'Drowner killed. EXP gained: 20.

'Level 2: EXP (143/1000).'

Roy heaved a sigh of relief. Dizziness started overwhelming him, and his body was drenched in sweat. That was a close one. I was almost killed. If Fear hadn't activated back then, I might have been killed by that drowner. Best case scenario, I would've gotten crippled.

"Know why we call them newbie killers now, boy?" Letho had come back from his hunt. The three drowners hadn't managed to escape, and their heads were cut off. "Still think you can underestimate them?"

Roy kept quiet. He didn't expect the cool witcher to be a nagging person. "What should we do with these bodies? Should we throw them into the river, or burn them again?"

"Take their brains out. I'll teach you what to do. Drowner brains are important to make Swallow. Some sorcerers would buy it too." The witcher and his disciple went around the riverbank and laid the drowners' bodies out in a row. "It'd be best if we could find a red mutagen. Dragon's Dream costs a lot to make. If there's no red mutagen, we'd be losing money."

Chapter 18

The cold wind blew across the wilderness, making the cruel night ever so frigid. Two people sat around a warm, crackling fire as they munched on their dinner — a hot, steaming, grilled rabbit. Letho sipped from his Est Est and blurted out, "I remember you asking for some pointers on using crossbows. I have some time to talk to you about that now."

Roy was a self-taught crossbowman. He'd been wishing for some professional training. After starting his journey with Letho, Roy could feel Gabriel getting limited in its use. He could use it to kill normal animals, but not monsters. The only way to break the impasse was through an improvement of his skills.

Letho asked him to take Gabriel out and talked about crossbows. "Can't talk about Viper School's crossbow skills, since that's not our specialty. I'll tell you about the experience a friend from the Cat School shared with me."

"You know people from the Cat School, Letho?" Roy asked curiously. If he remembered correctly, Cat School witchers had problematic personalities after taking their special-made decoction during the Trial of the Grasses. They would walk an extreme path, and being a witcher exacerbated that, for they were shown the darkness of the world. Left unchecked, they would spiral into madness.

There were six known witcher schools: Bear School, Wolf School, Griffin School, Cat School, Viper School, and Manticore School. Only witchers from Cat School would accept assassination requests publicly. Because of that, the Cat School was rejected by the other schools and society, making them persona non grata* everywhere. Cat School had a complex relationship with the Wolf School, and was the only one accepting female disciples.

PR/N: Definition of "persona non grata": In diplomacy, a persona non grata (Latin: "person not welcome", plural: personae non gratae) is a status sometimes applied by a host country to foreign diplomats to remove their protection by diplomatic immunity from arrest and other normal kinds of prosecution. Also… I want to join the Cat School xD.

"Everyone says that the Cats are madmen." Letho rubbed an old scar on his left forearm, and reminiscence showed in his amber eyes. "But that's obviously nonsense. There are witchers from the Cat School who can coexist with others in peace, but I digress. Let's talk business. Tell me what you think is most important when attacking with a crossbow?"

Roy fiddled with Gabriel and made an aiming pose. "I aim… then I shoot? Oh, the most important part is the time I pull the trigger. It's the shooting, isn't it? That's the deciding factor between hitting or missing the target."

"You're not a total idiot, boy. Yes, everything you do before you shoot is for that exact moment — the moment you pull the trigger." Letho circled the campfire and paused for a moment. "The details can be complicated. There are five steps to follow if you want to shoot a crossbow: how you hold it, how you position yourself, how you load the bolts, how you aim, and how you shoot."

Roy remained calm despite the complicated explanation. He was already ready for that, for he knew complex details were hidden behind every simple task, and they were only revealed when a professional searched for them.

"We have time, so take it slow. Let's start with the basics — holding the crossbow. Hold it like how you always do."

Roy was used to holding Gabriel with one hand since it was smaller than standard crossbows, but he could hold it with two as well. Roy followed the instructions and stood up straight, then holding the lower-middle part of the crossbow with his left hand, he held the handle with his right.

Letho started pushing down on Roy. "You didn't learn from a master, did you? Your movements are all wrong, but it isn't too late to correct them." He told him the crux of the skill. "Remember, you have to center your gravity and relax. Understood? Your shoulders have to be level, and you're not supposed to support the crossbow with any part beside your hands. Since you're right-handed, you should point your left elbow and tuck it in. Don't ask why you should correct your movement every time. You'll know why after your ten thousandth shot, because the guy who told me this shot at least a million."

PR/N: Casually notes this down.

The movement sounded easy, and it was simple to follow, but it was hard to maintain at all times, at least enough for it to become second nature. Practice would be boring.

Roy kept cheering himself up though. Keep this up, Roy. This is the first step to gaining power. If I can't even take this, how am I supposed to pass the Trial of the Grasses?

More than one hour of practice later, Roy was drenched in sweat, but he was starting to hold his crossbow the right way. Letho then went on to talk about how he should load the bolt. "If you want to learn how to shoot, then preparation is key. First learn how to hold the weapon and how to load it."

Three hours had passed after Roy had learned how to do the second step. As the moon rose to its peak, Roy was starting to stagger from the exhaustion. According to Letho's way, he had to use his foot while loading the bolt. It took more out of Roy, but it was safer and more efficient compared to loading with hands.

Roy didn't complain throughout the session. Even though he was already drenched in sweat, he was focused on his training. Letho was happy with his attitude, and he thought Roy might just have a chance to pass the trial.

"That's it for tonight."

When Roy was drying his clothes by the campfire after he had washed himself off, Letho said, "It's almost time to sleep. Since you asked, now you have two choices. One, I'll use Axii to hypnotize you. You'll fall into a deep sleep which will help you recover from your fatigue quickly. Maybe you'll even get something out of it. Two, you try to recover on your own."

Roy recalled the good sleep he'd had last night. "Are you trying to sneak more knowledge into my mind, Letho?" he queried.

"I said that's going to give you a permanent headache." Letho rubbed his fingers together. "If you're fine with the first way, then relax and don't resist, or it won't work as well as it's supposed to."

Roy gave it a moment of thought. If Letho wants to harm me, I'd be killed before I could make a move. Telling me before using Axii is already a sign of respect. He let go of any misgivings and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

It was a peaceful week after that night. No monsters came to attack them, nor did they come across any creature. During the journey, the witcher would scavenge for herbs in the wilderness during daytime to teach Roy about them. When dusk would fall, Roy would go for a hunt with his new and improved crossbow skills. That granted him some EXP and dinner.

Once night had fully fallen, Roy would practice around the campfire, and Letho would be the coach. After buckets and buckets of sweat, Roy was finally starting to get into the important part — the breathing technique. He could feel his shooting skill improve, but it didn't develop into a skill he could use. He needed real battles for that. Before he slept, Letho would use Axii on him to induce a deep slumber. Every morning, Roy woke up refreshed and reborn.

One week after that, Roy's EXP bar was already at 280 points. His Constitution was raised by 0.1 points thanks to the herbs he was consuming, bringing it to 4.4. His strength saw the same increase, bringing it to 4.3. At the time being, Roy could memorize more than fifty types of herbs, their effects, where they grew, and how to handle them. Massacre could affect five more types of animals. Roy was starting to enjoy the slow but sure process of growth.

Then, the night came when they finally got out of the remote wilderness. They could see a tall, sturdy wall over yonder. The windows of tall spires behind the wall glimmered, and white smoke billowed from the top. "That's Aldersberg, the city neighboring the Mahakam mountain range and southern Aedirn's last line of defense. We'll be there by tomorrow."

Roy looked in the direction of the wall, and he saw a gigantic mountain range standing behind it, looming over them. From where he stood, the mountains looked like an ancient monster, deep in its slumber. The infinite snow and the dappled greenery was little more than ornaments for the mountain.

That was the Mahakam mountain range. It was the giant that separated Temeria and Aedirn, the home of dwarves. Rumors had it that gnomes lived there too. They would have to go through Aldersberg and scale past the mountains before they could arrive in Cintra. But since it was getting late, the pair camped in the wilds.

After another satisfying grilled meat dinner, Letho sat quietly on the ground, facing the Mahakam mountain range. The depressing silence he'd kept along the way faded, replaced by a grounded, peaceful strength.

As Roy stared at Letho's back, the magical energy the witcher radiated made him feel at ease. Letho said, "Meditation was created by the first Sources. It's a way to communicate and control chaos energy, or elemental energy, so to speak. It is then left as inheritance for the witchers by Cosimo Malaspina, the founder of witchers. Meditation can calm humans and witchers alike. It can also cleanse negative emotions, heal bodily wounds quickly, speed up recovery, and induce deep sleep.

"But those who are sensitive to magical energy can sense the elemental energy through meditation. They can harness the power from air, water, earth, and fire. If they aren't sent to a sorcerer's academy to tame the elemental energy they channel during their meditation/ they have after they exit meditation, they will be driven mad after their powers get out of control. Worse, their bodies will twist and mutate. That's why I'll need you to go into meditation, boy. I need you to tell me if you're a normal human or a magic-sensitive one."

Roy's heart skipped a beat. So this is it. Then he was confused. "What should I do to enter meditation?

He was sure Letho had never mentioned anything regarding meditation before that night. If it was possible, Roy wished he was a magic-sensitive human. Witchers were derivatives of mages, making them less powerful than one. However, he saw nothing regarding magic, elements, or chaos energy in his character sheet. There weren't any skills or mana in there either, and Roy knew he might not be a mage then.

Letho answered his question calmly. "I hypnotized you with Axii every night before you slept."

"That wasn't for deep sleep?"

"I did say you might get something out of it, and you took my offer," Letho emphasized. "To be more precise, you have entered meditation six times, so you're ready for it. Your body has adapted to the process, but since you didn't enter it yourself, you didn't remember it. Tonight, you'll have to do it yourself and tell me what you feel during meditation."

I can get something out of it… I thought that was weird. So this is why. Does he trust me enough now to tell me about it? Roy was glad he made the choice to be hypnotized, but he remembered nothing about meditating. All he knew was he slept well every night. 𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒏𝒐𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝙘𝙤𝒎

"Don't think too much about it. Sit like I'm sitting."

Roy followed his instructions and made a weird sign with his fingers, but it felt natural to him, as if he had done it many times. Roy entered a bizarre state a moment later. He felt warm and fuzzy, as if he was in his mother's womb again. Every cell on his body was roaring as they absorbed everything around them to heal and strengthen themselves.

The blowing winds and crackling campfire looked ever so distant, and he stared at the Mahakam mountain range, Aldersberg disappearing from his sight. The clouds that swirled above it moved in a random manner, but eventually, they formed a spiral that sucked him in.

Chapter 19

"Air, water, earth, and fire swirled around you… and they left? As expected, you're a normal human."

"A normal human…"

The message rang around him, and Roy sighed. "I knew it. I'm a peasant's son, after all. That's what I should be. I wasn't sent to a witcher because of any accident, nor am I part elf, and I'm not a magic-sensitive person. The only way I can stand tall in this world is through hard work." That moment steeled his resolve to become a witcher.

After going into meditation for the first time, a message popped up in his character sheet.

'You have unlocked a new skill, Meditation level 1. Meditation is training for the body and mind. Going into a meditative state calms the body and soul, speeds up the recovery of wounds, mana, and stamina, improves coordination, and increases affinity for chaos energy. Tip: Every time Meditation is leveled up, Constitution and Spirit will be permanently increased.'

Roy's jaw dropped. It was the first time he'd acquired a skill that could increase his stats. His interest was piqued, and he wanted to level up immediately so he could level up the skill. But he calmed down quickly and set the idea aside. He couldn't cast signs before unlocking mana, so increasing Spirit wouldn't do much, since it only added to the strength of spells.

Letho was observing him in silence. He could sense some unseen changes in Roy through his extraordinary perception, but he couldn't describe it in detail. He's one mysterious boy, but he belongs to the Viper School now. His secret shall be ours, and it will pave the way for our return.

The pair left the wilds the next morning, and they went down the path leading toward Aldersberg. The path was strewn with carriage tracks and hoof prints, while a dense forest flanked it. Dappled sunlight shone through it, and the leaves rustled as the morning breeze blew past them. The fresh scent of the earth and leaves were swept up into the air, wafting across the path.

As the wind grew stronger, Letho pulled on the leash, forcing the horse to stop. As if alerted by something, he hunkered down and drew across the tracks before looking ahead, but there was nothing to see. Then alarm bells rang in his head. "Crossbow at the ready, Roy! Prepare for battle!" Dammit. Why'd trouble have to show up at the last leg?

Roy held down on the crossbow string made out of a cow's tendons and loaded his bolts. He wasn't worried despite Letho's warning. Perhaps his confidence came from his meditation, or maybe from Letho. As they walked along the path, Roy listened closely to his surroundings, and his muscles turned taut. Two hundred feet later, Letho stopped again, the black cloth on his shoulder billowing in the gale.

A shrill sound of a whistle traveled across the forest, and a group of pasty men in tattered clothes rushed out of the forest. Are they peasants? Or a hodgepodge army?

Their clothes were nothing but ugly rags, and they were equipped with nothing but farming implements — hoes, hammers, and even pitchforks. They were in a loose, random formation, and they spat curses at the pair. They surrounded them closely, their faces filled with a cruel hunger.

Then, a middle-aged man with a green, leather hat, yellow jacket, and black pants came forward. He had a mole on his face. The group gave way to him, and he strutted with his chest out, as if he were a rooster. "Put yer weapons down an' get down on tha ground!" he commanded.

Roy held his crossbow like he practiced, and he counted their enemies. There were thirteen of them.

Letho crossed his arms dismissively, ignoring the peasant's warning. "Rebel army, huh? So you're becoming bandits now?"

Roy thought quietly, Rebel army? Aren't they revolutionists?

He had heard about the peasant movement in Aldersberg when he was still in Kaer. These guys are revolutionists? They're just bandits.

"Fuck you! Did ja just call us bandits, ye slanderin' bastard?" the leader roared in indignance, his face red. "We're doin' this fer the great revolution! To topple the tyranny of Demavend and Tavik! This is justice! If yer on the side of justice, then put yer weapons down and give up all yer money for the revolution! If ya try ter resist, then yer the dogs of tyrants! And we shall judge you!"

Roy's face twitched. He had never seen someone so shameless before. Did they just twist a robbery into an act of justice? And we're the bad guys because we defend ourselves? Well, what can you expect from the west? No dignity.

A frown creased Letho's forehead. Ever since he'd started running around, nobody had ever tried to rob a witcher. It was a rare occurrence. If this were in the past, he would've gone up there to kill the peasants, but since Roy was with him, he found it inappropriate to kill right away. Letho held the trinket around his neck and showed it to the peasants. "Do you recognize this?"

Greed gleamed in the leader's eyes. "Is that made outta silver? Toss 'em here, right' now!"

"B-Boss, t-that's a witcher!" a peasant with a long chin stammered, pointing at Letho, his face filled with horror

"What? He's a disgustin' mutant?"

"Look at his eyes! 'Tis amber! The eyes of a cat!" The peasants took a step back after hearing that. Roy's eyelid twitched, for he didn't expect witchers to be so feared.

"B-Boss. Witchers can kill monsters. We ain't no match fer him," another peasant stuttered out.

"Whatcha so afraid of?" The peasant leader bellowed when his men showed cowardice. "They're just one witcher and a child! We outnumber 'em!" The leader took two steps back and commanded, "Charge, men! They can't fight us all a' once! Shred them to bits!"

"Yeah! We have nuthin' to be afraid of!"

Finding their courage once more, the peasants picked up their farming implements and pointed them at the pair, but none made the first move.

"One last time! Put yer weapons down!"

"And let you do whatever you want?" Letho's face fell, and he shook his head. Roy, noticing the imminent melee, went behind Letho. He wasn't a witcher, so he needed Letho to stay in front to keep him safe.

"I can practically smell the blood on you. Been doing this robbery business for a while now, haven't you? Killed a lot too, by the looks of it," Letho replied drily and mercilessly.

"Goddammit! These bastards are resisting! Face yer fate!" The leader was still trying to justify his actions. "The revolution demands sacrifice!"

Letho spent not another second in this debate. Before anyone could do anything, he'd already drawn a sign with his right hand, then a red, triangular light shot itself into the leader's eyes. A moment later, a scream of horror pierced through everyone, and another peasant clutched his stomach as he staggered backward in disbelief.

Standing before him was the peasant in the green leather hat — their arrogant leader. His eyes were dim, and he was holding a bloody sword, moving like a puppet.

"The witcher controlled the boss!" someone screamed.

"The boss killed Neil!"

As the peasants wallowed in their shock, Letho slowly unsheathed his steel sword instead of his short swords. The broad blade glinted coldly under the sun, and the witcher poised himself before rushing into the band of peasants. He was like a tiger jumping into a group of sheep.

Letho was superior in every way — strength, reflexes, battle skills, experience. The peasants were no match for him, and Letho became a killing machine. Wherever he went, screams and wails of terror followed. Chunks of meat and broken limbs flew everywhere, and crimson blood dyed the ground red. Roy could see nothing but brilliant scarlet.

As the sword swung along the cramped forest path, another scream was cut short, and Letho took another life away. The frightened peasants tried to scamper away, but they couldn't outrun a Viper School witcher. Soon, the forest was filled with nothing but cries for mercy.

Roy froze up. He'd killed many creatures, but most of them were just animals. He'd never killed humans. But right before his very eyes, a group of humans were slaughtered before they could even resist. No matter how much the peasants cried for mercy, Letho showed them none. All he did was swing his sword, again and again, as if he was the grim reaper. He moved instinctively, not deigning to use his potions or signs.

Is this really the same guy who taught me herbology and crossbow skills? Is he really the same guy who hypnotized me every night so he could teach me meditation? Maybe this is how witchers work. They can kill both monsters and humans. Roy held his crossbow and took a deep breath. He parted his legs and lifted his arms, standing in the shooting pose he'd practiced many times.

One survivor managed to escape Letho's massacre, but his face was bloodied. Even so, he looked hopeful — albeit crazed — as he ran toward Roy. "Capture him! Capture that boy! We can use him to blackmail the witcher! That's the only way to live!"

He was already wobbling, but he did his best to stay on his feet, and he extended his trembling hand forward in an attempt to hold the boy by his neck. Just a couple o' steps away, and he's mine!

A bolt arced through the air, hitting the peasant square in the face. The peasant stumbled backward, looking up into the sky, and fell down with a thud, spread-eagled. Between his widened eyes lay a crossbow bolt that pierced through his skull.

'EXP gained: 20. Level 2 (300/1000).'

Roy heaved a sigh and took another deep breath before reloading his crossbow and aiming in another direction.

The bloody massacre ended ten minutes later. Letho took out a blue cloth and wiped the blood off his sword. Roy sat beside him, inscrutable. His hair and clothes were drenched in blood. A long while later, Roy took a deep breath.

"Now do you see how low these lands have fallen? There is no right or wrong here," Letho said coolly. "If we didn't kill them all, trouble would've been waiting for us if any of them had managed to return to Aldersberg."

Letho sighed after seeing Roy was still stunned. "I can smell blood on them. These peasants are no decent human beings. This is not the first time they've done this, and this is not the first time they've tried or killed someone. Does that make you feel better?"

"I'm fine. Just not used to it," Roy answered. He showed no pity to those men. They didn't show mercy to their victims.

"Good," Letho praised. "Also, you shot decently. Shows you actually listen to me."

Roy killed three injured peasants. He breathed according to the tempo he was taught, and the moment he was going to breathe heavier, Roy pulled the trigger. His shots were true, and every single one of them was a killing blow. He could have killed more, but he'd hesitated. It was Roy's first time killing humans. He couldn't be as calm as Letho. 𝘣𝘦𝑑𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝑙．𝑐𝑜𝘮

One life was worth 20 EXP, the same as a drowner. Roy's EXP was 340/1000 after killing three humans. This is ridiculous. So lives are the same for the character sheet? They're just numbers and data?

A short while after the massacre, the pair moved the peasants' bodies into a big hole in the forest. Letho then poured some oil on them and lit them up with Igni. It didn't take long for the bodies to char. That was done to prevent any plagues from spreading in case any ghouls were attracted.

Letho took all the money the bandits robbed, which totaled a hundred crowns. Roy gained a lot of EXP and money in the kill, but he wouldn't wish for another occurrence like that.

"You can get half of the spoils, including the drowner's brain." To Roy's surprise, Letho gave him fifty crowns. "Lesson three: always share the spoils," Letho told him solemnly. "If you don't want to antagonize your partners after becoming a witcher, never let greed blind you."

Roy was about to refuse. He had a bad feeling about the split, for he thought Letho was trying to tell him something else.

Chapter 20

The great wall that stood thirty feet tall formed Aedirn's final line of defense — the city of Aldersberg. Lyria and Rivia stood in the east of the city, while the Mahakam mountain range stood in the west, stopping anyone from attacking. Aldersberg was almost impregnable, an iron wall between the nilfgaardian army and their conquest. In front of the city was a moat dug by the people, and the bridge above it was the city's entrance, but it was heavily guarded.

All kinds of people traveled across the bridge: farmers who were in a hurry to get to the market, merchants who brought carriages of merchandise, and even travelers from afar. They were forming a line for the guards to perform a check before they could get any clearance. Behind them, a great wilderness unfolded, where dozens of villages that provided for Aldersberg stood.

"Letho, a witcher from the Viper School?" a guard asked.

"Yes."

"You'd better keep your head down when you're in there. The rebel army's troubling enough, and we don't want any more problems from a witcher. Understood?" A guard with a halberd gazed at Letho with suspicion. His gleaming armor had a crest made up of red and yellow lines emblazoned on his chest.

The crest that looked like a flaming arrow was Aedirn's crest.

After checking Letho's pass, the guard looked at the scrawny boy behind him. "Is this boy with you?" 𝗯𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥.𝐜𝗼𝐦

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

"My employer, Roy. He comes from Kaer, Lower Posada. Wants to visit his family in Aldersberg."

"Alright, you may go." Roy's delicate face and frail demeanor didn't make him look like a threat. The guards let them go without any further questions.

The village boy, Roy, finally arrived in Aldersberg, a big city in another world. Even though a revolution was heating up, it didn't change the fact that it was a bustling city.

Behind the city gates laid a buzzing, business district. Shouts from store owners rang across the place, and different stores unfurled before their eyes. The district was filled with people dealing with their everyday business. Even the smallest house in the city was bigger and better than Kaer's village chief's house. Most of them had arched doors, etched windows, and domed roofs. The walls were filled with complex, ever-changing engravings as beautiful as pieces of art.

Roy, who was used to the quiet wilderness, fell into a trance. He felt like he was in a european city during the late Renaissance. A shame Aldersberg was invaded during the first Northern War. I wonder how much of their culture can be preserved.

Letho shook his head in mild disappointment, thinking Roy was shocked by the bustling city. After getting through the street that was behind the gates, the pair came to a clearing. Standing in the middle of the stone-paved street was a small fountain plaza.

A seven-feet statue stood in the middle of the stone pedestal. The statue was that of an old man. He was in rags, but he had a wise twinkle in his eyes and a bushy beard. A crowd surrounded it, talking loudly. They had books in hand, and Roy guessed they must've been talking about academic topics. They were in better garments than the peasants, and they had hats on top of their heads. Trinkets hung on them, and even their shoes were neatly cleaned. A team of fully-equipped soldiers patrolled nearby. "Who's that statue supposed to be?"

"Lebioda. He symbolizes wisdom. Has a lot of followers in Aldersberg," Letho answered indifferently. "Those people there are merchants and children of minor nobles. The real workers are working their butts off to put food on the table."

Roy went through his memories about Lebioda. He'd started out as a wandering, public speaker who'd promoted his philosophy and wisdom everywhere. Thanks to his charisma and eloquence, he gained countless followers who believed his philosophy fervently. He was famous in the northern kingdoms, and humans weren't the only people who looked up to him — dwarves did too.

Eventually, he was called a saint, a seer, and a prophet. Many years after his death, he was worshipped as a deity in his temple. The mention of religion made Roy think of an infamous church. "Isn't Eternal Fire the most popular religion in the north?"

Letho explained patiently. "Eternal Fire is famous in Vizima, the capital of Temeria, and Novigrad, the city of freedom. In recent years, Eternal Fire has shown disdain toward non-human races, becoming more extreme with time. They have many followers, but are also infamous amongst many humans, dwarves, elves, and other non-human races."

Roy knew that after Radovid's succession of the throne, the whole of Redania would be engulfed by Eternal Fire's flame. The cult eventually spread its bigotry further, encroaching witchers and mages. Everyone who wasn't human was hunted down, but that was a story for another time.

"Aldersberg is just beside the Mahakam mountain range, and that's where the dwarves live. They make business selling ores from the mountain, and that makes them a big power player here. They won't let Eternal Fire establish itself around their home."

"Not bad," Roy mumbled. "Where are we going next?"

"We've been on the road for a week. Let's rest up for a few days and see what happens."

Walls Inn, Aldersberg city center.

Letho let himself go and ordered all sorts of wine, including dwarven liquor, kirsch, and fiorano.

Wine filled the table, but all Letho did was taste them slowly. After every sip, he would squint in relaxation and take a deep breath, as if he were enjoying the best thing in the world. He would open his eyes from time to time to look at the merry crowd in the inn.

Labor workers, farmers, merchants, and even thugs were having fun in the inn. Status was of no importance here. As for Roy, well, he found himself itching for something once he'd come inside. He was itching for Gwent. The boy took out the Skellige deck Jack gave him and went to a table that was having a loud Gwent match. He was brave enough to do that because of Letho being around.

"Let's switch once you lose, my friend."

"Get lost, you brat!" A man in a shawl glared at Roy in disdain, but once Roy showed his deck, it attracted all the players' eyes. They looked at Roy with passion and greed, as if they could win his deck.

Roy sat on the chair and smiled. "Do you want to win my rare cards?" he asked, inviting them into his trap. "I will give them all if you win. Here's the deck, so come on up."

Roy was planning to win more money with Gwent. City life was expensive. "I can win with my deck as well as my expe — I mean, my cheats," he mumbled.

On the other hand, after having twenty glasses of wine, Letho was turning scarlet. Even though he was a witcher, having too many drinks made his mind foggy, though nobody knew if he was truly drunk. Not even himself.

Most people would give a wide berth if they saw someone with a sword and amber eyes. Some gave witchers looks of disdain, but none harassed them. Letho was too fearsome a person, and everyone thought he could kill at a moment's notice. Not everyone was a bandit, and not everyone had the guts to provoke witchers.

All but one kind of person.

A woman walked toward Letho seductively, and she held his arms as if they'd known each other forever, though it was only mere moments since they'd met. She then whispered something into his ear.

"Boy!" Letho shouted at the crowd. When Roy looked back in shock, Letho grinned toothily. "Can you stay down here for a while?"

Roy couldn't object to that. He nodded in resignation and saw them off. Letho and the woman went upstairs, leaning against each other. That woman's taste is interesting. So she's interested in burly baldies. No wait, she probably smelled the scent of crowns on him.

"He can't even hold back when his disciple's here." But then Roy thought about it, and he could understand it. They'd killed drowners and a dozen humans over a single week. Stress was inevitable, and release was important. Roy chose Gwent as an outlet, while Letho went for alcohol and women. Their interests were different, but their goal was the same.

Chapter 21

After Letho had gone upstairs with the lady, Roy stopped cheating as much. He knew he should lay low, so he lost a couple matches on purpose after winning a few. His opponent didn't lose too much, and people didn't think he won too much either. In reality though, he won quite some crowns. Twenty in an hour, but nobody realized he was cheating.

On the other hand, Roy noticed his opponent — a man in his thirties — cheat right under his nose. Gee, and I thought I was shameless enough. He could see how the man was cheating clearly, thanks to his seven points in Perception. It's so dumb it's laughable. He didn't make a fuss right away though. He was only a weak child after Letho had gone upstairs. If he were to anger the locals, he'd have to disturb Letho's fun time.

"You won a lot, boy. Why don't you treat us to a drink?" The pasty, bearded man thought Roy was a gullible boy who couldn't see through his cheating. He quickly took away ten crowns from Roy, much to the boy's surprise. Roy watched on, dumbfounded, and the man scoffed at him.

Lucky, the bearded man thought. This is one easy prey. The kid's a coward. Going to be a good day today. Once again, he tried to take from Roy, but this time, it was his deck — the Skellige deck everyone wanted.

Everyone looked on in curiosity, anger, fear, and delight, but none stood up for Roy. 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚘𝚟ｅｌ．𝚌ｏ𝚖

"Poor boy. Sparrow Triad's out for him."

"He shouldn't have stayed here alone. Should ask for the witcher's help now."

Then, Roy slammed something onto the table. All anyone saw was a flash in a blur, and next thing they knew, a dagger caked in dried blood had lodged itself into the Gwent deck, right between the bearded man's fingers. If he'd gotten any closer to the deck, his hand would've been the thing that was stabbed.

"Goddammit!" The man pulled back his hand as fast as possible, his pasty face turning deathly pale in shock. "W-where did this dagger come from? I-I didn't notice it." And then he realized he'd embarrassed himself. He was an adult man, but a scrawny boy had managed to scare him. "Do you know who I am, you little bastard?" He flew into a rage. "You're crossing the Sparrow Triad now, boy. Your days are numbered!"

Roy ignored the threat. He touched the crowns on the board with his left hand, and it disappeared without a trace. Then, he pulled his dagger out of the cards and blew on it gently. He'd changed after killing the bandits outside Aldersberg. Roy had killed animals, humans, and even monsters. The man before him was inexplicably funny despite his angry looks and threatening words.

"Oh, sorry." Roy smiled mirthlessly. "I'd come across wild dogs, drowners, and ghouls the entire time I followed the witcher around. Gotten used to having a weapon with me just in case. Well, I have to cut the heads off those monsters, or else…" Roy squinted at the man, his face contorted with an eerie cruelty far beyond his age. "They're going to kill me."

The bearded man's heart sank, and he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. For an instant, he saw a bunch of crimson tentacles coming for him, and the boy was the source of them, but when he looked at Roy again, the tentacles were nowhere to be found. Even so, he felt a chill creeping up on him. This kid's weird. Better not fight him for now.

"Fine. You got guts, boy. You can live for a while longer, but only because I'm not armed today. You'd better watch out the next time you're on the streets. The Sparrow Triad has its eyes on you," he spat, and he backed off swiftly. When he was near the inn's door, he felt something cold brushing across his head. The man reflexively touched the spot, and he met nothing but skin; his hair was gone.

The man gasped and turned around, only to see the dagger that had almost claimed his fingers embedding itself into the wall, its handle still quivering.

"You can leave after you give me back my sixteen crowns," Roy said coldly.

After the bearded man left the crowns behind and escaped in fear, everyone had lost their gusto for Gwent, fearing the revenge of the Sparrow Triad. A moment later, they scurried away in every direction.

Roy rubbed his numb arms and retrieved the dagger. That took all I had. It almost flew out of control. "That was close. I almost shot him in the head. That would have caused trouble."

Roy finally felt the side effects of the unbalanced development of his body. If his Dexterity was higher, he would have had better coordination, and the dagger throw wouldn't have taken as much of a toll as it did.

When the innkeeper noticed Roy had his head down, he thought the boy was scared. "You'd better leave as soon as possible, my friend. You can't take on a group of them no matter how good you are in combat."

"Not to worry," a rough, deep voice said, and Roy heard heavy footsteps coming from behind. "Allow me to introduce myself." A dwarf in a beret and fitted cape came up to Roy. The dwarf's shirt extended to his knees, and he was wearing a pair of pointed shoes paired with mid-calf socks. He was a bona fide dwarf.

Roy's eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he'd seen a non-human species after crossing over to the Witcher world. Or, to be more precise, an ancient species. The dwarf was barely five feet, and he was shorter than Roy, but he was tall compared to the average dwarf.

"I am Seville Hoger, a wine merchant living in Aldersberg."

"Hello, Mr. Seville. I'm Roy. Let me guess…" Roy steepled his fingers under his chin. "You're not here for me."

Seville's belly jiggled. "Yes." He had a gruff, hard voice, as if he were pushing it down. "I received news of a witcher's arrival in Aldersberg, and I'm here for him. May I ask what school he's from? Of course, I'll chase off that little sparrow for you no matter what."

"He's not from Cat School. Don't worry." Man, Cat School really knows how to antagonize everyone.

"I'll take care of that little sparrow for you as a token of my friendship. Gro, put the guests' bill on my tab," he told the innkeeper before leaving without hesitation.

As Roy saw him off, the boy's eyes turned starry for a moment. Whoa, that dwarf's seventy? Not obvious at all! So dwarves do have long lives, just like the legends told me. Nothing spectacular about his stats though. However, Roy noticed three interesting abilities of his.

'Resilience (Passive): Dwarves live long lives and possess powerful life forces. An adult dwarf has twenty more HP than humans.

Strong body (Passive): Dwarves are known for their proficiency with two-handed weapons and their great stamina. An adult dwarf has one more point in Strength and Constitution than humans do.

Stout (Passive): Their stout, fat bodies make them move slower than normal humans. Their looks are undesirable by every other race. Some even despise dwarves for their looks. Their Dexterity and Charisma are deducted by one point.'

Roy thought those skills could be called talents. And he wondered. If dwarves have talents, why don't humans? No, we do have talents. Or else strong, long-living races like dwarves and elves wouldn't be backed into a corner by humans.

Then the innkeeper broke his train of thought. "Lucky break, my friend. Mr. Seville came to check the accounts today. Since he's going to intervene, there's nothing to worry about now. The Sparrow Triad isn't your problem anymore."

"I thought he was just a wine merchant. Does the criminal underworld fear him?" Roy asked curiously.

"The wine industry is monopolized by the dwarves here since they are from an ancient race famous for their wine brewing and blacksmithing. As the nephew of Mahakam's elder dwarf, Brovar Hoger, Mr. Seville is responsible for the wine business in Aldersberg. The Sparrow Triad have to respect him if they want to survive in the city.

"What's his trouble then?"

"Mr. Seville…" Gro sighed. "He's been haunted by a nightmare for months now. He thinks phantoms are the culprits."

Chapter 22

Roy woke up the next morning feeling refreshed after his meditation session. After replacing sleep with meditation, Roy only had to rest for five hours a day, and he'd wake up fully recharged. He couldn't believe he could do that, for he used to be a weak insomniac in his past life. Even though his new body was younger and weaker, it wasn't a bad one. In fact, it was better than his old one.

Letho woke up earlier than he did. He was having wine and pie on the first floor, still looking inscrutable. If Roy hadn't known better, he wouldn't have thought Letho had a night of fun.

"Aren't you sleeping in?"

"Relaxing is relaxing. A witcher must not deprive himself of discipline."

As they chatted, Roy was just about to bring up the dwarf's request when Seville showed up. Seville's dark circles had worsened, and he looked exhausted. Even so, he kept himself awake and talked about his troubles to them.

Witchers didn't mind more requests, so Letho listened to him.

"The nightmares started three months ago. They keep haunting me from midnight to dawn. They're like demons who won't let me rest. I can't really sleep. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, and after a while, my health gets affected. Can you imagine that? I used to be the squirrel of Mahakam, the dwarf who can go without sleep for three days straight. But now? Now, I doze off if I don't concentrate. I don't feel like a strong dwarf anymore. I'm more like the gnomes of Tir Tochair.

"I scoured through Aldersberg, asked every doctor, but none of them knew what was wrong with me. I searched my home, but nothing weird came up, but I have a feeling something evil is in my house. It's cursing me, corrupting me, depriving me of peace. Nobody can help me, so please lend me a hand, Letho," the dwarf requested sincerely, the discrimination against witchers absent from his eyes.

Letho stared down in contemplation after listening to the request. He tapped the table with his pudgy fingers while Roy was trying to link the matter to the monsters he knew.

Letho gave his price. "Two hundred crowns." It was double the reward he got for killing the grave hag in Kaer. Obviously, the dwarf was loaded, and since different employers had different economic statuses, witchers were flexible with their pricings.

Even though it was expensive, Seville Hoger agreed to it without batting an eye.

"Now, take us to your home. We need to investigate."

As the main wine dealer of Aldersberg, Seville was a wealthy dwarf. His residence was in the western area, where the affluent lived, and it was surrounded by four towerhouses. That area took up a major part of the city. The rich, famous, and powerful of Aldersberg lived there, like the baron of Tavik, weapon and ore merchants, and wine merchants. The number of patrols and green infrastructure outnumbered that of the civilian area.

Beyond the walls of the affluent area stood the gigantic Mahakam mountains. Some bards teased that the mountains had been made by ancient nobles of Aldersberg to keep their troops from running away. Within the residence and outside its walls stood many dwarves with braided beards equipped with giant axes and hammers. They were sentries of the residence who kept the place and its residents safe.

The guards bowed when they saw Seville, their eyes filled with respect. So this guy's a respectable one in the dwarven society, huh?

Roy noticed that the outer walls were filled with patterns that resembled totems, but he couldn't make out what they meant. There were also carvings of Lebioda on some spots of the wall.

Once they entered the house, Seville waved his men down, leaving them in peace. And he yawned. "Just tell the guards when you finish checking the yard. They'll let you into the house for further investigation. I'm getting tired, so I'll be taking a nap." Seville suffered from sleep deprivation because of the nightmares, and he would take a nap whenever he had the time.

Letho and Roy started with their investigation once Seville had left. Letho observed the yard's structure. There was a small fountain in the center, and neatly trimmed, decorative plants surrounded them in an organized fashion. A large number of plants that were taller than a human were linked together, forming paths that turned into a small maze. Something sparkled within Letho's eyes, and he started searching in a direction.

Roy knew that Letho had activated his witcher senses, making him a radar that radiated microwaves. He went up to say, "I've always been curious about the way witchers track down monsters."

Letho was patient when it came to the witcher trade. He explained, "After witchers go through their mutations, their senses become different from a normal human's. Precisely speaking, they can reconstruct everything they see, smell, and hear through their senses, turning them into a vague line of smell, ripples of sounds, or sets of footprints. Those can lead them to their prey." He paused for a moment. "A witcher's senses are sharp. They can see further, hear clearer, and smell things normal humans can't, like the stench of blood that should have been long gone, the smell of monsters, and the scent of a strong perfume. And also the smell of wine in cellars," he added.

"If we just track while using those traces, eventually we'll reach the culprit," Letho continued, then he put on a solemn look. "But before you start doing that with your bounty after locating a suspicious trace, it'd be best you judge what kind of enemy you're going to face — whether it's something you can handle, or something you can only hide from. If you make the wrong judgment, you might get yourself killed from facing off against a terrible monster." Melancholy welled up within his eyes, as if he'd remembered something sad. "Whether you get it right or not depends on your experience. For example, drowners emit the smell of seaweed and the stench of fish, while ghouls will appear where there's the smell of rotten corpses. You'll see a hole in the ground with green fluids at the entrance where a pale widow burrows. And as for griffins, well, they only appear on mountains." Letho explained everything in detail patiently, while Roy listened, felt, and memorized it. ｂｅｄ𝚗ｏ𝚟𝚎𝚕.𝚌𝚘ｍ

"Now that I've told you about the monsters, can you give me your judgment based on my teachings and the clues in the yard, boy?" Letho had given him a test all of a sudden.

Roy rubbed his chin and went through the details of the monsters Letho told him about. "If it's just within this yard…" He hesitated. "We didn't see any weird footprints, so we can eliminate vampires who can turn invisible and hypnotize their prey. Katakan's not what we're looking for."

"You have a decent memory," Letho said, praising him for the first time in a while. "Alright, since katakan's not on the list, we'll have to go inside to search for more clues."

Chapter 23

Letho and Roy stepped over the bear skin rug, entering the great hall that glowed in resplendence under the candles. Meters away from them stood polished armor that gleamed under the light. The great hall was also lined with pastel-colored vases and china ornaments. A dozen expensive oil paintings hung on the walls, most of them portraits of other people. When Roy looked around, he realized one of the paintings depicted the emperor of Nilfgaard, Emhyr var Emreis, who took out the usurper years ago.

"Didn't expect him to hang an oil painting of the enemy's king in Aedirn," Roy said. "Seville knows how to butter people up."

"The dwarves have power. As long as he doesn't try to start a coup, the army can't do anything to him. And it's normal for dwarves to like Emhyr. At least he doesn't discriminate against non-human races."

"I don't think so." Roy shook his head. "The emperor of Nilfgaard is just using the non-human races," he mumbled almost inaudibly. "Witchers and Scoia'taels alike will be the victims of Emhyr's conquest of the north." But now that I'm here, I'm not letting the Viper School become Emhyr's tool.

They left the topic there and went ahead. Two servants were watering the plants in the vase beside the staircase leading to the second floor. Roy's eyes widened when he saw who they were. He wanted to laugh, but he held it in. The servants were dwarves. They wore skirts and were stout, and they had beards as thick as a grown man's, but they were… female.

"Respect the different races' customs," Letho whispered. He took out a satchel of white powder from his alchemy bag and spread it everywhere in the residence. At the same time, he explained, "This is dried black hellebore powder. It's a nice scent for humans, but pungent for some creatures."

"You have a clue about what the culprit is?" Roy asked, but Letho didn't answer. Roy went with him around the great hall, then the guest room on the second floor, and Seville's bedroom on the third floor. The dwarf was napping there. The witcher and Roy searched everywhere they went.

"Did you find something?" The dwarf who was roused by the commotion rubbed his eyes and yawned. When he took a whiff of the black hellebore's scent in the air, Seville calmed, and the frustration that had haunted him was gone.

"Not at the moment," Letho answered. "Do you have any secret chambers here aside from the third floor's room?"

Seville frowned, but he kept quiet.

"This concerns the culprit's capture," Roy said sternly. "You must tell me, or I might fail to capture the creature. No refunds."

Seville rubbed his braided beard intensely. A long while later, he sighed. "Very well then. I trust the Viper School's reputation. I wasn't going to refuse, but I needed time to think. This is important. There's a trapdoor beside the kitchen cabinet on the first floor. It leads… to the cellar. Be careful when you investigate. Do not destroy my wine barrels." He evaded their gazes, and when Seville came out from his bedroom, he held a key close to himself. "I'll be going with you."

"No. Give me the key. All you remember is that we're still searching your residence. Go back to sleep for an hour and forget everything that happened," Letho said hypnotically, and he drew a sign in front of the dwarf. Seville's eyes quickly lost focus, and he dumbly handed the key over to Letho. A moment later, he closed the bedroom's door, and a loud snore came from inside.

Roy looked surprised. "You hypnotized him?"

"He lied to me," Letho answered calmly. "Sometimes you have to adapt to find the truth." Since they had Seville's orders and key, they went into the kitchen without a hitch and found their way down to the cellar.

Despite it being a cellar, it was actually bigger than the house upstairs. Roy estimated that it was as big as the whole residence combined. Sconces lined one side of the wall, lighting up every corner of the cellar. The only thing in the room was wine. Barrels and barrels of it. There were two barrels on the ground, two on the rack, making them four barrels a group. They had signs hanging on them, showing the year and type of wine. Roy was fascinated, and he looked around.

"Grape wine from the year 1259. Honey wine from the year 1258. Nutty wine from the year 1257." The barrels in front were the younger ones. The further inside the barrel, the older the wine was. "Fiorano from the year 1200."

"Erveluce from the year 1158. Seville couldn't have stored all the wine made by dwarves in here, could he? There's even wine that's a hundred years old. Pity I don't like wine." Letho smacked Roy's shoulder, and Roy winced in pain. "You'll know the beauty of wine once you become a man," he lectured.

"I have no plans on becoming a drunkard."

One walk around the cellar would have taken them more than half an hour, but ten minutes later, Letho stopped in his tracks when he passed a barrel of dwarven liquor from the year 1198. His nose wiggled like a hunting dog's, and he rooted himself into his spot. Then he caressed the barrel and knocked on it. Roy heard nothing aside from the knocking sounds, but he smelled something.

"That smell…" Roy blurted out. His high Perception lent him a keen sense of smell. There was a rotten stench lingering near the barrels of wine they were examining. It was faint, but it was there.

Letho glanced at him in surprise. "Not everyone could've smelled that." Roy knew the smell belonged to a corpse, but Letho knew what kind of species the corpse belonged to. "Yes, this is the smell of a corpse, but the corpse of a human. The fifty-year-old dwarven liquor managed to cover most of the smell, but it can't fool a witcher."

Roy's heart skipped a beat. "You're saying there's a corpse in there?" He pointed at the barrel.

Letho nodded, his bushy eyebrow arched. "So that's why he wanted to follow us. He didn't want us to find out his little secret. I thought this was a little prank from a godling when I came here, but now I don't think so. It's more complex than that."

Chapter 24

"Who does the corpse in the barrel belong to?" Roy brushed the cool barrel in confusion, wanting to open it up to get his answer.

"Hiding a corpse in the cellar is dangerous for Seville. If he wants someone gone, he could have gone a hundred other ways. There's no need for him to hide a corpse in the cellar." Letho kept quiet for a moment. "Maybe the corpse is related to the nightmare that's haunting him, or maybe it's an unrelated secret. A secret he wants nobody to know."

"Should we open it then?" Roy clenched his fists, raring to go.

"Unauthorized actions will anger Seville. Not even Axii could wipe that memory from his and his servants' mind. No need to go that far for two hundred crowns. Keep your curiosity in check. Pretend we never came to the cellar. I'll try to wheedle something out of him later. Do as I say."

After they left the cellar, Letho went back to the third floor's bedroom and asked Seville to hide the key again. Roy was looking forward to when he would master Axii. It had helped him multiple times. If the target wasn't on guard, Axii would always take effect. Axii's a more handy sign than the others. It's one skill I must have if I want to get anything I want.

Seville had no recollection of the events from before he was hypnotized after he woke up. Instead, he looked less lethargic and more refreshed. "I slept for an hour?" He looked at the clock. "It's been a while since I slept so soundly." His eyes widened in delight, and he waved his fists. "That thing must be staying away now that you're here, witcher. Have you found anything today?"

The dwarf waited for the answer in excitement, but Letho stayed calm. "The creature's a cunning one, and it hides itself well. I'd like to know more if possible. Can you tell us about your nightmare, Mr. Seville?"

The color drained from Seville's face, as if he'd recalled something horrifying. The usually jolly dwarf looked hesitant. He was reluctant to talk about the nightmare in detail. "My nightmare is… terrifyingly bizarre. I can't explain it."

"Not even a witcher can help if you refuse to tell the truth."

"I-I'm sorry, but I-I just don't want to talk about it. My nightmare has nothing to do with the monster's capture, does it?"

Letho gave Roy a look, and he understood it was his time to talk. "On the contrary, it's important for the monster's capture. Have you heard about a type of monster called hym?" Seville shook his head, and Roy started describing. "Hyms are monsters from the Conjunction of the Spheres. They have no corporeal body, so the only way for them to survive is to live within someone else."

"L-Like a parasite?" The little color left on Seville's face drained, and his fists clenched.

Roy nodded. "It's very particular about its target. Hyms usually live within the bodies of those who have sinned, or they might take over animals. A hym absorbs its host's fear, regret, shame, and every negative emotion to construct a nightmare based on its host's true experiences. It will evoke the host's negative emotions, corrupting their mind and eventually destroying it."

At that point, Seville's beard was trembling along with his lips. "Oh Lebioda. I'm haunted by a formless demon? How did this happen?"

"Don't worry." Roy got into character. "Listen to me. Only the host can hear a hym's murmurs. It attacks its host's mind through illusions and nightmares, taking the host's life force away. They always end up having poor sleep because they're haunted by nightmares. The nightmares will only become more frequent and more realistic. They will never stop, unless the host loses their mind, goes insane, or commits suicide."

The last sentence finally broke Seville. He gripped Letho's right hand tightly, his face as white as a tombstone. It was marked with uncontrollable fear. "Letho, this demon, this hym… it must be the one tormenting me. You must get rid of it for me."

Letho remained inscrutable, while Roy continued. "There's a condition for that. The demon is a troublesome one. Normal attacks won't work on it. We must lure it out using your fears, and only then can a witcher like Letho kill it. That's why you have to tell us what's haunting you. You have to tell us the sin you've committed."

Seville closed his eyes in agony. "Sorry, but I-I have to think about it." The mention of the nightmare made him snap out of his fear. He started getting suspicious of the pair, worried that they might find out about his secret. "It's getting late. I'll ask the servants to prepare dinner. We'll talk about this when you come tomorrow."

Letho and Roy felt slightly defeated since they didn't learn anything about Seville's nightmare. But they didn't force Seville to talk more.

"You should have cast Axii on him again, Letho. Forced something out of him."

"It's not as simple as you think. If I cast Axii on the same target three times over a short span of time, it could be ineffective against him. And now that he has his guard up, Axii has a higher chance of failure."

Letho shook his head when he noticed Roy's look of disappointment. "Patience, boy. A smart hunter always waits for the perfect chance to deliver the fatal strike on their prey. That's how satisfaction comes by." Witchers didn't risk their lives solving requests just for the money. They were also looking for satisfaction upon the request's completion.

Calling the meal they'd received that night dinner was an understatement. As if trying to apologize for his lack of cooperation, Seville had treated them to a feast. Everything under the sky was on that table that night, and the Mahakam produce added more color and flavor to the food. It was varied, incredible, and sumptuous. It was the best meal Roy had ever eaten since he'd crossed over to the Witcher world.

Roy was still burping when he left the residence that night, and his frustration was mostly gone. The moon had risen, blessing the land with its silvery glow.

"Come to my room when we get back to the inn, boy."

"Why?"

"To continue the tracking lesson. It was unfinished. This is the first request you're taking part in, so it's a good chance to follow up and learn more."

The pair had exited the affluent area as they spoke, entering a dark, quiet alley. Suddenly, a man in a black cloak walked up to them. Half of his face was hidden by the darkness, but they could see it was a young, teen boy, with a scar the length of an index finger below his right eye. "The tyranny of Tavik has plagued this land, innocent people of Aldersberg!" He sounded fanatic and angry. "The revolution shall prevail!" He stuffed a pamphlet into Roy's hands before disappearing into the darkness, nowhere to be found.

Roy came out of the tunnel so he could see the pamphlet more clearly. He asked the tipsy Letho to read it out for him. "The great leader of the revolution, Vernon Ryan, has toiled for the rights of the people, but Baron Tavik, in all his cruelty, detained a leader of the people for three months! If there's an ounce of conscience in you, come to the Plaza of Lebioda at three in the afternoon tomorrow to join the protest march! The pioneers of the revolution shall never die! Their flames of purity shall burn that fool of a baron to ashes!"

Chapter 25

"Witchers don't interfere with politics." Letho made the decision for Roy and tore the pamphlet apart. Roy wasn't planning on joining the march either. The revolutionists' robbery outside the city left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

No matter how much the revolutionists would fight against the army, the people would always be the victims. He could imagine how the army would capture the people of Aldersberg en masse during the protest march, and the wails of agony that would follow.

When they arrived at the residence the next morning, Letho and Roy followed one of Seville's men inside. Seville had been waiting, and he waved away all his guards and servants when the pair came in.

He stared down, biting his lip. His arms were crossed nervously as he paced back and forth. A while later, he let out a long sigh. "Can you guarantee you won't tell a soul about it? Can you promise me that? Not a single person… No. Not even the ancient races can know about what I'm about to tell you, nor can any other living being." Seville looked up, his gaze pleading.

Letho and Roy looked at each other. The dwarf's going to believe us without even a contract? Seville knew what they were thinking, and he answered, "I have no choice. I can't take that monster's torture anymore. T-That hym is going to kill me." His bloodshot eyes widened. Obviously, he hadn't rested well after Letho and Roy's departure. "Besides, if promising me isn't enough, I can pay you. I believe everyone is interested in crowns. I'm doing all this so I can feel safe." He smiled bitterly.

Letho arched his brow. As one of the Viper School's remaining members, his pride would never allow him to lie about a vow. "Money can buy most people, but not a witcher. You didn't ask for a vow before we accepted the request. Unlike a promise, a vow is the power of fate, just like the Law of Surprise. And fate does not allow anyone to go against it. A witcher never makes a vow easily." Letho raised his index finger. "You'll have to increase the reward."

Seville's face twitched, but he was delighted. The more serious Letho was, the more credible, or at least that was what Seville thought. Roy snuck into the conversation at that point. He showed five fingers. "Fifty crowns for me. As for the witcher here, all you need to do is increase the reward by a hundred crowns, and you'll have a Viper School witcher's promise."

They had a deal. The bounty was raised from two hundred crowns to three hundred and fifty, but it was affordable for the rich dwarf.

"On the name of the Viper School, I, Letho of Gulet, promise to never reveal the secret Seville Hoger will be telling me today to any human, ancient race, or living being. If I break this promise, I shall never see the day the Viper School makes its return. The gods are my witnesses."

"Um… on the name of Melitele, I, Roy, promise to never reveal to anyone the secret Seville Hoger shall tell me today, or…" Roy didn't believe in Lebioda or gods like Melitele, but he wasn't lying. He would take the secret with him to the grave.

Half an hour later, Letho and Roy came into the third floor's bedroom along with Seville. Letho lit a flame in the fireplace with Igni, and he did the same to four torches that were as tall as an average adult before placing them at the four corners of the bed. The bedroom was lit up, and no shadows could be seen.

"Please lie on the bed, Mr. Seville."

The dwarf obliged. He covered himself nervously with his blanket.

Letho said, "It's only the three of us in this room. You can talk about your secret now. Talk about the nightmare that has been haunting you."

Seville closed his eyes, his face contorted in pain, but he started telling his story. "This is a story about my good friend, Ken. Ken comes from Redania. His father is a half-elf, while his mother is a human. Yes, he's part-elf, a being destined for greatness. He looks just like a human, but Ken is a wise man. He has a quote: 'Wine corrupts minds.' Because of that, he never drinks alcohol. He has helped me greatly after coming to the Mahakam mountain range. Thanks to him, I grew from the insignificant nephew of Brovar Hoger to a famous individual. In the end, I managed to wrest the right to the wine business in Aldersberg from Zoltan Chivay and the other dwarves."

Seville paused for a moment. "I owe him a lot, and he's my best friend, but I know he'll never work under anyone for long. Once we came to Aldersberg, he found a new goal and left my team. Since he was a child, Ken has seen his father being tortured and discriminated against by humans because of his elven bloodline. His father has never enjoyed the same equal social status as humans, and because of that, he despises inequality and discrimination. Ken, ever so passionate, took action to go against that system.

"As you know, witcher, Aedirn's high taxation rate is one of the inequalities Ken saw, so he, in all his wisdom, gathered people who would fight against the system. Of course, he did it in secret. He didn't care about anyone's race or past. Anyone who had the passion for equality and rebellion were welcome in his team. They enjoyed free food and accommodation, though I sponsored a part of the expenses. The people of Aedirn might be born with a rebellious streak, and thanks to that, his team grew quickly, to the point where Baron Tavik had to pay importance to them.

"The advent of Ken's forces broke the balance of Aldersberg, which was made up of the baron's troops, the people of Aldersberg, the Sparrow Triad, and the Mahakaman dwarves. The baron, the moderate part of the balance, started negotiations with Ken. It went well in the beginning, and almost everyone was happy with the outcome. The taxes on peasants and merchants were lowered by one fifth. I told Ken he should stop when he was ahead, but he wasn't happy with the results. After a while of peace, he started pressuring the baron again. A good man's fury can demolish the entirety of the Mahakam mountains — that's what I always say. The baron was infuriated by Ken's actions, and he issued a bounty on his head."

Roy's eyes shone at that point. He could guess who that Ken character really was.

"He came to me to escape the troops' search. As his friend, I took him in, of course. I swear on Mahakam's name, I hid him in the place with the most cover in the residence."

Roy and Letho showed no change in their expressions, as if they knew nothing of what was to come.

"The cellar contains too much wine for the troops to search. And I forbade them from opening the lids so my wine wouldn't get spoiled. Not desiring to cross the Mahakaman dwarves, the baron didn't pursue the matter any further. Of course, they hadn't noticed that Ken was hiding in a barrel of sixty-year-old dwarven liquor. Ken was safe. Very safe." Seville smiled bitterly. "But I had forgotten one thing: Ken has never drunk even a drop of wine in his life. He's worse at drinking than a newborn. When I went back to the barrel he was in, he'd fainted from the scent of the liquor. Ken was lying in the liquor, his face red. He looked like he was sleeping, but no matter what I did, he wouldn't wake up." Seville paused. "H-He died." Seville sat up and held Letho's beefy hands. He looked agitated, his heart threatening to burst forth from his chest. "How ludicrous! Fate played a cruel joke on him! A wise man who'd never had any wine died in my wine cellar! I would dream of Ken every night. He'd demand to know why I killed him with my wine. I have let him down."

Letho had an incredulous expression after learning about the whole matter from Seville. The guy had never had a drop of liquor for as long as he'd lived, but he'd died in a barrel of liquor. Ironic.

"I-I'm a bastard. I deserve the nightmares. I know I've let him down, but I didn't kill him," the dwarf muttered unintelligibly as tears streaked down his face. He covered his face, bawling like a big child. Roy's lips twitched at the sight.

"Alright. We get the situation now. Calm down, Mr. Seville. Come with us to the cellar. If what you say is true, then the cellar is the place you fear the most. If I'm right, the hym will most likely show its true form there."

"Huh? C-Can I not go?" Seville hugged himself in fear. He was in a dilemma. Seville wanted to see the monster that had been haunting him for months, but he couldn't overcome his fear.

Letho pretended to think about it for a moment. "Alright. You can wait for us outside the cellar."

"H-Here's the key."

Chapter 26

Letho lit a few torches when they arrived at the cellar's staircase, illuminating Seville. "Stay here with Mr. Seville, Roy. I'll go in and kill that monster." Letho gazed at Seville, his eyes gleaming. "Keep quiet and try not to feel any fear, or the hym will grow stronger by absorbing it. It'll take more work to kill it then."

Seville froze after getting this order. He would've even stopped breathing if that were possible.

"You'll have to talk to him, Roy."

Roy nodded, looking concerned. Seville Hoger's one bizarre dwarf. That corpse in the barrel is probably a big part of the reason for Seville's success.

After Letho had disappeared into the wine cellar, Roy and Seville looked at each other, an eerie silence descending upon them. "Let's play a game, Mr. Seville." Roy gave him a toothy grin. "Let's play something good. How about a Gwent match?" Money wasn't a problem for Seville, but it was for Roy.

Seville put his index finger against his lips and turned away to look in the direction Letho left. He was uninterested by Roy's proposition.

"The more you're worried, the higher the chance the hym will come to you. Besides, is there anything better than a Gwent match to pass the time in this kind of situation?"

The mention of the hym made Seville lean against the wall by reflex. He had a look of surprise on his face when Roy pulled out two Gwent decks out of thin air. Roy still had that toothy grin on his face.

Seville shook his head and declined the offer. "Sorry, but I don't play Gwent."

Roy didn't give up, even after the refusal. On the contrary, he kept trying to persuade Seville. "The rules are simple. Once you master them, you'll find it's even better than wine."

Seville's attention shifted, and he stopped craning his neck to look at where Letho went. "Well, didn't expect someone as young as you to be a gambler, but you got one thing wrong. Aside from ores, wine is the best thing for us Mahakaman dwarves. Gwent is just a pastime for us. Take my advice and work with Letho. Once you make some money, open up a business, get a wife, and have some kids. Don't keep playing Gwent, or it'll bite you in the ass one day."

"Alright, fine." Roy shrugged and stopped trying to persuade Seville. "What a shame. I wanted to see what the Scoia'tael deck looked like," he mumbled.

"WHAT?" Seville roared, and he shot up like a bristled lion. Roy swore Seville's bushy eyebrows were standing upright. "Where did you hear about Scoia'tael?" He was curious and panicked, the urge to know pushing his fear for the hym away.

"Scoia'tael's the alliance against humans made up of non-human species, isn't it?" Roy covered his mouth the moment he said that. Scoia'tael's movements were mostly underground before the first Northern War. They hadn't appeared in public yet, but Roy had let it slip.

Seville's face scrunched up, his expression bizarre. "A few years ago, an organization by that name lured a lot of the Mahakaman dwarves away with their extremely racist ideology. The neutral Mahakaman dwarves, led by Brovar Hoger, stand against them, but only the ancient races know about it. Naturally, it's normal for me to know about it, but how did you manage to find out about Scoia'tael?"

Roy was about to answer when an abrupt and big crash stopped him. There was inexplicable magic within the crash, and Seville was reminded of the moment a siege weapon crashed against a city gate. Even the cellar's ground trembled slightly. Roy and Seville were also shivering.

"T-this is Aard! The hym's going to die soon!" Roy roared before leaving Seville for the barrels in the front, craning his neck to look inside the cellar.

Seville's train of thought had been interrupted by the commotion the Aard sign had caused. He'd stopped asking Roy about how he knew about Scoia'tael, and instead looked inside nervously.

"Your tricks are useless against me, foul demon!" A strong roar came from deep within the cellar, and Letho leaped over the wine barrel, agile as a cat. When he glanced at Roy and Seville, his face was filled with black, gnarly veins, and he looked like a creature from hell.

Seville screamed, worry and horror showing up on his face. "Is Letho's face hurt? Did the hym curse him?"

Roy stared down and heaved a sigh. "Don't worry, Mr. Seville. That's just the side effect of the witcher's potion. That demon is no match for Letho." 𝑏𝘦𝑑𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝘰𝘮

The moment he said that, sparks suddenly flew from the barrels that were covering Letho and the monster. The sparks moved gorgeously, like comets across the night sky, but the heat was contorting their surroundings, blurring the cellar. "That's Igni! Letho's going all out." Roy gave Seville a look of reassurance, but Seville looked on in horror. Then he realized something, and the dwarf had a bitter look on his face. He requested, almost inaudibly, "Be careful, Letho. That's a barrel of fifty-year-old dwarven liquor."

Letho leaped through the cellar, but Roy and Seville could only see his shadow flying across the wall. He jumped everywhere, attacking the darkness again and again and again. Afterimages of his short sword lingered even after his attacks were done, and he moved like a viper — swift and deadly.

And then they heard wails that could only come from a monster. It was shrill, bloodthirsty, and fierce. Every time the creature shrieked, Seville would tremble in fear.

"It is done." Roy had judged that with certainty, and at the same time, a bizarre shadow appeared on the wall. It was a creature with limbs as gnarly as branches, its torso as tall as the cellar itself. It looked humanoid, but was trapezoid in shape, and countless twisted antlers protruded from its sides.

Roy finally showed surprise, and he tried to recall the monsters that matched with the silhouette on the wall. Not even ignes fatui — which haunted the mists — dolls of water hags, woodland spirits, or leshens of the forest were as bizarre as the creature was. The monster looked incorporeal. Its body was shifting, contorting, and trembling, as if it were a leaf being blown by the wind.

It had only been a few moments since the monster had appeared, but for Seville, it had felt like an eternity. The shadow roared at the witcher who was taking cover behind the wine barrel, and it trembled for one last time before melting like ice under the hot sun.

After witnessing the monster's demise, Seville heaved a sigh of relief, and he stood up straight. A heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked cheerful, energetic even. "This is the end of it, then?" He grinned toothily.

A short while later, Letho's footsteps reached them, and the witcher came out from the darkness of the cellar.

Chapter 27

Letho looked exhausted, his body covered with minor cuts. "The hym is dead." He showed his hand to the dwarf, revealing a handful of grey powder that emanated a faint, unpleasant smell. When Roy recognized the familiar scent coming from the powder, he smiled. I knew it, he thought.

"Thank you, Letho!" Seville took the handful of powder and squeezed it, venting his fear out on it. Tears welled up in his eyes as he could finally be at ease now. Letho was far stronger than he'd thought, and a chill ran down his spine when he recalled how intense the battle had been. But it worked out for the best. The monster that has haunted me for months is dead. I'm a free dwarf.

He tossed the ashes into the air and took out a note from his pocket. "This is your reward." He handed it to Letho with gratitude. "You can exchange these for crowns in any Vivaldi, Giancardi, or Cianfanelli Bank."

Letho glanced at the amount written on the note before pocketing it. He knew where the dwarven banks were; they had branches in almost every city. 𝙗𝙚𝒅𝒏𝒐𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Witcher, Roy. Us dwarves have always supported the rebels from the shadows. It's to balance the forces in Aldersberg. Civilians and merchants alike can profit from it. If anyone were to find out that Vernon Ryan, the leader of the revolutionists, died in my wine cellar, the Mahakaman dwarves would be seen as the baron's forces. The balance will be broken. That's why you must keep this a secret."

"Of course," Letho answered. "I will not tarnish the name of the Viper School."

"You have my word too," Roy chimed in.

Then Seville gave them a deep bow. "I shall remember what you did for me today. From now on, you'll be my honored guests. My door is open for you anytime. But let's put formalities aside. It's getting late, so why don't I treat you to lunch?"

"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Seville, but this is just business. Since you've paid us, you owe us nothing anymore." Letho hadn't taken the compliment. "Though, we wouldn't mind a meal."

Seville left them for a while after they'd returned to the great hall. Roy looked at Letho curiously, as if surprised Letho would lie. Letho didn't do anything at first, but he was angered when Roy wouldn't take his eyes off him.

"Is there really a demon in the cellar?" Roy whispered.

Letho's reply was a look of surprise. "What do you think?"

"Those weren't the remains of a hym. They were wyvern feces, weren't they? I'd smelled that for nights. That must've been what that was." Roy was fairly certain that the 'ashes of the hym' Letho gave Seville was the same thing he used to chase wild animals away when they were camping in the wilds — wyvern feces.

"Since he wants to get rid of a demon, I created one for him and 'killed' it. Gives him peace of mind, and I hold up my end of the deal. He'll never be at peace if we never 'kill' the demon." Letho paused. "You'll get it when you're older. Sometimes, the darkness within someone's heart is more terrifying than the monsters we hunt. Now that we've completed the request, Seville can at least sleep well." Letho looked up at the illuminated ceiling as he lamented the dwarf's experience.

Can Seville really sleep after we got rid of that imaginary hym for him? Roy had his misgivings. But Letho's the experienced one here. He has better judgment than I do. "I have another question. How did you make that hym shadow? I was almost fooled."

After hearing the question, Letho extended his hands out quietly, his calloused fingers entwining together, and they danced like a butterfly before the candlelight.

"Letho, you can start a career at the theater whenever you retire from being a witcher."

Seville, Letho, and Roy were having lunch in the great hall. After the threat had been eliminated, Seville finally became more talkative, though he only spoke of his experience in Mahakam and the interesting things there.

The dwarves' homeland stayed neutral no matter how serious the Northern Wars became. Because of that, they managed to survive for a long period of time.

No matter if it was Aedirn in the east, Temeria in the north, or Nilfgaard in the south, none managed to conquer the Mahakaman dwarves. Aside from wine, Mahakam had their ore. More than half of the ore, foundries, and forges were in Mahakam. They had countless master blacksmiths who produced the best steel and weapons in the north.

Any nation who would dare challenge the autonomy of the dwarves would incur their wrath. That nation would never get any weapons or equipment from Mahakam. That fact alone ensured their prosperity. On a side note, dwarves couldn't reproduce as fast as humans did, and they would only mature at fifty-five. Since they weren't enough to conquer, they were fine living in Mahakam.

Dwarves had the best lives amongst non-human races, at least in that era. However, there were also those who'd left their homeland or joined the underground group of Scoia'tael. They'd gotten involved in robberies or worked as bankers, traders, or blacksmiths in human settlements. Even though their own brethren looked down on them, their talents at least provided a good life for them. There was a hint of pride and envy in Seville's voice at that point. As the dealer for wine, he had far less clout than weapon or ore dealers.

Seville hadn't stopped talking once he'd gotten into the mood. He would occasionally ask Letho about his life and praise him in an attempt to leave a good impression. It was a good lunch.

"I point my weapons at my enemies, but I toast my friends. Have another drink with me, my friends." After their meal, Seville came up to them and pretended to hesitate. "I have one other request."

"You can't be thinking about us disposing of that corpse for you, can you?" Roy said jokingly.

But Seville's eyes lit up. "I expected nothing less from Letho's assistant. That is what I have in mind."

What? Dispose of the rebel leader's corpse? Roy shook his head incessantly without even thinking. Just because we shared a meal doesn't mean we have to risk our lives for you.

"I heard that the revolutionists are going to have a protest march this afternoon. They're going to force the baron to release the guy who died in your barrel," Roy said. Doing this at this point is suicide.

Seville didn't give up. He looked at Letho pleadingly, but Letho shrugged after just one moment. "Sorry, but that isn't what we witchers are great at. Can't make that money, I'm afraid. You can ask someone else for that. Besides, you're powerful enough to find a way to get rid of the corpse. We won't be interfering."

Seville caressed his beard, looking vexed. "Even though the baron's army has searched my residence, they might come again. Honestly, the baron's listed me as someone to be kept under surveillance. His eyes will be on me the moment I leave my residence, and I don't want anyone else to find out about this secret. I can't trust anyone but you two."

"If it's really that hard, why don't you just find a spot to burn the corpse?" Roy suggested.

Seville shook his head. "He died because of my oversight. If I defile my friend's remains, I'll never find peace. I want to make it up to him by giving him back to the revolutionists. But you can't let them know I'm related to this."

"No," Letho said, refusing him firmly. Sending their leader's body back to them isn't an act of charity; it's an insult. Even if we ignore the dangers along the way, and the revolutionists who can show up whenever they want, how are we supposed to get away once we make the delivery?

The dwarf stared down in humility, then looked at them expectantly. His gaze sent a chill down Roy's spine, but Roy brainstormed and came up with a plan.

"Let me think about it. How big is the barrel that contains the corpse?"

Seville told Roy the measurements. He'd known his wine cellar for decades. Seville knew every barrel's measurement by heart. "Do you have any ideas, Roy?" Even Letho can't find a way around it. Can this plain, young man do it?

Roy pondered about it in silence. Thanks to his knowledge of maths from his past life, he managed to calculate the barrel's size. It could fit in his inventory space, albeit barely. However, he wasn't sure if it was fine to intervene, so he glanced at Letho, and the witcher shook his head.

"Sorry, Mr. Seville. I can't do it."

Seville was crestfallen. "Very well, then. I won't impose myself further. But if you have a change of heart, you're welcome here anytime. If you can help me with this matter, you shall be my sworn friends for life."

Chapter 28

"I know you're a smart boy, and you wanted to help Seville settle his problem," Letho told Roy after leaving the dwarf's residence. "But listen to me this time, and stay out of it. Witchers should always stay neutral in political fights. This is our principle, and our way of survival."

Roy thought Letho looked funny as he lectured him in earnest, for he and the Auckes brothers would break that principle in the future by assassinating the kings of the Northern Kingdoms, completing the hardest political power play. A perfect example of what not to do. Even though Letho was holding to his principle at the moment, Roy didn't think that was a good thing.

Maybe staying neutral is the reason why witchers go into decline. Nobody can stay away from trouble when chaos is brewing. If Roy could pass the Trial of the Grasses, he thought he'd try his best to change the school. Get them to go along with the times.

The afternoon sunlight shone onto the land, but none of its warmth reached them. Letho and Roy went past Plaza of Lebioda on the way to Walls Inn, and a shrill wail made them stop.

If the pamphlet the caped man had spread last night was true, those who wanted to rebel would be attending the march at the plaza at the moment. However, Roy didn't see the sea of people he'd expected, but instead saw the state of chaos, where rubbish was strewn everywhere, just like how tourist spots in his past life looked every time tourists left. And there was a wailing woman there.

She was unkempt, in torn clothes, and stared dumbly at the sky, her face streaked with ruined makeup, and she was scarlet from her cries. She looked pitiful, and yet, inexplicably funny. The woman was sitting on the ground, mumbling like a madwoman as she patted the shoulder of the man laying on her legs.

The people who saw them gossiped about what had happened. There were those who pitied the woman and the man, but also those who laughed at them.

"How could the soldiers do that? The man's head was smashed in by their shields. His skull must have been crushed."

"He was just asking for it when he joined the parade to go against the baron. Everyone else scurried off quickly, but that oaf just wouldn't run."

"I didn't expect an honest person like him to be a revolutionist."

"Can you keep quiet? He'd been nice to everyone when he'd been alive. Also, we wouldn't be paying lower taxes if not for the rebels. Respect the dead, you lot."

"That poor woman. She lost her husband, and they have no children. How is she supposed to survive?"

Roy stared at the face of the unmoving man, for he had no courage to look at the woman who was in despair. "Such a shame. He's nothing but the revolutionists' cannon fodder. I wonder who'll take his widow in."

Letho was as inscrutable as ever. "Set your pity aside. Haven't you seen enough corpses outside the city? Politics have nothing to do with us. Let's go. I have something to tell you in the inn."

After they had left the plaza, a man with a cart came up to the woman and took the corpse away as she wailed.

Once they came back to the inn, Letho placed a satchel of crowns onto the table. "Couldn't have done it without your help. As per the witchers' rule, you get a share of the reward. Fifty crowns, and not one less."

"You're splitting the reward again?" Roy was surprised by the split, since Letho was the heavyweight in the whole request. Roy was just a minor character. "You can keep it. We don't have to be this meticulous." Letho had been the one paying their expenses ever since Roy had started following him. The boy didn't pay even a single crown.

After taking the money from the dead rebels and winning thirty crowns from the Gwent matches at the inn, Roy had a hundred and twenty crowns at hand. That could last him a while.

"I told you that was the rule. It concerns my principles." Letho stared at him, unblinking. "Also, I'm officially telling you that you're going to pay for your expenses yourself starting from tomorrow. I'm not going to pay a single crown."

"You have to be joking." Roy's face stiffened. No wonder he's splitting the money. So this is what he has in mind. But why though? "Why are you leaving me to my own devices after taking me to Aldersberg? What's the meaning of this?"

Letho wasn't angered by the questioning. "We'll have to prepare the potions and the necessities for the Trial of the Grasses for you. That's going to cost a lot. We still need a few rare ingredients and mutagens too," he said. "Can you not feel it? Your training is different from what the Viper School teaches." Letho gesticulated clumsily. "If we continue with our traditions, you'll be well fed and sheltered, but you'll also be locked in Gorthur Gvaed and trained for years. You'll never enjoy anything there. Auckes, Serrit, and I think that being in this kind of state weakens the trainees' will to live. The 100% failure rate of the Trial of the Grasses over the past twenty years relates to this. It's time to change if we don't want the Viper School to disappear. The old witchers usually only start taking requests after they finish school. But now, it's also a part of the test. Only by supporting yourself can you know how hard it is to make money. That's the only way you'll treasure it. And only by forming a deep bond with the material world can you stare death down in the trial," Letho concluded.

Roy kept quiet. He thought what Letho had said was sophism, but he had a point. One of the training methods involved locking the disciple up, while another let them do whatever they wanted. Letho went for the second one, though Roy had some objections. "If we spend all our time working, how are we supposed to train?"

"Well, you seemed to have well handled it along the way." Letho patted his shoulder. "I trust you can find the balance, boy. Don't forget what you learned. It'll help you survive."

"Is this a challenge?"

"If you think it is. Or it can be a test, if you wish."

Roy relented. He'd been angered in the beginning, but excitement welled up within him after he'd calmed down. Can I survive in a big city like Aldersberg with my own skills? "Are you leaving me?" Roy asked. He noticed the hints in Letho's explanation.

"Don't worry," Letho answered. "Just a temporary separation. I have to get an ingredient for your preparatory potion, and it's in a dangerous spot. Going solo makes it easier for me, so take this chance to explore. Once I get back, the only time you'll be alone is after you pass the trial."

Roy smiled bitterly. In other words, I'm left behind because I'm too weak, and I would've been a burden. "What's this preparatory potion you talked about?"

"It's a potion with a lower toxicity level. It'll help you adapt to the Decoction of the Grasses. You'll need it, since it can gradually increase one's resistance to poison. Can't just take the Decoction of the Grasses right away. It's too poisonous. All the trainees would die."

Roy could understand why Letho wanted to go alone. "How long will you be gone? Will I be learning anything else?"

"About a month or two. Give me a moment." Letho took out a black leather note from the horse's saddlebag. "You know a lot of herbs now, so it's time to start potion-making. There are more than a dozen recipes here, and the note has some common monster traits written in it. Should be enough to last you a while."

"Humans use normal potions, while witchers use potions and decoctions brewed with magic. This is going to be your basic alchemy training. That's all I have to say, boy. Time is of the essence." He patted Roy's shoulder. "You're a disciplined one. Don't disappoint me."

"Wait. Do you still have that Dragon's Dream you used against those drowners?" Roy had to get something to protect himself after Letho's departure.

PR/N: For those who don't remember, Dragon's Dream is a kind of alchemy bomb infused with flammable gas.

Letho thought about it before handing a green, glass canister to him. "You don't know how to cast Igni, so Dragon's Dream won't be of any use. Dancing Star's a better choice. Once this canister is smashed, a circle of fire with a ten-feet radius will appear. Even if it's underwater, the effect's going to last for a long time." Letho warned, "Be careful when you use this. It's the last one in stock. The materials alone cost a hundred crowns. Keep this as your trump card, and don't use it unless absolutely necessary."

"I understand," Roy answered. "And how am I supposed to know when you're back?"

"I can find you as long as you're still in the city."

Letho left without another word, and a short while later, he was but a little speck in Roy's eyes. Roy kept Dancing Star in his inventory space, feeling safer with it around.

When he opened the old, ancient, leather notebook, the words inside jumbled up and floated around him, giving him a headache. He realized one big miscalculation. I probably only know about a hundred words in common speech, and that's including my parents' names and the herbs Letho taught me. How am I supposed to learn this on my own?

Chapter 29

Roy made some calculations. A room in an inn wasn't something a civilian could afford in a city like Aldersberg. Food and accommodation alone would cost seven crowns a day. If Letho were to be absent for a month and a half, Roy would be spending more than two hundred crowns. That was more money than he had on him.

And that was excluding other expenses, like lessons for common speech. He was planning on getting a class for that during Letho's absence. Forever being illiterate wasn't on his agenda since it would hinder him in his future career. Knowledge and books came at a steep price, especially in cities like Aldersberg. Learning is going to be expensive here.

Roy checked out of the expensive room and detailed his plan out in his mind. First, he'd have to rent a cheap spot, ideally one that would cost a crown a day. He'd need a big, hidden space nearby to sustain his daily training. Roy wasn't going to ask Seville for help, for he'd just refused the dwarf's request. Asking him for help right away would be a weakness on Roy's side.

After that, he'd have to get a job that could make him some quick money. He couldn't just spend and not earn. Roy had to be prepared for Letho's long-term absence.

And finally, he'd need a reliable teacher whom he could learn common speech from. I'll try to haggle with them about the pay.

Roy spent the whole afternoon asking five landlords about their rooms for rent. Most landlords tried to take advantage of him because he was young and an outsider. The cheapest room cost more than three crowns per day, and that was excluding meals.

That made Roy realize that finding a cheap, suitable room in the city was unrealistic, so he went to the city gates and asked people around there. To his surprise, he managed to find a spot before sundown.

Behind the southern gate of Aldersberg, Roy was led through a wheat field that gleamed golden by a man in his thirties. The man was gaunt and stubbled. He was wearing a white shirt, a pair of white pants, and a beanie of the same color. Eventually, they came to a piece of land that housed a gigantic watermill and a few houses. The man was Hank, the owner of the watermill.

It was nearly sundown when they arrived. The setting sun sprinkled golden dust on the four houses sitting near the watermill. The smell of wheat wafted through the air as the autumn breeze blew across the fields, the fallen leaves dancing in the air. As the watermill was slowly running its course, water flowed across it. If Roy could stop time, the scene beside the river would've looked like an oil painting.

Roy took in the scenery as he followed Hank around. When his gaze fell on the coop on the right side of the watermill, Roy looked closer. He saw a young lady in a white apron with her back facing them. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail, and she was bending over to feed the chickens with the feed from her dustpan.

She was petite in stature. But that wasn't the point. The point was the young lady's back was protruded. She's a hunchback.

When Hank noticed where Roy was looking, he smiled awkwardly. "My daughter is very ill, my friend. That's why she's in that state. Did she scare you? I'll chase her away right now."

Because of his ugly daughter, nobody would rent Hank's empty room no matter how low the price was. Now that this idiot's here, I'm not going to let him go that easily. This boy is going to be easy to negotiate with.

"No." Roy shook his head. He wasn't someone who would laugh at the disabilities of others. "I don't mind her. Just take me to the room."

The girl in the chicken coop heard their conversation, and she turned around. When she saw Roy and her father, the girl stumbled to hide in the storehouse. The way she ran was awkward. Her legs were of unequal lengths, and her shoulders weren't leveled. Whenever she tried to walk, she would sway and limp. Roy was reminded of a limping, old woman when he saw the girl running away.

The room Hank was renting to him was plain and simple. There was nothing but a bed made out of hay and a blanket. The room was clean, though shabby when compared to the inn rooms that were decked out in feather blankets, delicate furniture, french windows, and full body mirrors.

Roy didn't complain though. After surviving in the wilds with Letho, he didn't mind what bed he had. Ever since he came to this world, he'd led an extreme, minimalist lifestyle. Fortunately, the original Roy wasn't a delicate young man, and thanks to that, the new Roy adapted to life quickly. If I was living like in my old life, I'd probably have to be a noble or a mage.

Roy was happy with the place, though. There was a big plot of land beside the pond the watermill was built on. He could use that place to train his crossbow shooting. Hank even threw in free dinner, so Roy paid him 30 crowns to stay for the month.

When night fell, Roy came to the dining table. There, he saw Hank and his family. Aside from the gaunt owner of the water mill, there was a fat, pudgy woman wearing a gaudy, long dress and disgustingly crimson lipstick who was sitting beside Hank.

"Let me introduce you to my wife, Roy. This is Mana. She helps out at the mill."

The fat woman was all smiles. "Ah, I was wondering why the birds were chirping so happily this morning. So, we have a guest. You have good taste, my friend. I guarantee there's no other place that's as cheap and clean as ours around here. Have a nice stay. You'll love it."

The fat woman covered her mouth and giggled hoarsely, her meaty body trembling along. Roy glanced at Hank.

With a wife like her, it's little wonder he's so gaunt.

"You don't look like a local, and your accent sounds unfamiliar. Where do you come from? Are you here for urgent business?" Mana took a pig trotter that was grilled golden brown and licked the fat off her fingers greedily.

"I come from a village in Lower Posada. A relative of mine took me here to work — said I could gain some experience. But he disappeared the moment we arrived in the city." Roy sighed on purpose and took a pig trotter to chomp on.

"Oh, what a horrendous relative." The fat woman wiped her oily mouth with a napkin, sympathy flashing in her eyes. "Don't worry, my friend. Aldersberg is a big city. If you're willing to work for it, jobs are everywhere to be found. You'll find one quickly."

Roy looked at the couple. "Do you have any jobs you can recommend?"

Hank shook his head as he pondered, the light making shadows dance across his face. "The butcher across? No. He won't teach an outsider that trade. It's too lucrative. The executioner's assistant? No. Too much death. It's bad luck for the mill."

"Take my advice, young man. Since this is your first job in a big city, why don't you lower your standards?" the fat women chimed in. "Hank left his home to work here when he was your age. He had to work for ten years to make some money and rent this mill. He'd done every job under the sun before that — hogwash disposal, and even just being a stand-in for a booth owner. I think you should try those jobs out. The market in the city center needs workers, but do look out for certain people though."

Hank continued. "Mana's right. If any revolutionist gives you pamphlets, remember to stay away from them and don't buy into their propaganda. Of all the things they can do, they decide to revolt. One of these days, their heads will be under the guillotine."

"I thought they were doing it to lower the taxes on peasants." Roy quietly finished all the pig trotters and licked his lips. Hank's dinner was great. The trotters were soft and delectable. These would be on par with Letho's grilled meat if they add some honey onto it. Only issue is the amount. Probably only the first day's dinner can be this good.

"Oh, you don't know. Of course. Baron Tavik has relented once, and honestly, they should have quit while they were ahead. But then their leader vanished into thin air, and they insisted on blaming the baron for it, forcing him to answer to them. This is just ridiculous."

Roy knew the leader's corpse was rotting in a certain dwarf's wine barrel. The baron was wrongly accused in that case.

Hank continued. "You'll have to look out for the Sparrow Triad too, my friend. Rebels aren't the only danger in Aldersberg. Those bastards are evil. They do anything from scams to robberies. Don't go to the lower part of the city. That's Triad's turf. They target outsiders, especially young, frail, handsome boys like you." Hank smiled eerily. "Some nobles love young boys."

"Thank you for the reminder." Roy nodded and filled his bowl with potato soup. "Oh, right, Mr. Hank. I remember seeing a girl earlier. She's your daughter, isn't she? Why isn't she here with us?"

The air froze after Roy mentioned the girl. The fat woman who was chomping down on her food choked on it. She thumped her chest, face red from suffocation, and Hank put his fork down. "She'll only ruin our appetite, my friend. Just enjoy your dinner. She has her own place."

"Hmph!" After the fat woman had calmed down, her jovial expression was replaced by a contorted one. "Don't mention that wretch ever again. It's our business how we treat her. You stay out of it." The fat woman didn't bother to hide the disdain she held, though whether for Roy or the girl, that remained a mystery. "We're kind enough to feed and shelter her. She can forget about dining with us."

"What's her name then?"

"That wretch? Call her Toya."

Roy went around the place after dinner, and saw a lonely girl sitting at the storehouse's doorstep, eating from her plate. He finally saw her face thanks to the sconce on the wall. The girl had a round face and petite features that matched her face's size. Her eyebrows were thin, her lips tiny. Her cheeks glowed red under the light, and if only by her looks, Roy would say she was around his age. Quite the young lady.

The girl's perception was sharp. She realized Roy was there after just a moment, and she scurried away like a scared sheep.

Am I really that scary? I'm not a demon, Roy thought. He went over to see what the girl was having. Compared to the sumptuous dinner Hank and Mana had, Toya only had a shabby plate of dull mashed potato. Roy wondered why Hank and his wife would torture their own daughter. Just because she's misshapen and unlikable? But Roy couldn't interfere, for he hadn't been there long. He had to familiarize himself with the place before he could do anything.

The moon's silvery glow bathed the land. On the plot of land beside the pond stood a firm, gaunt boy with black hair and black eyes. He was kneeling on one knee, holding a crossbow with both his hands as he aimed at a gnarly tree fifty feet away. His body was centered, his shoulders leveled. His left knee was on the ground, his left foot leaning against the earth. His right knee was pointing outward as his right foot grounded him, forming a firm triangle with his left leg, supporting the boy.

The boy placed his hip gently on his left heel, while his right elbow was placed on the right knee, supporting the hand crossbow that was held in his right hand. Roy took a deep breath as he aimed at the tree, and he let it out slowly. The moment it ended, he pulled the trigger with his left index finger.

The arrow soared through the air, lodging itself into its target. Then Roy performed a series of actions with his hands and feet in succession, reloading his hand crossbow in four seconds. The boy dashed to the side and grounded himself again before changing into a standing position to shoot.

He kept dashing, stopping, changing positions, shooting, and retrieving the arrows more than five hundred times. Three hours had passed after five hundred shots, and his muscles were screaming in protest. Roy ended the boring shooting exercise, but he was panting.

The night breeze cut through him with its chill, but it couldn't douse the flame within him.

'You unlocked a new skill:

'Unnamed level 1: You have begun to master the usage of ranged weapons (crossbows and hand crossbows) after receiving a witcher's lessons and shooting thousands of times. Whenever you're using ranged weapons, your accuracy, effective range, power, and piercing power will be increased by 5%.

'This can also be used as an active skill, doubling the increment of the effective range, but at the same time, your stamina consumption is also doubled, and your movement speed is halved. The effect lasts for at least thirty seconds.'

Roy heaved a long sigh, a smile carving itself on his sweat-drenched face. Finally, my training paid off. I finally got a weapon skill. Then Roy changed the name to 'Crossbow Mastery.'

Even though the increment for piercing power and damage was only 5%, it would become a 10% increase when Massacre's buff was included. Because he'd killed three peasant rebels, humans were included in Massacre's list of effective targets, making the skill one that could be used in many battles. If Roy activated Crossbow Mastery, he would be a powerhouse for a while on the battlefield.

Roy was planning on getting a crossbow, for Gabriel the mini crossbow couldn't keep up with him anymore.

Chapter 30

It was nearly five in the morning, but dawn hadn't broken past the horizon yet. When most people were still in their dreams, Aldersberg's market got lively. All of the most hardworking people in the city were toiling in the market.

Manual laborers went through the streets delivering heavy packages, while vegetable and fruit sellers dragged their carts of merchandise along the way, hollering at the people in the market, trying to get someone to buy what they sold. Some booth owners were shivering from the cold morning wind, but they quickly stacked their merchandise on the racks. Young, bearded men were adding spices to their kebabs, the smoke from the charcoal wafting across the air, bringing the scent of food everywhere. Livestock merchants were pointing at their merchandise in the coop, haggling with their customers, who were getting red from the cold.

Roy squeezed through a few crates of muddied, freshly plucked parsley and watercress before arriving at an herb booth.

The booth owner was a man in his forties. He was wearing one thick felt hat and a grey overcoat. His hands were hidden in his sleeves, but Roy knew the owner was rubbing them together. Wrinkles were strewn all over his face. He looked like an honest man, but his eyes had the cunning gleam of a businessman.

"What would you like, my friend?" The owner looked at Roy's young, handsome face and rubbed his fingers together suggestively. "Something to treat hemorrhoids?"

PR/N: LMFAO this old man… is too much.

Hemorrhoids? Why is he talking about that? Roy was stupefied. He can't be thinking that I was… Roy looked disgusted. "I'm not here for herbs. My name's Roy, and I just came to Aldersberg, so I'm here for a job. I heard the marketplace needs workers, so I came."

"I see. Roy, huh?" The businessman nodded. He crossed his arms and gave Roy an observing look. "You don't look strong enough, so manual labor's off the list. Do you know how to count? How to read? Tell me about your strengths."

"I can count, but I can't read." Roy looked at the merchandise on the rack and smiled after seeing all the herbs. "And I know herbs very well. For example, the oldest herb you got here is right in the center. It's a five-year-old mandrake root. A great herb to treat rheumatism, pustules, and asthma."

The merchant was surprised to hear that. He didn't expect the young boy to have such a good eye for herbs. "What about this one, then?" The merchant pointed to the herb at the mandrake root's left. It was a yellow, cone-shaped root.

"That's wolfsbane." Roy blinked. "Three years old, around and about. Treats… Well, it can treat erectile dysfunction."

The merchant asked him about all the herbs on the rack, and Roy had everything correct. "Wow, you know this is a beggartick? Looks like you have experience." The booth owner extended his hand. "Roy, is it? Call me Tross. I've been running this booth for decades, and everyone knows me. My reputation's good, and so is the shop's. Why don't you work for me? You obviously don't sound like you come from Aldersberg. Everyone else here isn't that easy to get along with."

Roy felt relieved. "Can you go into the details? The job scope and pay, for instance," he said calmly.

"I'm already forty-three, my friend. I have to wake up at around five every morning just to run this booth. Every day, I restock and set up business despite the cold morning winds, but it's torturous. I might die from overworking before fifty, so I'm looking for someone to help me for the time being. It's best if they're familiar with herbs and know how to count. Bonus if they have a good memory." Tross continued. "You'll only have to stay here from four to eight in the morning, then I'll take over. If nothing goes wrong, I'll pay you five crowns a week." ｂ𝚎ｄｎ𝚘ｖ𝚎ｌ.𝚌𝚘ｍ

Waking up at four was easy for Roy. He only needed five hours of rest after replacing sleep with meditation, but the pay was a problem. Five crowns a week only amounted to twenty a month. It wasn't even enough to pay rent in the city outskirts.

"You're trying to trick me, aren't you, Mr. Tross? Just because I'm a young outsider?" Roy pursed his lips. "Ten crowns a week, and I can start working right away."

"You can't ask for that kind of pay, my friend. When I was your age, I couldn't even make that much in a month." Tross squinted, and he made another offer. "What about this? Seven crowns a week, and a meal to boot. You can take it from the grilled meat booth right beside us. I guarantee you won't find a better pay anywhere."

Roy stared into his eyes, and when Tross was about to lose his patience, he nodded. "Then let's start today, Mr. Tross. Tell me what I should do. What's the market price for the herbs?"

Roy spent the whole morning at the herb booth asking for the prices of each. They were constantly changing, so Tross recorded the latest prices on a piece of leather beside the rack for Roy's reference. He taught Roy the basics of weighing and things to look out for. Finally, he told Roy to come at four the next day before letting him go.

Roy went around the marketplace again. Since his job at the herb booth would end at eight, he had a lot of time to spare, so he was going to find another job. The best one would be the butcher's apprentice. He'd make crowns and gain EXP, but just as Hank told him, Roy was in Aldersberg, not Kaer. The city's butcher wasn't his relative, so there was no way he'd let an outsider have a cut.

Obviously, he couldn't be a butcher, but there was another similar job that caught his attention — poultry selling. It was mostly helping the citizens kill their poultry. They only gave him one EXP per kill, but at least there were a lot of them.

The poultry seller's booth was right beside the coop. The owner was Ruhr, an elderly local with grey hair. After Roy made his introduction and showed his skills in cutting up poultry by easily killing a whining goose, defeathering it, and cleaning its insides, Ruhr agreed to hire him.

However, the pay was absurdly low. Roy would only get a crown for every thirty kills he made, but he could take on as much work as he wanted, and he could leave if he was exhausted. Roy didn't negotiate with him. He was doing it mainly for the EXP. If Ruhr was right, Roy would be dealing with fifteen chickens, turkeys, or geese every morning. In EXP terms, that meant he would have fifteen EXP in a morning. It was much better than what Roy got in Kaer.

That was one of the perks of big cities. They had more opportunities and more ways to gain EXP without risking his life.

Roy heaved a sigh and put down his bloody knife before dusting the feathers off of him. He'd killed twenty geese that afternoon, gaining twenty EXP and bettering his Massacre. More importantly, he could stand on his own two feet then. Even without Letho's help, he could live in the city by himself. After settling down at work, Roy would get a teacher to teach him common speech.

On the outskirts of the city, a sheet of gold rained down — courtesy of the setting sun — and Roy came back to the watermill. The smell of dirt, grass, and falling leaves wafted over him, relieving him of the stench of feces. Roy smiled, feeling light. However, he stopped in his tracks when he was a hundred feet away from the mill, looking somewhere afar.

A group of children surrounded the haystack and firewood that were outside the rickety, wooden storehouse. They had unkind looks on their faces — one that was beyond their age — and they mocked a girl who was on the ground.

"You're a camel wretch, you. Why'd you come out instead of staying in that warehouse? You ruined my appetite, do you know that?"

A lanky, freckled boy poked at the child's head as he cursed her.

"She's not a camel wretch! Camels are adorable." A cute girl with pigtails was holding a forked branch with her pudgy hands, and she jabbed it at the fallen child's protruding back. The child trembled from the jab, and she hugged her knees, her face nearly kissing the ground. "She's a monster. See this? There's poisonous water inside. She'll poison the food of anyone she hates. I bet that's how my grandma died, and I bet that's how her mother died! She's a witch. A wretch. That's what the books say. She curses someone every day, casting her wicked spells. We should get a witcher to deal with her. Only a mutant can deal with a wretch."

The child who was bullied suddenly started to sob.

"Did you just cry, you ugly wretch?" The freckled boy smacked the back of her head. "We're doing this for justice! Just like the revolutionists! You're the wretch who sides with the baron! Get her!" And then the children pulled her hair, kicked her back, jabbed it with branches, and some even flung pebbles and mud at her.

"What are you doing, you little bastards? Stop right away!" A faraway shout shocked the children who were bullying Toya. They glanced back and scrambled away without seeing who it was. A moment later, only the girl who was hugging her legs was left.

Her clean white apron was soiled with footprints and mud, the neck under her brown hair littered with bruises. "You're Toya, aren't you? Hank's daughter? How do you feel? Did the little bastards hurt you?" Roy hunkered down beside her and extended a hand.

The hunchback girl glanced at him, her gaze terrified and alert. There were a couple of slap marks on her face, looking like a ruined oil painting. She pushed herself up with her calloused hands that were filled with frostbite. Quietly, she limped into the warehouse, her back hunched like a hill, and she closed the door.

Roy couldn't imagine how bad her life must've been for her to have that look on her face, but he thought he should do something for her. Roy took out the marigold from his inventory space and wrapped it with a piece of cloth before putting it at the doorstep. "I left some herbs for you, Toya. Just chew it and rub it on your wound. It'll work well, trust me."

When it was dinnertime, Roy complained to Hank about what he'd seen. "I saw some brats ganging up on Toya, pulling her hair and beating her with sticks. Her face is swollen. Don't you care about it?"

"Oh, don't mind it, my friend. That girl can take a lot of hits. Those kids can't hurt her, and teaching her a lesson makes her work harder," Mana answered matter-of-factly, chomping down on the oily meat.

Roy gasped. This woman's the stepmother. No doubt about it.

"I know you're kind, Roy," Hank chimed in. "But we're just a normal family. We can't shelter Toya like a princess. Can't do anything about it, you know? With her looks, she's going to be treated like a freak no matter where she goes. Enduring that tiny bit of suffering is the only way she can live. It's been more than ten years now she's been this way. That girl's grown strong.

Tiny bit of suffering? Damn, these people don't see her as human. No wonder they won't even let her dine with them. What is Toya to them? Probably just free labor they can exploit and vent on.

"Let's not talk about her, my friend. You've been in the marketplace for a whole day. Did you find a job?" Mana asked curiously. She was more interested in that matter than Toya's suffering.

"I did."

The couple was delighted. Now that he has a job, he has money to keep on renting the room.

Roy went to take a look at the storehouse after dinner. He heaved a sigh when the marigold was nowhere to be found, and when he came back to his room, Roy saw a fresh, clean apple on the barrel of water at the doorstep. Under it was the blue cloth he'd used to wrap the marigold.

"Is this a return gift?" I think I might be able to communicate with her.

Chapter 31

"What will you have today? Brisket with a dash of basil powder?" A red-haired, big-nosed youth laced the meat skewers quickly with spices. The aroma of cooked meat wafted across the marketplace, and the young man who was right beside took a whiff of it.

"Sure, Emil. Let's go with that. Give me more of the heat. It's getting colder these days. The weather's not letting up." Roy's face was red from the cold. He brushed the feathers off of his body and looked up at the overcast sky.

Three days had passed since Roy had come to search for a job. It was almost the eleventh of November, and Saovine was drawing near. Roy had gotten used to the jobs in the marketplace over the last three days. The poultry booth provided him thirty EXP per day, and the herb booth was doing well too. Roy made friends out of Tross — his boss — Emil the grilled meat seller, and Ruhr the poultry booth owner. His days were spent between his jobs and night training. If nobody knew better, he was just an ordinary young man who'd come to the big city to better his life. The traces of the witcher life were almost gone from his.

"Here's your brisket." Emil handed him a smoking, piping hot meat skewer the length of a forearm. "Since you're a regular, I threw in some more meat for you."

Roy went to a quiet corner and kept the skewer in his inventory space. He didn't buy the meat for himself, but for someone else. He was going to leave when dusk came, but Tross stopped him. "Roy. A washerwoman called Trish ordered a bag of honeysuckle. Can you make a stop at her place?" Tross asked. "She's staying at number eighty-nine in the lower part of the city. I have to watch over the booth, so I can't go."

Tross had asked him to run errands over the last few days, but that was the first time he'd asked Roy to deliver something to the lower part of the city. That reminded Roy of the Sparrow Triad and Hank's warning. It has been a few days though. I can't be that unlucky, can I? "Sure."

Roy exited the marketplace and went east, where the slums were. The sky was gloomy, dark clouds congregating in the horizon, covering the blazing, setting sun. Once Roy stepped past the narrow, acrid ditch, he was met with short huts that extended as far as the eye could see. It was the slums, where everything foul was dumped.

It didn't take long for Roy to cover his nose after he'd entered the place. Most of the huts were rickety and almost in shambles, and the ground was flooded with putrid water flowing from the sewers. The narrow alleys between the rows of huts were filled with garbage.

The people who went past Roy looked pasty and tense. They were in nothing but rags, and when the autumn breeze blew against them, their expressions turned blank. Roy saw men who were just a few years older than he was, but their backs were already starting to deform from the strenuous labor they had to undergo. The air was filled with nothing but the stench of fish and the fetor of excrements. 𝒷𝓮𝒹𝓃ℴ𝓿𝓮𝓁.𝓬𝓸𝓂

Compared to the clean, proper, affluent area, the slums were pure hell. Calling them dirty was an understatement, and even Kaer was much better. But the slums were what the world was in that era.

Roy held down his desire to leave. He went to the washerwoman's house and handed the honeysuckle to the gaunt woman who was washing blankets outside her house. He was going to go back once he was done, but alarms started ringing in his head, and it felt as if something was pointing at him. Roy turned the corner and threw a furtive glance in the direction he came from.

Just as he suspected, two thuggish men in gaudy clothes were tailing him from a distance. "What are they doing? Why are they following me?" Then he recalled Hank's warning. "Just my luck. And this is my first time here too." Roy took a deep breath and kept walking. The men went on with their trailing, unaware of the danger the boy posed.

In the slums of Aldersberg, a boy walked straight ahead on foul streets, his head hanging low. Two men trailed him from a distance, their expressions dark. Some residents who were taking their clothes off the balcony noticed the scene, but all they did was lean forward and watch the show. Some hurried past the boy and spared him a glance before quickening their pace, unwilling to get into trouble. No one wanted to help.

Roy quietly focused on his hidden hand crossbow and estimated the remaining space in his inventory before running ahead all of a sudden.

"Come here, boy!" His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden call. Roy looked up and saw a young, beautiful maiden waving at him not far ahead.

Is she calling me? He looked back at the thugs and hesitated. "Very well then. There's too many people here. It'd be hard to get away if I killed them."

The moment he approached the woman, an aroma assailed him, and he almost blacked out. She quickly grabbed his left arm. "Don't worry, boy. As long as I'm here, those bastards won't do anything to you."

The woman winked at him, and the men who'd been following him stopped in their tracks. One of them had a tattooed neck and he spat at them. "You got lucky today, brat." The men left in a hurry, but not without cursing.

"Um, thanks for helping." Roy looked stiff, for he couldn't get used to the soft feeling on his arm.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?" The woman let his arm go and patted his head. She stood at five feet eight* and looked around twenty-four or twenty-five. Her green top and pleated skirt that covered her thighs showed off her perfect body. Her wine red hair was tied in a ponytail, and a silver trinket hung from her slender neck. Her legs were as fair as snow, and a belt wrapped itself tightly around her torso. The lady's most attractive feature was her glittering eyes and full lips. It made her look seductive.

*PR/N: Five feet eight is around 1.73 meters.

It was as if her smile drove off the dark clouds.

"I'm Vivien. What are you doing here alone, boy?" Vivien asked curiously, her voice gentle. "Didn't anyone tell you it was dangerous? The Sparrow Triad will do anything for money."

Roy fell into a trance at the sight of her gleaming eyes, but since his body hadn't fully developed yet, he quickly recovered. Roy gave her a smile of gratitude. "You can call me Roy, Vivien. I was out for a delivery, but I didn't expect my luck to be this bad. This is my first time coming here."

"Oh, and I thought those bastards were waiting for you," Vivien mumbled. "Where are you going now?"

"The herb booth back in the marketplace."

"I'm going there to get some stuff too. Let's go together."

Roy agreed to it after he stopped feeling the presence of those thugs. As they walked side by side, Roy eventually noticed that her hands weren't as smooth as her face. They had frostbite and were covered in dead skin and calluses. "Vivien, does that happen a lot here? Isn't there supposed to be someone telling them off?"

"No, everyone's been preoccupied with the problems in the city center and the affluent area. The lower city is now a lawless place, so you have to be careful. Never come here alone."

Roy asked anxiously, "Would those bastards come for you? You helped me."

The lady stopped in her tracks, a look of gratification gleaming within her eyes. She looked at Roy as if he'd said something that had made her proud. "Don't worry. They won't do anything to me."

Roy was surprised to hear that, and affection toward her welled up within him. They chatted as they went to the marketplace. Roy arrived at the booth a short while later, and Vivien waved at him, telling him to go before she left.

Tross looked surprised for a split second when he saw the woman who'd come with Roy. "Done?"

"Yes." Roy paused. "Tross, do you know who Vivien is? The woman who came with me?"

Tross looked up, his beady eyes turning into slits, and he immersed himself in his fantasy. "Vivien is a good lady." He made an outline of a calabash in the air and licked his lips. "She has better curves than most women in the city, no?"

"And she's kind too. Thanks to her, I managed to shake off the thugs who were trailing me in the lower city."

Tross realized something, and he said apologetically, "I should have told you the lower city was in chaos, especially as of recent."

"Forget it. Nothing happened anyway. She doesn't seem to be afraid of those thugs. Do you know why?" Roy asked.

Admiration showed on Tross' face. "There's a three-story house in the northeastern part of the city center that's neighboring the lower city. It's the House of Cardell. It provides education for the civilian kids of Aldersberg at an affordable price, and they provide free lunch for the children. Vivien's the teacher, and she's beloved by the people. No matter how many bastards the Sparrow Triad has, the people of the city outnumber them. Why do you think they gave her a wide berth?" He sighed. "But ill fate always shrouds the kind. Her mother's mind is addled, and she has to support her father who's a drunkard. Her life's hard, since she has to take care of her family and the poor kids. Why does a kind, beautiful maiden like that have to live in the filthy slums?"

Tross looked like he wanted to help Vivien out, much to Roy's amusement. He knew Tross had a happy family. His wife and kids were healthy and alive.

"Can I ask for education in the House of Cardell, Tross?" Roy was interested in the House of Cardell. He had plans to learn common speech. Since he'd settled down at his job, he could take some time off in the afternoon to learn.

"I think so, since you're young." Tross rubbed his chin. "But the fees are going to be higher since you're not a local. But of course, it's still cheaper than asking for a scribe or someone else to teach you."

Roy was delighted to hear that. He'd managed to find a place to stay and some good jobs, and then an opportunity to learn common speech was right in front of him. There shouldn't have been any problems if he went with this plan, and he could surprise Letho when he returned.

Chapter 32

When Roy came back to the watermill that evening, he placed the warm meat skewer at the storehouse's doorstep and knocked on the door before going back into the living room. Roy mentioned Vivien to Hank and Mana, and the couple held Vivien in the same regard as Tross did. He then tried to ask why their daughter hadn't been sent to the House of Cardell to receive an education.

Toya was a young girl, and being differently abled placed her in the minority. The House of Cardell might've taken her in, so Roy didn't understand why she hadn't been sent there. The couple told him they couldn't afford the fees, and they didn't think Toya was much of a learner.

Ah, so they're really that kind of scum. Roy spoke no further on the matter and hastily finished his dinner. When he went back to his room, he saw a rare guest waiting for him.

The oil lamp on the wall illuminated her petite figure. She was standing at the doorstep, her hunched back facing him, her shoulders lopsided. She was carefully wiping a handful of blueberries before placing them on the barrel outside. The girl heaved a sigh of relief once she was done, and she turned to go back to the storehouse. But then she saw Roy.

Toya was stupefied, her happy smile frozen. She stared down nervously, and she trembled — but she didn't run.

"Don't worry, Toya. I mean you no harm." Roy attempted to put on his best smile, and he stayed ten feet away instead of going up to her. "I just want to say thank you for the fruits. They're delicious."

"You…" Toya kept silent for a few moments, then she took a deep breath, resolving herself. "Y-You aren't scared of me?" she stuttered. Toya's voice was silvery and childlike, but also nervous.

"Why do you ask?" Roy stared into her eyes. "I don't think you're any different from any other girl."

Toya forgot to breathe for a moment, and her heart skipped a beat. Nobody had ever told her that. Not even her father. She'd longed for someone to say she was just an ordinary girl instead of a freak, and tears welled up when her wish was finally fulfilled.

Roy continued. "Those uneducated rascals do nothing but spread mischief and misery, whereas you're already taking care of the livestock, poultry, garden, and fields. You're self-sufficient. Toya, you're a remarkable girl." Roy smiled almost too enthusiastically. "I think a proper introduction is in order. I'm Roy, and I'm about the same age as you. My dad's a peasant in Lower Posada, and it's only been a short while since I came to Aldersberg. Toya, since you returned my gifts with your own over the last few days, then that makes us friends."

"Friends?" Toya thought friends were things she could never get. She used to have friends when she was younger, but once her back started getting hunched, her friends avoided her like the plague. She couldn't even remember their faces. All she could remember was how everyone looked when they were cursing her.

She wouldn't even dream about having friends. Toya started spacing out, looking as if she was at a loss. But then she started easing up and letting her guard down.

"Why don't we find someplace else to chat? Don't worry. It's just a normal conversation — something along the lines of what you had for lunch."

Roy looked around them. The moon had shone on the vacant land he practiced on every night. Ripples spread across the pond as the night breeze blew across it, the moon's silvery light shrouding it.

Roy heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the girl sitting on his left. He'd thought she would have run away. He'd never come into contact with a sensitive girl like her, and he was worried he might strike a nerve. This is a step in the right direction.

Toya obviously wasn't used to the situation. She was staring down, her fingers interlocked. She didn't look at the boy beside her, nor did she look at her reflection in the pond, worried she might see a monster staring back at her.

"Relax, Toya. Hey, have you ever seen a magic trick before?"

"No. And what's a magic trick?" she asked carefully.

"It's a trick. You know how tricks work, don't you? I can show you one. Look closely." Toya was surprised that Roy was being so imperious, and she looked at him reflexively. "Don't blink now." Roy extended his right hand, showed her his palm, then the back of his hand. Then he rolled his wrist once, twice, and thrice…

Toya counted silently, and then her jaw dropped slightly, her eyes widening in shock as a beautiful card appeared out of thin air into Roy's palm. The card featured a redhead in a red dress. She radiated the beauty of a blazing flame, an air of mystery surrounding her.

Roy rotated his wrist again, and a few turns later, the card disappeared into thin air.

"H-how did you do it, Roy?" Toya's attention had been grabbed. It was a basic trick, but she'd never left Aldersberg since the day she was born, much less seen a trick. "Where did you hide the card?"

"A magician never reveals his secret. Take a guess," Roy said. Toya held her chin, letting her hair tumble down as she immersed herself in her thoughts, forgetting her unease and fear.

And then Roy came to sit one foot away from her, interrupting her thoughts. Toya froze, cold sweat pouring down a face that had all its color drained. Her heart thumped in her chest, but not from diffidence. Rather, it was from fear and anxiety. Her long years of being abused made her fearful of those who approached her. She'd think they were there to torture, curse, or abuse her.

"Sorry for scaring you." Roy gave her an apologetic look, and he showed her his palms before moving backward until Toya regained a bit of composure. "I was just trying to take the card." He pointed at her white apron. "Believe it or not, Toya, that card is lying in your pocket right now."

Toya searched her pocket with hesitancy, then she pulled out a card — the same one Roy had shown her. It was a shame she was illiterate. She didn't know the name of the lady on the card, but she fell into a trance looking at the lifelike, beautiful, sexy woman, a hint of envy gleaming in her eyes.

"Interesting, don't you think?" Roy asked. "You may take the card."

"Why?" Toya was perplexed. She was already surprised Roy would give her herbs and food. "I can't take this. It must have cost a lot."

"It's just an ordinary Gwent card," Roy answered honestly. "Most innkeepers sell them. You can give me some fruits tomorrow if you think this is too expensive a gift."

Toya held the card, looking reluctant. A long while later, she said, "Fine then." She kept the card in her pocket carefully. "Who's the lady?"

"Sabrina Glevissig. A sorceress in Ard Carraigh, Kaedwen's capital city."

"A sorceress?"

"You'll understand that in time, trust me. Let's talk about something else." Roy sat beside her, and this time, Toya didn't start seizing. She swung her legs like Roy was doing, perhaps to ease herself.

Two young passengers boarded the moon in the lake.

"What do you do around the mill?" Roy asked.

"I have to feed the pigs, clean the place, and de-weed the fields. And that's on top of what you'd mentioned before*."

PR/N: About her already taking care of the livestock, poultry, garden, and fields.

Roy sighed. "So young, to be bearing so many burdens." Most girls her age would either be married or helping out their families, but none were having it as hard as her. "Do you have any hobbies? Painting, singing, dancing, or Gwent?"

"I don't know how Gwent is played, so singing, probably? But I don't really do it. Mana always scolds me. Says my singing is as bad as the roosters who crow every morning. Everyone laughs at me too."

"Don't listen to them. Your voice is perfect for singing," Roy said, praising from the bottom of his heart. "You could have sung in theaters if you went to any other city. It's quite late now, but if we have time, may I have the honor of hearing you sing?"

They talked about their lives. Roy was mostly doing the talking and asking, while Toya listened quietly, interjecting at times. Her answers were short and slow, but Roy managed to glean some useful information. ｂｅ𝚍𝚗𝚘ｖｅ𝚕．ｃ𝚘𝚖

She hadn't been born a hunchback. The symptoms had started eight years ago, and they'd worsened. Her mother had died five years ago because she'd worried too much about Toya, and then her stepmother — the fat, harsh Mana — had come. Since then, Toya's life was nothing but endless labor, and her own father started becoming distant.

Roy could feel the fear and helplessness in her answers, while Toya noticed that Roy's eyes were devoid of her father's disappointment and disdain, as well as her stepmother's hatred. They didn't contain any of the discrimination the children and residents had against her either. Instead, they were filled with patience and understanding. She felt something she hadn't in a long time — respect.

That was the first time Toya had the desire to tell someone everything since her mother's demise, but that night was not the night for it. The moon climbed higher, and it'd been an hour since they'd started talking.

"Do you really… Do you really want to be my friend, Roy?" She dusted her dress off and stood, the shining moon illuminating her hunched back and lopsided shoulders clearly.

"You got one thing wrong." Roy smiled. "We are already friends."

"Can I talk to you tomorrow too?"

"Of course. As long as I come back here, you're welcome to talk."

Toya heaved a sigh of relief and limped back to the ramshackle storehouse. Roy saw her off.

'Toya

Gender: Female

Age: Thirteen years and ten months

Status: Civilian

HP: 30 ↓ (Mana corruption)*

Mana: 120 ↑ (Mana corruption)

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 4

Constitution: 3 ↓ (Mana corruption)

Perception: 6

Will: 6

Charisma: 4

Spirit: 12 ↑ (Mana corruption)

Skill:

Source (Passive): Has awakened the power to sense chaos energy. Now a magic-sensitive human. Loved by the elements of earth, fire, water, and air. Absorbs mana automatically at all times. Can control mana and release spells after receiving professional and systematic training, performing feats most people couldn't.'

PR/N: Her stats are affected by the mana corruption, hence the arrows. The mana corruption increases her mana and spirit, but decreases her HP and constitution.

Roy was reminded of what Letho had told him during the meditation lesson. If a magic-sensitive human were to awaken — but not be sent to a school for sorcerers to undergo training and tame the elemental energy within them — they would go insane from the rampaging mana. Worse, they might be transformed into a misshapen monster because of the uncontrollable mana.

Obviously, Toya, the daughter of Hank, was one of the unlucky ones. She was given the gift of magic, but didn't know how to rein it in. Her misshapen body was, without a doubt, the effect of the uncontrollable mana within her. She would die much earlier than most if left untreated.

Roy had helped her out of sympathy in the beginning, but now, he started coming up with a plan after he'd found out what Toya was. He might not have had the disposition of a sorcerer, but that didn't mean he couldn't befriend a future sorceress. It was an investment of sorts for him. Can't be a witcher without a few spellweaving friends.

Chapter 33

The three-story house located in northeastern Aldersberg had a green roof and white windows, the fence surrounding the house forming a wide yard, and it had a sign hanging lopsidedly on the front door. On the left side of the yard was a field where seasonal vegetables were planted, and yellow vines crept along the wall on the side of the house. Behind them were colored, gnarly doodles made by children.

A hornbeam over forty feet tall stood in the center, its dense branches covering half the yard and the house. A long table that could seat twenty people was under the tree, but it looked shabby, obviously beaten up by the elements. Roy observed the area under the hornbeam for a while. Something stirred in him when he caressed the bark of the tree. This tree's at least a hundred years old, and these weird signs… Must be the naughty kids who did this.

Roy gently opened the wooden door on the first floor, and he heard a soft woman's voice coming from within. What greeted him were children sitting in silence and a gaunt, middle-aged woman writing on a blackboard with chalk.

"Our nation, Aedirn, is located in the east of Mahakam, neighboring Temeria. Lyria and Rivia are situated in the south of Aedirn, while Kaedwen is in the north, and Blue Mountains in the east. Aedirn's king is, as of current, Demavend III, the son of Virfuril. The nation's crest is a reddish-golden arrowhead with a black background. Vengerberg is its capital." The woman paused for a moment. "Since ages past, Aedirn has been the nation with the highest occurrence of peasant movements. The revolutionists have been fighting fiercely against the nobles and royalty to change the cruel tax system…"

Roy frowned after hearing that. Something feels off.

"Someone's eavesdropping, Miss Cardell!" A scrawny young blond boy sitting in the back raised his hand, interrupting the teacher, and sixty pairs of gleaming eyes shifted their gazes to the boy at the door. Half of the kids were boys, and the others were girls. The youngests were about five or six years old, while the oldests were fourteen or fifteen. Most of them were gaunt and in rags. Someone much older than the kids was sitting in the back, and she beamed when she saw the boy.

"What brings you here, Roy?" Vivien waved at him. She was obviously wearing much more conservative attire than when she bumped into Roy. Vivien was in a plain grey dress, her wine-red hair tied back in a ponytail, and she looked so much younger.

Roy hesitated for a moment, then he sat beside her. "Tross said you were a teacher in the House of Cardell. There was something I wanted to learn, so I came."

Vivien nodded in approval. "Good decision. Knowledge is the only way to change your fate. Welcome to the House of Cardell."

"I'm Tom. Hi, Roy." The boy who ratted on him extended his hand warmly, his features scrunching up as he gave Roy a toothy grin. It was a friendly yet amusing smile. Roy shook his hand.

"Keep silent, children. Read through your history lesson. I'll be going out for a talk." The middle-aged woman led Roy to the office on the second floor. "You may call me Miss Cardell, child. What is your name? I'm guessing that you're here to learn common speech?"

Roy nodded. "I'm Roy, and I'm not a local. Can I be admitted?" he asked nervously. Roy didn't want to have come all this way just to find out it was all for naught.

"We welcome anyone under sixteen, and you look the age. The fee will be twenty crowns a month, and you'll have to work with me so I can register your personal information, alright? Most of the people here are children." Cardell had a warm gaze, but her large, hook nose, laugh lines, and thin lips made her look terrifyingly stern. "I have another question. Do you have enough money?" Cardell was doubtful, since most students had their parents come with them.

"I work in the marketplace, so I have enough for the fees. Oh, yes, Miss Cardell, and that's also why I can only make it at noon." Twenty crowns was far cheaper than what Roy had in mind. He already had enough to pay even without his jobs.

"Do as you will. As long as you can keep up." Cardell kept his registration form in the cabinet under the desk once she was done with it.

Roy glanced at the thick stacks of forms neatly sorted in the cabinet. Once he paid the fee, he went back to the shabby classroom with Cardell, and his seat was between Vivien and Tom. The moment he went in, Roy noticed a few unfriendly glares coming his way. So not everyone welcomes me here.

A few burly boys seated at the upper right corner threw hostile looks at him when they noticed him coming in. The oldest boys had looks of jealousy and warning in their eyes, telling Roy to stay away from their beloved toys. Roy didn't care about them, since he saw no need to fight with a bunch of brats. Twenty crowns a month, and locals pay a lower fee. Are they running a charity business here? The money's barely enough for the food in this area. Roy made an estimate and noticed that there were sixty-five students in the class — excluding him and two teachers, who were Vivien and Cardell.

Food alone would eat up a lot of the crowns, making the education almost free, and they even provided accommodation for special kids.

"What are you thinking about, Roy?" Vivien looked at him, concerned. "Can't get used to the place?"

"I think it's fine," he whispered. "Is everyone from the lower city?"

"Yes. From ordinary families." She smiled. "Get along with them, and don't bully them just because you're older. Ask me if you need anything."

Roy nodded and started learning. The school was a shabby one. It had no tables or chairs. The students sat on the mat in rows. There were no quills or ink, only soot from coal that was used up. The papers were substandard, made out of grass. It was either that, or writing on the ground, erasing it, and writing it again. The conditions weren't great, but the lessons didn't come easy, so the students were extremely focused.

After teaching the new students for a short while, Cardell started teaching the basics of the common speech from the north. It was a new language that was born after the Conjunction of the Spheres. The alphabet and grammar were similar to the Slavic languages from his past life.

Roy felt bizarre — as if he'd gone back to his old world. For a moment, he thought he was a young high schooler sitting in his classroom as classes went on again. The original Roy had lived in this world for years, giving him a degree of understanding of the local language. To an extent, it increased his learning efficiency.

Roy's mature thinking and brain power as well as his insight were a big help too. His Spirit that exceeded a normal human's allowed him to stay focused for a longer time. More importantly, he was someone who went through a grueling education system in his old life. He wouldn't lose to anyone in the witcher world when it came to rote learning.

Thanks to those reasons, there was a chain reaction, and it made it easier for Roy to learn the new language.

When it was almost noon, the long tables under the hornbeam were filled with people from the House of Cardell. The autumn breeze blew across the steaming food, and the aroma wafted across the yard, making the quiet children gulp. None of them made a move though. They were looking at the middle-aged woman, waiting for her command.

Cardell stood up straight, as if she were a commander facing her soldiers before war. She nodded with approval at the children and said, "Prophet Lebioda lit up three flames for the people. One is justice, the other is equality, and the last is the flames of dreams. Every child here has a dream." She lectured about dreams and what they meant. "Our fathers and their fathers have always been farmers. Treasure the food they earned with their sweat and blood."

Cardell waved forward, and everyone around the table moved toward the food. Everyone had hard bread, vegetable soup, pickles, and fish jerky. It wasn't great, but beggars couldn't be choosers. The students stuffed their mouths full of food, as if it would be taken away if they were just a bit slower.

Roy was eating slowly at first, but he was surprised by how intensely the kids fought over the food. Influenced by their gusto, he inexplicably ate faster. It didn't even take the kids fifteen minutes to finish all the food. Not one mouthful of soup was left. Even the leaves that fell into the plates were gobbled up by one little rascal.

Roy was only half full though, and he could feel that most of the students felt the same. Tom puckered his lips. He was too scrawny to win against the other kids, even though he sat in the center. Roy had to say that was the best lunch he'd had since his rebirth. It was even better than the feast Seville treated him to. The best meal is the one fought over, huh?

Suddenly, Roy thought there was another layer of meaning to the speech Cardell had given them before lunch. It was one of fairness and equality, but she'd let the kids fight over food after that. Is she already teaching them the harsh reality of life when they're still so young?

The students had a short break after lunch, and they split into dozens of small groups, playing chase or chatting in the yard. Everyone was smiling, and once again, Roy thought he was back in PE class like in his old life. He couldn't believe a peaceful place like the House of Cardell existed in a magical world where revolution was in full swing. Roy was impressed.

Even so, disturbance stirred in the land of peace. As long as someone was popular in a group, there would be unpopular ones. One of them just happened to be Tom, the boy who'd said hi to him. He stood in the corner alone, fiddling with his fingers, staring at the other kids with longing.

"Aren't you going to play with them, Roy?" A fragrant scent assailed him, and Vivien crept up on him, her gaze filled with encouragement.

A chill ran up Roy's spine, and he shook his head. "We have nothing in common. What about Tom though? He looks like a sorry soul."

"Tom… Tom is an orphan. He's not like the other kids who have loving parents. The school's his home." She sighed. "And he's really frail, so the bigger kids keep ganging up on him, isolating him," she said solemnly. "Principal Cardell and I tried to tell them off, but it didn't work. We have too many things to take care of, so we can't keep our eyes on him. And we didn't show him enough care."

"So he's an abandoned child." Roy nodded. Bullying was a serious matter in modern society, let alone a shabby school like the House of Cardell.

A half-hour nap time followed the break, and then it was time for Vivien's lessons. They included simple maths, tips to make life easier, and the meaning of words in common speech. When a boring lesson was taught by a gentle, gorgeous lady, it sounded interesting. At least the boys with Roy didn't blink as they listened.

Once the clock struck five, parents gradually came to the House of Cardell to take their children home to the lower city. "Is it safe? Won't the human traffickers from the Sparrow Triad prey on the kids?" Roy went up to Vivien as he looked in the direction they left.

"They kidnapped a girl five years ago. From the school. Someone saw her body in the ditch the next day. Her parents, overwhelmed by despair, spent all their savings to buy coal oil and set one of their bases on fire at night. They went into the burning base and died together with the Triad members who were sleeping. I can still remember the moment their charred carcasses were taken out of the ruins." Vivien was still shocked even though it had been a few years since then. "From then on, the school and everyone in the lower city pressured the Triad. Even Baron Tavik was notified about the matter. The Sparrow Triad made some concessions and never did anything of the sort again."

Roy was reminded of what Seville had told him. "A good man's fury can demolish the entirety of the Mahakam mountains." Alright. That's another story I can tell Toya tonight.

"Come, Roy." Vivien held his arm, dragging him toward the classroom. "This is your first day, so there must be a lot you don't understand. I'll teach it again."

Roy was surprised she would do so. He had the feeling Vivien was overly nice to him since they'd first met, but he didn't think much about it. He was more than happy to master common speech sooner rather than later.

"Oh, why'd you come back, Roy?" Tom, who was staring at the other children, hopped to him and held his other hand. His golden hair swayed with the wind, and he grinned toothily, looking like a puppy who was happy about its master's return. "You don't have a home either? Why don't I play with you?"

Vivien pulled his ear, and he wailed in pain. "Roy's going to revise today's lesson, Tom. Since you're here too, you're revising with him."

Tom froze, and he tried to struggle free, but to no avail. Vivien dragged him into the classroom by his ear. "You kept complaining about being alone, didn't you? Then you're going to learn with Roy every day after school." 𝗯𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥.𝐜𝗼𝐦

The boy's wails were sent up into the heavens along with the autumn breeze. The branches of the hornbeam creaked along with the wind, its yellowing leaves falling into the silence of the dusk.

Chapter 34

The sky was overcast that day. Roy gripped the goose's white, slender neck tightly with one hand, while the other held a thin, razor-sharp blade. He placed it on the goose's artery and sliced. Blood spurted out, filling the wooden bucket beside him. He heaved a sigh and looked at his character sheet.

'Roy

Age: Thirteen years and ten months old

Status: Civilian

HP: 50

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 5.1

Constitution: 5

Perception: 7

Will: 4.8

Charisma: 5

Spirit: 6

Skill:

Massacre Level 3: Any attacking enemy within a one foot range will have a 10% chance of being Feared. If their Will is lower than yours, they will lose control of their bodies. The effect lasts eight to nine seconds, at most. There is a 10% increase in damage against ten types of creatures.

Crossbow Mastery Level 1: …

Meditation Level 1: …

Personal Level: 2 (700/1000)

Others: Unknown

Inventory Space: 1 cubic meter'

Roy had been working in the marketplace for half a month. Since he was only working in the morning, he would kill twenty chickens, ducks, or geese every day. The sheer number of kills finally made Massacre reach level three. Hard work pays off. Guess wading through that stench wasn't for nothing. He managed to make twenty-five crowns and three hundred EXP too.

The berbercane fruits and blowballs he'd been consuming lost all effect, since his weakest stats — Strength and Constitution — had reached five. It was on par with an average adult's, and it affected him physically. He was two inches* taller than he was in Kaer. Roy's height was five feet six*, and muscles were starting to show. The boy was getting sturdier compared to how gaunt he'd been.

PR/N: Two inches is around 5.08 centimeters, and five feet six is around 1.68 meters.

Roy wouldn't lose to any adult in Strength or Constitution. His features were getting slightly more sculpted, resembling a young adult's more than a boy's. Once the goose finished bleeding, he placed it in a bucket of steaming hot water before defeathering and disemboweling it. It was noon when he was done. Roy put the knife down, took off his apron, cleaned himself up, and woke Ruhr up from his nap before leaving for the House of Cardell.

When Roy saw Vivien in the yard, she was sweating, and he handed her a satchel of herbs.

Vivien took it from him, but she looked confused. "What is this, Roy?"

"Honeysuckle. It's a type of herb. Just put it in water and have it every day. Helps a lot with the ladies. You know I work for Tross, so getting this is easy."

"Why are you giving this to me out of the blue?"

"As thanks. You've been taking care of me and helping me out a lot. It'd be remiss of me not to repay my debt," Roy answered.

Vivien was silent after hearing that answer. "Listen, Roy. You didn't have to give me this. That's not why I helped you."

"I can see that, but what's your reason then?" he asked. "Vivien, I've been wondering. Why do you care for me so much? You're even helping me with revision, just like how a sister would."

Vivien took a deep breath and rubbed her wine-red hair. Melancholy filled her eyes as she answered quietly. "I-I have a brother, and you give me the same feeling he does, so I see him in you at times."

Roy was surprised to hear that. He'd never seen Vivien's brother in the school, nor did anyone talk about him. Is he… Is he dead? Vivien doesn't sound so sure about his condition either.

"How old is he now? Has he ever attended school here?" Roy asked.

Instead of answering him, Vivien looked at the clock outside the door and shifted the topic. "It's almost time. We should go to the classroom now."

"Alright then." Since Vivien was reluctant to divulge the details, Roy didn't pry any further, but his interest was piqued, and he wanted to find out about the story behind it. Strangely, Vivien didn't ask him to stay back that evening. Perhaps she was reminded of a sad memory because of their conversation.

The night was dark, but the storehouse beside the watermill was illuminated by candlelight. A boy and girl sat on the haystacks around it, engaged in a whisper.

"Did you memorize the words I taught you yesterday?"

"Yes." The girl scrunched her nose, feeling tense. Her eyes gleamed with trepidation, but also excitement.

"Good. Then, let's go with the usual. Write down the words 'bread,' 'fish,' 'potato,' and 'morning.'"

The girl stared down and dragged the haystack away. Then, she held a piece of shabby charcoal in her calloused hand. Using that as a pencil, she drew on the uneven ground, making out skewed words.

"Not bad," Roy said, praising as he checked her spelling. "You're a smart girl, Toya. Smarter than most people, especially those little bastards who're bullying you. Those idiots have no right to laugh at you. They're mere trash."

Toya blushed after being praised. "I… Well, you've been a good teacher. It's all thanks to you."

"Raise your head, Toya. Be more confident."

Toya puffed her chest out after hearing the encouragement. Her hunched back made her look bizarre, but for once, she smiled, even though it was stiff — it had been years since she'd done so.

Roy paused for a moment. "Are those little bastards still coming to harass you?"

"No."

"Remember what I told you. Wallop them with your broom the next time they come for you. Don't just take it. That'll make them bolder. If you can't win alone, then I'll help you once I come back. We'll teach them a lesson."

Roy sat closer to her as he gave his advice, and their shoulders touched. Toya was used to physical contact after nearly two weeks of getting along with him. She didn't react as severely as before.

"Let's put aside the conversational words for today and learn something new."

Roy pushed the haystack away and wrote the words 'Temeria,' 'Gors Velen,' 'Isle of Thanedd,' and 'Aretuza' on the ground.

"Roy, who drew a pentagram on your left sleeve? And it's only half-finished." Toya was interested.

Roy looked at the unfinished pentagram drawn in charcoal, and he thought about it. "I don't remember." He couldn't think of anyone who'd do that no matter how hard he tried. "Probably some cheeky kid in the House of Cardell. Probably did it when I wasn't looking. Let's talk about Temeria. It's a nation in northern Aedirn. The only thing between Aldersberg and Aedirn is the Mahakam mountain range. Toya, have you ever thought about traveling to another nation?"

"C-Can I do that?" She trembled, her eyes filled with terror, but also longing. She shook her head. "No. It's been years since I left the mill. Temeria is too far away from me. I have to feed the chickens, water the flowers, sweep the floor, and finish a lot of chores every day. Hank and Mana won't let me leave."

"Just imagine it." Roy twirled his finger beside his head. "They can't read your mind."

Toya's eyes shone.

Chapter 35

The leaves were falling from the hornbeam once again, and they danced in the air. Children chased them around, laughing happily, their joy spreading through the school. The classroom stood not far from it, and Roy was leaning against the rickety wall, staring at the incomplete pentagram on his sleeve, his frowning face standing out like a sore thumb.

Vivien came up to him. "I wasn't feeling too great yesterday, so I didn't ask you to stay after school. Why don't I help you with your revision after school today?"

Roy nodded, but he still looked tense, and he didn't listen closely to what she'd just said.

"Oh, right. Miss Cardell wants you to see her in her office," Vivien said.

"How do you feel about the school? Getting along with the other children? What about the classroom? Anything that needs to be improved?" Cardell put her hands on the table and peered at Roy, who was sitting across from her. Her eyes were filled with encouragement, but her laugh lines made it look like she was interrogating him.

"I think everything's good," he answered honestly. "Especially Miss Vivien. She's been putting in a lot of effort. I wouldn't be improving as fast if not for her. Oh yes, Miss Cardell. I have one question." Roy paused. "Does Miss Vivien have a brother?"

Cardell shook her head. "No. She only has a father who's a drunkard, and a mother who's mentally ill. They depend on her for money, and because of that, she never got married."

That only added to Roy's questions. That wasn't what Vivien had told him yesterday. "I thought she had a brother. That would explain why she takes great care of me. Maybe she thinks of me as her brother."

Cardell shook her head seriously. "Roy, Vivien has been helping me with the school for a decade. I see her as my own daughter, and I know her very well. She has no siblings, and she cares about every student. Vivien's paying more attention to you because you're a new student."

Roy didn't ask any more, as if accepting the explanation. Cardell patted his head and smiled. Some of the boys in the school liked the young, beautiful Vivien. They would fantasize about her giving them special treatment, and she thought Roy was one of them.

"Roy, you have potential. You completed two months worth of syllabus in two weeks. That's better than everyone else. Maybe you'll graduate as valedictorian in a few years. I'll draw your portrait then and hang it here. As a way of immortalizing you and encouraging the future children to be just like you."

Cardell opened her desk's drawer and took out a few framed portraits for Roy to see. They were lifelike oil paintings that depicted young boys and girls. Roy looked at the portraits, and he froze at the sight of one of them.

"Helheim, graduated on the twentieth of December, year 1259."

The portrait was of a boy in his teenage years. He had black hair and freckles on his nose. The boy would've looked ordinary and forgettable enough in a crowd, if not for the ugly scar under his right eye. Roy was sure he'd seen the boy before, but he couldn't remember from where. "Where do the valedictorians work?"

Cardell had a proud look on her face after Roy asked her that. "I call the shots for a few things in Aedirn. They're talented, but they need training, so I recommend them to other cities like Lyria, Rivia, Upper Posada, Lower Posada, and even Vengerberg. Most of them work in the literary world. Some become historians, some scribes, some librarians."

Roy pretended to have a look of longing on his face, but he thought Cardell was lying. This school isn't as simple as it seems. They have another motive.

Vivien was explaining some complex words to Roy after school when an unkempt, pudgy, middle-aged man barged into the classroom. He looked like a human-sized meatball that was wearing a dark, brown shirt drenched in liquor and scraps of food. His hair was disheveled and oily, evident he hadn't washed it in a while. He reeked of mold and looked like a beggar.

He hobbled over to them and looked at Roy suspiciously before turning to Vivien and extending his hand. "Why didn't you come home last night, Vivien? Give me money," he demanded matter-of-factly. "I'm out of booze."

Vivien stood in front of Roy, pulling her behind him, her gentle look replaced with one of anger. "I have no money for you."

"You damned girl. You spent it all? You know you should leave some for me." A frown creased the man's forehead. He bared his yellow teeth and spat on the ground. "Bring the money back tomorrow, or else," he threatened before leaving, muttering something under his breath.

"Is that your father?" Roy asked carefully. He noticed Vivien wasn't looking too happy.

"Yes. He's my father, Bob," Vivien answered quietly. "Scary, isn't he?"

"W-well…" Roy didn't think it was appropriate for him to criticize someone else's parents. "Maybe he's just acting that way because he's drunk."

"Don't worry. You can say what you want about him. That man hasn't been sober his entire life, and he doesn't care about his family. The first thing he does when he wakes up is drink, and the only time he'll sleep is when he's drunk." Vivien seemed unperturbed by her father's actions. She was numb to them at this point. Vivien sounded resigned and mocking. Anyone with a father like that is just unlucky. "Bob has never done his job as a father. He doesn't even care about his missing son."

His son? Vivien's brother? The one Cardell said was nonexistent? Roy looked at her weirdly. "What's going on, Vivien? Can you tell me about it?" Since he needed to persuade her, Roy added, "I've been following a witcher around for a while. To be precise, my teacher is a witcher from the Viper School. He's taught me ways to handle weird and bizarre happenings. Maybe I can help you."

"Is that true?" She arched an eyebrow, doubtful of what Roy had just said. "From what I've seen, the shape and color of your eyes are different from those witchers."

"Because I'm still a disciple, and I haven't passed the Trial of the Grasses yet, so I'm no stronger than an ordinary human." Roy then talked about his journey with Letho.

Vivien kept quiet for a while. "Alright then, Roy. I trust you, though I don't understand why a witcher's disciple is working at an herb booth in the marketplace. Since you're willing to hear me out, and you have experience, I can tell you what happened. At least you won't think me mad." She took a deep breath. "It's incredible though. I can't even be sure about what my brother looks like, or how old he is, or where he is right now." She laughed to herself, and she looked conflicted. Even she herself thought it was ludicrous.

"Everyone thought I'd gone insane when I first told them about my brother. Nobody had ever seen him. Not Miss Cardel, and none of my cute students either. Nobody remembers I have a brother. I tried to prove to that drunkard that he had a son by showing him boy clothes that were lying around, but he said I had a bastard son instead. My mother doesn't know what I'm talking about. It was then I realized that everyone would've thought me possessed by a demon if I'd kept that up. They would've burned me at the stake. Since then, I kept it a secret and led my life normally. It's been two years since then." Vivien went quiet again.

Her explanation added to Roy's questions. "That's weird, Vivien. If nobody remembers him, then how are you so sure you have a brother?"

"Because I have evidence. I told you there were clothes that belonged to a boy in my home. I would show them to you, but that drunkard burned them all." Regret flashed in her eyes, then she resolved herself. Vivien was sure she wasn't imagining things. "Also, since I started working with Miss Cardell, I made a habit of recording my life in my journal every two weeks or once a month. It's to jot down everything that left an impression on me, whether it be at home, the school, or the streets. It's been ten years." She stopped for a moment. "I would read my journal once in a while. I've set a high bar for myself. My dream is to become someone respected and well-beloved like Miss Cardell one day, so I would correct my inappropriate actions after reading my journal."

"You've done it though, Vivien. Everyone in the school likes you, and even their parents do too," Roy answered earnestly. He thought Vivien was pushing herself too much.

"No, I still have a long way to go." She shook her head and spaced out at the sky. "When I went through my journal two years ago, I found some strange records." She stopped, but then said solemnly, "Aside from me, that drunkard, and my poor mother, there was another person in my house."

Roy felt goosebumps on his skin, for Vivien's story had taken an eerie turn. She took off her necklace, pressing down on it to open it. She took out a wrinkled piece of paper and laid it out. It was the size of a palm, and on it was a crude drawing of two people. One of them was taller than the other, and they were holding hands. On the left was a tall lady, and on her right stood a boy with red cheeks. They were beaming, and the two looked close; they were obviously siblings.

"Then I found a bunch of clothes for boys in my home. The clothes are far smaller than the drunkard could handle, and there's also this weird drawing in my necklace. This is why I'm sure I have a brother. But for some unknown reason, I can't remember him." Vivien looked confused and frustrated, and she only continued after a while. "That feeling was strongest when I helped you out in the slums. I know you and him must be really alike. Even though I don't know what he looks like, I have a feeling he exists." 𝒷ℯ𝒹𝓃𝓸𝓿ℯ𝓁.𝒸ℴ𝓶

Oh, that explains why she's so nice to me even though it was our first time meeting each other. But Roy still thought something was off. He decided to go along with her story to find out what was happening. "Pardon me, Vivien, but can I see that part of the journal?"

"Of course. Ask me if you come across words you don't know. I can explain them." Vivien looked tense, and she whispered carefully, "But don't tell anyone about this before we have any definite evidence. This is for your own good, understood?"

Chapter 36

Roy went with Vivien to the third floor of the school where the dorms were located. She would stay in her room whenever she needed to stay the night at school. Miss Cardell and the homeless students' rooms were beside hers, though nobody was there at the moment.

Vivien led him into her room, which was far shabbier than how it'd looked from the outside. The walls were cracked and filled with black mold. There was nothing but a table, a chair, a clock, a full-body mirror, a wooden bed with a blanket on it, and a brown wooden crate near the bed.

After Vivien unlocked the crate, she took out a small stack of wrinkly, yellowed, rough paper and placed it on her desk. "You should understand a bit more about how I feel once you read them."

Roy nodded and read them in silence. Vivien sat beside him nervously and explained the meaning of the words he didn't know. The handwriting was slender and beautiful, but since the quill and ink were poor, some of the words stuck together, forming black blobs of ink. It ruined the aesthetic, but didn't hinder the reading.

'Twelfth of May, 1256. That drunkard almost tore apart the house today, but there was not one crown to be found. He has no money for liquor, and the innkeeper doesn't allow him to put it on his tab anymore. He was finally sober for a day, and his rotten conscience seemed to have healed, even if just for a bit. The day felt like a dream. The four of us sat around the table in our dingy house, celebrating my poor mother's birthday with smoked fish. O wise Prophet Lebioda, grant us your blessing, and may we have such a birthday celebration next year.'

The four of us? Roy rubbed his eyes. He thought he read something wrong. Vivien, her drunkard father, her mentally-ill mother, and…

"Did you have a guest over?" Roy looked at her. "Or is this a wrong entry?"

"If my memory serves me right, we never had any guests over for my mother's dinner. To be more precise, nobody ever came to our house, aside from the innkeeper who wanted the money the drunkard owed him. Did you say it's a wrong entry?" Vivien continued calmly. "I'm in charge of Cardell's math class. Do you think I would make an elementary mistake like that? I can't mistake three for four. Just keep reading."

Roy patiently went back to the journal and read another entry. It was shorter.

'Twentieth of January, 1257. He got into a fight with Miguel, who insulted our father. That man came to the school as drunk as usual, and as always, he came to me for money. Nothing but insults and profanities came from him. He's worse than the thugs from the Sparrow Triad. I agree with what Miguel had said. That drunkard is nothing but a bastard.'

Roy was curious about who 'he' was. From the entry, he could deduce that 'he' and Vivien had the same father, which meant 'he' might be her brother. 𝒷ℯ𝒹𝓃𝓸𝓿ℯ𝓁.𝒸ℴ𝓶

'Nineteenth of August, 1257. Miss Cardell, the person I respect the most, talked to me today. She first praised me for my contribution to the school and told me to keep up the hard work for the sake of producing great students. My ultimate goal is to get one of the students into Oxenfurt Academy. Not even Miss Cardell managed to do that. And then Miss Cardell told me about _ She suggested I should care more for _ Miss Cardell said I shouldn't overlook him no matter what, since I am his family. It was then I realized that the drunkard, my poor mother, and I have been overlooking him since a while ago.'

"Did you notice something?" She suddenly pointed at a line on the page. "Something's missing here."

"Yes. It's weird." Roy looked flummoxed. "Two parts here are missing. Who were you talking about? Who should you care more for?" Obviously someone left this blank. Looks like a name.

Vivien heaved a sigh. "I knew I wasn't seeing things. It's obvious the blanks are supposed to be my brother's name. Keep on reading. There are a few more entries like this." Vivien pointed out eight other ones that had the same thing. A mysterious character was in all of the entries, but none of them spoke about the character's name, what he looked like, or his age. But he could see that the mysterious character was close to Vivien and her family, and that he had attended the House of Cardell.

The final entry was written on the fourth of October, 1258. The date was just a little more than a month ago.

'That drunkard had too much to drink. He started going on a rampage, slapping and throttling me, demanding money. If I'd been even a moment late when I'd pushed him away, I could have died. I ran away in tears, and _ came after me, worried about my safety. We went to the school and chatted for the whole night. There were a lot of leaves that had fallen from the hornbeam that night.'

Roy leaned back on the chair, massaging his temples as his eyes closed. When he sorted all the information that was swirling around in his mind, the first realization he had was that one of the entries contradicted Miss Cardell's testimony from that afternoon. If Miss Cardell didn't think Vivien had a brother, there was no reason for her to ask Vivien to care for someone who didn't exist. When Roy thought about it, Miss Cardell didn't look like she was lying, whereas Vivien was being too paranoid. Suspicious.

Then Roy thought, Miss Cardell, Tross, Hank, and the journal proved that Vivien has a drunk, abusive father and a mentally unstable mother. If I include that broken family into the equation, does that mean that the gorgeous, impeccable Vivien has some sort of mental illness? That's a logical conclusion.

Roy was more than ready to believe that Vivien was mentally ill, rather than her having a mysterious brother nobody had ever seen. When he looked at her closely, Roy noticed that her chest was heaving. Her breath was shallow, and her gaze was full of yearning.

"Has 'he' ever appeared after the fourth of October, 1258?"

"No. 'He' has disappeared since." She shook her head in disappointment. "The earliest entries he was mentioned in date back to 1256 and before, but since it's too far back, there's no use in thinking about that."

Roy tapped the desk. "What's the newest entry after the fourth?"

"First of November. On Saovine."

Roy took a deep breath. "So he might have gotten into an accident between the fourth of October and Saovine."

"I had the same idea." Vivien's voice was trembling. "What do you think, Roy? Do you trust me, as a witcher's disciple? Or do you think I've gone mad, just like everyone else? Do you think I just came up with the idea of having a brother who only exists in my imagination?"

Roy wanted to say yes, but he thought he shouldn't agitate her. "There are many things that can't be explained in this world, so I believe you, Vivien. I'll find more on 'him.'"

Roy had a rough guess, but there was nothing to support his conjecture, since Vivien was his only lead. He needed to find more definite evidence to prove that everything was just Vivien's imagination.

Vivien tapped her chest and sighed in relief. She looked touched that Roy trusted her, and she held his hand. "I've heard about the witchers' rule. I'll prepare the bounty."

"We can talk about that later." Roy wasn't someone who'd do everything for free, but he would help someone who did everything they could for the House of Cardell as long as it wasn't too dangerous. A witcher should never fight an enemy he can't win against. He needed to go on some reconnaissance.

"Thank you, then. Please help me locate 'him.' But be careful, and don't tell anyone about this."

"I understand."

Chapter 37

Since Roy had decided to investigate the matter, he'd have to take a day off from his job. Before he went back to the watermill that evening, he told Ruhr and Tross about it.

Tross agreed to it readily. "You want a day off tomorrow? Sure. You've done great over the past two weeks. You'll still be paid the agreed wage. But why though? Do you have a girlfriend in Aldersberg? Going on a date with her? I've been where you are right now, lad, so here's a piece of advice: a woman's greed runs deeper than hell. Your crowns are going nowhere if you spend them on her. They'll never be satisfied."

"Stop teasing me, Tross," Roy shot back. "I don't have a girlfriend. I'm searching for someone in the lower city, but I can't tell you who I'm looking for."

Tross gave him a solemn reminder. "Then, be careful."

After resting at the watermill for the night, Roy went to the lower city the next day. The sky was overcast. If he wanted to verify Vivien's testimony, he had to see the drunkard who'd come to the House of Cardell a day ago to ask Vivien for money. In other words, her father.

There's no way he'll forget about his son, no matter how drunk he is. Roy found out where Vivien's house was a couple weeks ago. It was a rickety wooden house in the easternmost part of the lower city. The house was easy to find, and Roy had gone in the morning to avoid bumping into the Sparrow Triad thugs again, but luck was not on his side.

The moment he stepped onto the slums' streets, he felt someone glaring at him from behind. When he looked behind him from the corner of his eye, he saw a bald, burly man with a tattoo on his neck following him. The man was wearing a thick, yellow coat, black pants, and long boots. He looked like Letho, but his expression wasn't the same. Letho was a distant man, while the burly thug looked brutish, as if his rage were about to explode any minute. He was around six feet four*, his neck short but thick, his coat bursting at the seams. The man looked like a bear standing on its hind legs.

PR/N: Six feet four is around 1.93 meters.

The morning wind cut through him like blades. There weren't many people on the streets at that hour. Most were either still sleeping or already in the marketplace, working. Roy pretended not to notice him. Instead of yelling or calling for help, he hastened his steps and left the streets, turning into a remote, dark, squalid alley. The man sped up too.

A short while later, they started to jog, and the chase went on for a few minutes. Roy's turns eventually made him run into a dead end — a wall filled with algae and putrid fluids that was blocking him. The man behind him took out a handkerchief laced with drugs, approaching Roy with a sneer.

"Hey man, I don't think I've crossed you, huh?" Roy turned and forced a smile, showing his hands to the man who was thirty feet away. "I'm harmless. Can't you let me go? I can give you all the money you want."

The man stopped twenty feet away, and greed gleamed within his eyes. "I can take whatever I want once I get my hands on you anyway," he said gruffly."But you can try asking for help. See if anyone will lend a hand." Their difference in size was like that of a child and an adult. The man didn't see any weapon on Roy, and he thought Roy was just harmless prey, nothing more than something he could easily kill. No harm in telling him something before he dies.

And then a crisp clang rang out in the alley as Roy suddenly tossed a handful of crowns onto the ground, stunning the man. It was the first time he'd faced such a situation, and he reflexively went to take the crowns.

Roy asked a question. "You're one of them, aren't you? The Sparrow Triad. Didn't expect thugs to be more professional now. It's not even seven, and you're already staking out here? Aren't you guys cold?"

"It's your fault for being stupid, brat." The burly man quickly took the crowns before snapping out of it and darting toward Roy. "Save your questions for the mine — " The man stopped moving before he could react. The last thing he felt was pain in his right eye, and then he was gone.

The man's brutish body still took two steps forward from the inertia before falling with a thud. He knelt on the ground before falling face first, as if he were groveling at Roy's feet. A moment later, blood started pooling around him, flowing out of the holes in his head.

A message showed up in the character sheet. 'You have killed Fossa. Twenty EXP gained.'

Roy heaved a sigh, and the hand crossbow disappeared into thin air. He went to pat the carcass, and it disappeared too. After everything he'd been through, human corpses were no different from animal carcasses. He went to pick up the crowns and the bolt that had blood and flesh stuck to it. Once he placed those in his inventory space, he couldn't fit in a single more thing.

Roy was happy with his kill. If this were in the past, the bolt would've just stuck into his victim's head if he'd shot for the eye. Since the man was less than ten feet away, the bolt pierced through his head thanks to the activation of Crossbow Mastery and Massacre's added damage. It's better than I'd imagined. He spent so much time talking just so he could confirm one thing.

Being tailed by the Triad for the first time might have been a coincidence, but the same thing happening a second time — and at such an hour — couldn't have been a coincidence. Someone sold me out. Not many people knew he would come to the lower city that morning, and when he thought about why he'd gone to the lower city last time, he had a suspect in mind.

So the Sparrow Triad was tipped off, and they were going to sell me off to the dwarves as a miner, huh? Roy sighed, his mood marred. Being sold out didn't feel good. He thought they could've been friends after getting along for a few weeks. He thought he could have trusted that person.

"Am I too naive?"

Then Roy left the alley, leaving nothing but a pool of blood behind that told of an unknown murder.

After going through the dirty alleyways, he arrived in the depths of the lower city, and a small house sat quietly within wooden fences. Vivien's house was more dilapidated than Roy had imagined. The walls were cracked and filled with dirt. The roof was leaking, and only a piece of black, tattered cloth was covering it.

A pudgy, morbidly obese man was sitting on a stump in the yard, spacing out. His cheeks were sickly red, his eyes murky with a drunken stupor. "Who are you looking for, brat? Why'd you come to this shithole of a place?" Bob glanced at Roy impatiently. He thought he'd seen Roy before, but the alcohol was stripping him of his memory.

"You're Vivien's father, aren't you?" Roy went into the yard and smiled sheepishly. "I'm Roy, a student from the House of Cardell. I need to ask you some questions."

"Well, that's a shocker. What business does a brat like you have with me?" Bob snapped out of his stupor, staring at Roy in surprise. "If it's about the best inn in the city and all things liquor, I can answer every question you got, but if it's something else, then sorry. No idea." Bob then paused. "It's the morning. Shouldn't you be in the House of Cardell? Hmm?"

He sniffed the air and licked his lips. Greed gleamed in his eyes when he saw Roy take out a green bottle out of nowhere and swing it before him. Bob had been drinking for years, and he could see that Roy was holding a bottle of dwarven liquor — his favorite booze. It had been a couple days since he'd had any alcohol, for he had no money to pay for it. The familiar scent of liquor broke through his defenses easily. "Ask away, lad. I'll answer anything as long as I can get that in the end." Bob stared at the bottle like the addict he was, his gaze filled with yearning.

Roy nodded. The best way to get an answer from him is to give him what he likes. "Get a cup, Bob. I'll let you have a cup every time you answer a question."

"Alright. Give me a second, and don't leave."

"How many people are there in your family?" Roy swirled the cup of clear liquor in front of him, and Bob fidgeted. He clawed at the cup, trying to satiate his itch.

"Three," he answered. "Me, my crazy wife, and that disrespectful daughter."

"Think harder." Roy placed the cup near him and moved it the moment Bob tried to get a hold of it.

"Give it to me! I said there's only three of us, you br… No, sorry." Bob put his palms together, his flabby muscles trembling. "I swear there's only three of us in the family, Roy," he said humbly. "If I am lying, then I shall never drink again."

"Here." 𝒃𝒆𝒅𝙣𝒐𝒗𝙚𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝒎

Bob gulped it down and heaved a sigh filled with ecstasy, as if he'd reached heaven. As Roy looked at Bob's vulgar form, he told himself to never get addicted to any substance. Roy composed himself and asked another question. "Five… No, was there anyone who lived with you for a long while ten years ago?"

"No." Bob looked angry. "They were afraid I'd be a burden."

"Does Vivien have any siblings?"

"That girl is an only child," Bob answered firmly. "She has no siblings. I might be drunk, but I ain't retarded. I won't forget how many children I have."

"Then do you have any children who died early? Or does Vivien have any siblings who died in an accident?"

"Roy, my boy, what kind of question is that?" Bob had answered with a question, holding down his urge to drink. "Why are you looking into my family so much?"

"Just answer me." He swirled the cup of liquor again. "Don't think about anything else."

"Alright then, I'll tell you. My wife only gave birth to Vivien." Then he sighed. "I want a few more children, but my body's wrecked since I have too much to drink. Do you understand what I'm talking about? Want to hear about it in detail?"

Fifteen minutes later, Bob was sleeping near the stump after finishing the liquor. He denied ever having a son even when he was half-sober. I don't think he could've lied in that condition.

Roy left the drunken man alone and went into the rickety house. What greeted him was a gaunt, pasty woman with unruly hair sitting at a round table near the doorstep mumbling to herself eerily.

Roy observed her in silence before going to sit across from her. "Ma'am, I — "

The woman said nothing. Even though her gaze met Roy's, it didn't look like she saw or heard him. Apparently, she was in her own world.

A grin would carve itself onto the woman's wrinkled face at times, but the next moment, her eyes would widen in rage. And then she'd stare down, looking crestfallen. Roy was flummoxed.

"Lowry, my dear, did you get thinner? Working too hard at school again? I made your favorite. Have some." The woman stared at her left and mumbled to the air gently. Then, she ladled some steaming vegetable soup from the cauldron in the table's center before pouring it into the bowl on the left. "Take it slow. You're a lady. Wolfing your food down won't help you get married."

Lowry? Probably Vivien's nickname.

The woman then put her hands on her hips and glared to the right. "What on earth did you do, Bob? You look like a mess. Did you get into a fight after you got drunk again yesterday? You smell like shit. Don't even think about getting into bed with me tonight. Do it again and you're getting the boot. Hmph!" She prepared more vegetable soup and dug into it. An empty bowl with a ladle in it now sat before her.

Roy watched her in silence. Once she finished her soup, he tried calling out to her a few more times, but to no avail. Since he couldn't communicate with her, Roy left the house and went around the area. He asked the residents who were smoking in the yard about Vivien's family, and as expected, they were sure that Vivien's family only consisted of three people. There's no way everyone's lying.

Chapter 38

There was still some time before noon. Once Roy left the lower city, he quickly went back to the House of Cardell and slipped inside quietly. The students were listening to Miss Cardell's history lessons calmly, while Vivien was sitting alone in the back.

Great. I came back just in time. Everyone's in class except for me and the kitchen lady. Roy scurried to Miss Cardell's office on the second floor, but the door was locked. He went to the leftmost part of the corridor and leaned out to look at the window closely.

The window was open, and it wasn't far from the corridor, nor too high up from the ground. Roy took a deep breath and hunkered down on the guardrail. He squatted a few times, estimating the strength needed for him to reach the window. And then he sprung to the side, his arms spread open like wings, and he grabbed the windowsill. He moved his upper body and leaped into the room, agile like a cat. It wasn't too hard for Roy to do that, since his body was on par with that of an adult's.

The room was in the same condition it had been in during Roy's first day. He went toward the desk behind the bookrack and tugged on the drawers and cabinets. Alas, everything was locked, but he didn't want to leave without any clues, so he searched the rack, the sofa, and even the pencil case. Half an hour later, Roy surprisingly found a bronze key in a book called 'Time of the Moon.' When he tried using it to unlock the cabinet near the desk, the door opened for him, revealing a few stacks of neatly sorted papers.

One of them recorded Roy's information. As Cardell had said, every new student had gone through the same process, recording their date of entry, name, gender, age, address, family, and simple description, like hair and eye color, birthmarks, as well as scars. Roy thought that if Vivien's brother did exist, and if he'd attended the House of Cardell, then there must've been records of him. There should be traces if he's a real person. Even if nobody remembers 'him,' the records should.

Cardell had sorted out the papers according to the students' year of entry. Roy counted the stacks and realized there were thirteen of them. In other words, the House of Cardell had existed for at least thirteen years. There were only a couple of registration forms in 1248, presumably when the school started operating. More students had enrolled over the years. Since around four years ago, the number of new students had been staying at thirty per year.

Most of the new students would enter around May — the same time the older students had their graduation. Almost nobody joined in the middle of the year like Roy. These papers are the House of Cardell's historical records. They talk about the story of a school that serves the poor because its founder had a dream. It talks about how they grow in an era where chaos, triads, and revolutions are rife. The papers were light, but they held great weight.

Roy flipped through them carefully, but he didn't read them word by word. It would be too inefficient, and he didn't know how to read some of the words. All he looked for were the year of entry, name, and family of the students. And he only searched the records that were within six or seven years, as the House of Cardell only allowed a student to stay for five at most.

"Hill… No. Flick… No. Vivien's not his sister. Kars… No. The address doesn't match." He finished flipping through two hundred registration forms in fifteen minutes. There were a few empty forms in between — perhaps used by Cardell to motivate herself — and he double and triple checked them.

After his third check, Roy heaved a sigh and stacked the forms before putting them back into the cabinet. He had a complex look on his face. He didn't find anything on Vivien's brother. That made him think that his investigation was nearing its end. He thought the conclusion was logical, but also hard to accept. Is Vivien really going mad?

Some of the records held names Roy was familiar with, names that belonged to children who were still in the school. Two of them left an impression. One was Miguel, the child who got into a fight with 'him,' and the other was Helheim, the boy with a scar under his eyes — the one Cardell had drawn a portrait of.

Roy looked at the clock. There was still an hour until twelve. He was planning on asking Miguel some questions after lunch to gather some final evidence. Before he left, Roy hesitated and opened some other drawers out of curiosity.

"Hm. Books, quills, ink… " Roy rummaged through the drawers. "Huh? Makeup products? Didn't expect the stern Miss Cardell to be someone who cares about her appearance. Huh? This is… ?" Roy found a wrinkled pamphlet in the third drawer near the corner by accident.

"Vernon Ryan, the great leader of the Aldersberg revolutionists, was fighting for the people's rights when Baron Tavik, in all his cruelty, incarcerated him for three months. The just revolutionists who went to the protest march were defeated by the baron's forces, but the revolution shall not wane. A new team is assembling…"

Roy finally had the answer to one of his questions. He finally realized who Helheim — the valedictorian — was. The man with the scar was one of the revolutionists — the one in the cape he'd bumped into when he and Letho were leaving Seville's residence.

Cardell's hiding this pamphlet in her drawer, but she said she sent the great students somewhere else to work. But obviously, she has a lot to do with the revolutionists. Roy made a daring presupposition and thought that Cardell was important for the revolution. He thought she might've founded the school to raise new revolutionists. 𝐛𝗲𝗱𝐧𝐨𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝐜𝐨𝐦

And then, he was reminded of his first day, when he'd overheard her lessons. Back then, he had a strange feeling that Miss Cardell was biased toward the revolutionists. She criticized the nobles of Aldersberg, and even the whole of Aedirn.

Wait, this makes sense. House of Cardell's backers are the revolutionists. If I keep this up and stay for a few more years, Cardell's going to persuade me to join the revolution.

Roy took a deep breath, unsure of what to feel. He was there to find out more about Vivien's brother, but he didn't expect to find Cardell's skeleton in the closet. So does she have anything to do with Vivien's brother? Did she take him into the revolution, like how she did with Helheim?

Roy dismissed that idea quickly. No matter how powerful Cardell was in the revolution, she was still human. It was impossible for her to erase Vivien, her family, and her neighbors' memories. Even Helheim had a portrait, but Vivien's brother didn't.

Bob's testimony and the missing form were enough evidence that Vivien's brother did not exist. If Miguel denied the boy's existence too, then…

Chapter 39

After making sure the room was the same as before he'd come in, Roy went back into the classroom like nothing had happened. He cast Observe on everyone in the school, including Vivien and Cardell — especially Cardell. He spent the most time on her, but all her stats were that of a normal person. Everyone else too. None of them were powerful entities or mysterious beings in the game.

Roy was surprised to find out that a human female over the age of forty like Cardell had a better physique than that of an average adult. Her stats were seven on average, and she had two skills: Trained, and Dagger Mastery. Roy knew she was related to the revolution based on that alone.

After they had lunch, Roy went to Miguel, who was frolicking with the boys on the field. The boy was burly and had a lot of pimples, and he was about to graduate in the coming year. He ignored Roy at first, looking at him with disdain, obviously disliking him. He was jealous of Roy, for he was cared for by the beautiful Vivien, something Miguel never was.

But he became all smiles and answered Roy's question once he was paid two crowns. "Vivien's brother?" Miguel was shocked when he heard the question. "I've been here for four years, and I'm the kids' senior. I've been paying a lot of attention to Vivien for four years, and I can say for sure that she has no siblings. I'm not the only one who likes her. See those brats there? They like her too. You too, don't you? Don't lie."

When Miguel heard the next question, he gasped. "Fight? Are you out of your mind, Roy? Don't you think that's absurd? I've never even seen her brother, so how could I fight him? Oh, I do dislike her father though. If I got the chance, I might just cover his head with a sack and mess him up."

Miguel's answer was within Roy's expectations. He then picked a few more younger students and took them aside to ask about Vivien's family. They provided the same answers. Roy wasn't sure if anyone was lying. He couldn't prove it either, since he didn't know how to cast Axii, but it was impossible to get every child to lie like it was nobody's business. It's credible, and more than likely.

Roy glanced at Vivien who was playing with the children under the hornbeam with a smile. He felt sorry that Vivien was mentally ill. Since his primary investigation had ended, he would go talk to her and see if there were any more leads.

Roy and Vivien were standing outside the dorms on the third floor, letting the cold wind blow against them as they watched the children and parents leave the premises with Miss Cardell ushering them out. "I have some clues about your 'brother,' Vivien."

"You found something?" Vivien had longing in her eyes. She held his hand nervously and dragged him to her room. "Is it a big clue?"

"Well…" Roy massaged his temples. He didn't think it was appropriate to tell her straight. "Did you ask everyone in the school about 'him?'"

"Of course I did." She frowned, sighing. "I told you nobody admits 'he' exists."

"What do you think, then?" Roy tried to be as gentle as possible. "If 'he' really exists, then why does nobody remember him? Not even your parents."

"That's impossible to explain, and I've been looking into that for two years." She clenched her fists and paced in a panic. The setting sun's light draped over her, granting her a look of eerie holiness. "I've eliminated all the improbable possibilities, and arrived at one conclusion — all our memories about 'him' have been erased. That's why I asked for your help. Witchers come across weird stuff all the time, don't they? Haven't you come across something similar? Like how a mysterious monster could take away my poor brother and erase all traces of him?"

"Erased all traces of him?" Roy was surprised. He didn't want to think about that possibility, but he couldn't deny it. However, he had evidence to prove that wasn't the case. "Have you ever thought that even if everyone's memories were erased, some things couldn't disappear?"

"You're saying…" Vivien became serious.

"The registration form." Roy looked into her eyes calmly. "Your journal said he attended the House of Cardell, and every student has a registration form. To tell you the truth, Vivien, I've looked around Miss Cardell's office and flipped through almost three hundred forms that date back to a few years ago. The forms include the students we have right now, but your brother isn't there. There aren't any records about him. Do you know what that means?"

Vivien shook her head in disappointment. "The forms prove nothing, Roy. I'm Miss Cardell's assistant, and I can see those papers easily if I want to. I know there's no record of him there, but so what?" She asked, "If the creature can erase memories, wouldn't removing a simple record be child's play?"

Roy couldn't answer that. Wow, she's more stubborn than I thought. It won't be easy to convince her. A creature that can erase anything it wants? Does she think it's Melitele or Lebioda? Where's the proof?

Vivien continued. "Did you forget, Roy? You saw the missing names in the entries. You can't think I did that on purpose, can you? Obviously, his name was removed along with everyone's memories. That's why there are blanks there."

"That's nonsense. What makes you think that?" Roy retorted. But then he paused. An idea struck him. "A blank appears where something is erased…"

He pondered on that statement, spacing out. When he went through the forms, there were a few empty ones among them. He didn't think much about them, supposing they were just Cardell's way of padding the number of students, but after hearing Vivien's explanation, he had another idea. "A blank appears where something is erased."

Could it be that the empty forms had records on them before this, but they were erased along with the memories of the missing students? That might be why they became blank papers nobody cares about. "The memories about the missing people and the records as well as the pictures that prove they exist are erased, huh?" Inspiration struck him, and he remembered something Toya had asked.

"Roy, who drew a pentagram on your left sleeve? And it's only half-finished."

"I don't remember. Probably some cheeky kid in the House of Cardell. Probably did it when I wasn't looking.

Roy looked at his left sleeve where the unfinished pentagram was drawn in charcoal. It had almost disappeared, leaving nothing but a faint corner. Everywhere else seemed to have been washed away, leaving no trace. There's no way daily wear and tear could erase the pentagram this cleanly.

"No, wait. The pentagram wasn't unfinished. It should've been a complete one in the first place."

The simple shape had almost disappeared over the span of a few days, and Roy never imagined it to be evidence proving he'd forgotten about someone's existence. "The traces of the missing people would be erased too. No wonder there are none." He could feel something weighing down on him, and he hyperventilated.

"In other words, ever since I came into this school, I was unconsciously forgetting someone, and that someone was the student who left this mark on my sleeve. And soon, our only clue will disappear."

Chapter 40

Roy and Vivien were furiously flipping through the records in Miss Cardell's office. The owner of the office was standing behind them, looking at them coldly with her arms crossed. She was trying to find out what her student and assistant were doing after suddenly requesting a check on the records.

"1256, 1257, 1258, 1259, 1260." They found five empty papers from the stacks of registration forms. Each corresponded to a year from 1256 to 1260.

"So there are five missing children. One for every year," Roy whispered to Vivien. "This is a pattern — not a coincidence."

"What did you two find out? Shouldn't you be explaining this to me?"

"Miss Cardell, you've been keeping tabs on the entry of students. Have you seen these empty records then?"

Miss Cardell took the papers. When she checked through them, a frown creased her forehead. "These papers are custom-made. One piece for every student. They aren't cheap, and I don't waste money. But I might have put them in by mistake."

"They weren't empty in the first place," Roy explained. "A student's record was on it, but they were erased along with everything that proved the student's existence. To be exact, the culprit took it away."

"You're starting to sound like Vivien. We're in Aldersberg, one of the biggest cities in the land. Nobody would dare kidnap my students under my nose. Not even the Sparrow Triad," Cardell argued. "Unless you can produce more evidence, trying to pull a prank will warrant you an expulsion, Roy."

"If you want proof, you'll have to wait." He was the only one who'd seen the disappearance of the pentagram on his sleeve, and he couldn't prove it to anyone else, but he had a plan. "Vivien, what's the date of 'his' last appearance in your journal?"

"I've read through it hundreds of times over the years. I can even recite them word by word," Vivien said. "It was the fourth of October, 1258. That night, Bob slapped me in a drunken rage, and I came to the school, furious and fearful. 'He' came with me too. You even agreed that 'his' disappearance was between the fourth of October and Saovine."

It was the seventh of October 1260 that day. The pentagram on his sleeve had almost disappeared, and the student that drew it must've disappeared between those dates. Since Vivien's brother's disappearance and the student's disappearance were around the same time, it couldn't have been a coincidence.

Roy thought quickly. The incidents happening around October wasn't much of a lead, but then he considered the fact that Saovine was a month after that. The world of witchers ran the same course every living being would — it was a circle of life and death. There were eight magical dates, corresponding to the important dates in the world. They were: Saovine, Midinvaerne, Imbaelk, Birke, Belleteyn, Midaete, Lammas, and Velen.

The days closer to those dates were when magic would be at its strongest, making magical and supernatural phenomenons normal occurrences. If the culprit had chosen to make its move during those dates, it must've been a creature sensitive to magic.

Roy made a note. 'The culprit has kidnapped one child every year since 1256, and the time frame is around Saovine. It could be a creature sensitive to mana. Possibly a monster or a human with magical talents.'

The second note went, 'The culprit will slowly erase most traces of its victims, including the memories of people around them, the words written by the victim, the portraits of the victims, as well as descriptions relating to the victim.'

"Vivien, I recall you writing in your journal that you and your family had unconsciously overlooked 'him.'"

"I think so," Vivien answered. "Since I want to be fair, I divided most of my attention equally to every student, so I ended up neglecting him." Vivien looked down. "Bob's a drunkard, so he doesn't have time for him. He's always out for liquor. Mother's not in her right mind, so communication is out most of the time."

"So 'he' is someone overlooked by everyone." Five victims. Even if the people around them have had their memories erased and the proof of their existence removed, none of their family members noticed something was wrong? None of them investigated? Roy wrote his conclusion. 'The culprit's target might be neglected children. That includes orphans. Maybe it's because of the culprit's selection method, or maybe it's because the culprit's cunning. Compared to popular people, if the victims are those who are neglected, then it wouldn't change the world too much. And it's harder to find out too, since it's more secretive.'

When Roy revealed his conclusions to the ladies, Vivien was surprised. She noticed everything Roy had written down, and she was clear about it, though she hadn't concluded so concisely.

Cardell's nonchalance was finally broken, but she was still skeptical. "Roy, the conclusions are scary, but still, you have no evidence to support them. Maybe your conclusions are wrong. Maybe there are no missing people."

"Evidence, huh? The best evidence is finding the culprit." Roy heaved a sigh. "Miss Cardell, please don't doubt me for now. Give me your trust. The culprit takes one child from the school every year when it's near Saovine." Roy asked, "Don't you think something's off?"

"The culprit is in the school." Vivien paled. "It comes out when it's near Saovine to take a child away. Are you trying to say that?"

"Impossible." Cardell shook her head. "I know everyone here well, including the kitchen maids. On Lebioda's name, I swear that nobody's the culprit."

"I never said that the culprit was human." Roy had cast Observe on everyone in the school, including the support staff. All of them were human, and none had the power to erase memories. "It's most possibly a monster in the school."

"You have an idea what it is?"

"Can't say for sure. Give me a minute." Roy didn't have any monster that fit the bill in mind, but that didn't mean he couldn't find out about it. He went out and circled the corridor for a while before taking out the notebook Letho left him, and then he went back into the room. The notebook had records about herbs, potions, and monsters, but since he was learning common speech, Roy didn't have time to read it.

"What is this?"

Vivien and Cardell gave him curious looks.

"A notebook left for me by a witcher. It contains information on various monsters. Maybe we can find the monster we're looking for here."

Then they looked through the information on the monsters, and the more Roy read, the more shocked he was. He didn't know most of the monsters written in the notebook. So this world is more complex than I thought. After going through a dozen monsters, they stumbled upon an entry on a certain page.

It said, "It's the end of autumn, the best season to hunt bears. Serrit and I stayed the night in a mountain village. The gales blew at night, and I could feel my bladder ready to burst. When I went to take a piss in the yard, my necklace started shaking. It was a soft vibration, and there wasn't much of a magical trace, but I knew a new prey was calling to me. Hunting monsters was more interesting than bears, especially since I knew nothing about it. That piss was a hint fate gave me.

"I found a rubber tree around five hundred years old, and it had some complex signs on it. The mana came from that tree. I tried to use Aard, Igni, and even nekker feces on it, but nothing worked — until I used salt. It reacted to salt. The tree's roots opened its mouth in pain, revealing a deep, dark, tree hole for me. I woke Serrit up and went into the hole to fight that bastard. Disciple of the Viper School, and yes, that's you. Do not skip what I am about to tell you. I named the monster in the hole separator/childhunter/ghost in the tree. It's a slender, humanoid creature with a face that has a vague form, tough skin made out of something like wood, and sharp, poisonous fangs and claws. If it bites you, your limbs and nerves will slowly go numb. Here's a picture of it.

"It's speed and strength are on par with a regular human's, and it can regenerate quickly. Most sharp objects won't harm it fatally, but it's afraid of fire, salt, and necrophage oil. Once Serrit and I disposed of it, we found fifteen carcasses in the hole, and the next day, we went around to talk to the villagers for two weeks. After much investigation, we found some information on it.

"It spends most of its time slumbering in the tree, only awakening when it's near Saovine, then it would hunt nearby humans. Its targets are usually young humans, and it loves ones who are neglected. First, it will cover its prey in its puke, consuming it once it's died from asphyxiation. Its puke has an unbelievable effect. It can slowly separate its prey from the real world, and once the prey has been fully separated, the kill is done. Most traces of the prey will disappear, and everyone will forget about that poor soul. This is a monster that lives under old trees. One that eats people who are forgotten.

"Newbie, if you're reading this, that means you haven't passed the Trial of the Grasses yet. If you want to go up against this bastard, remember to equip yourself with the stuff it's weak against, and wear thicker clothes. If you manage to kill it, take its tongue and dry it under the sun. It's the most valuable part.

"Written by Auckes, sixth of October 1204. Location: Barry Hill, Vicovaro, Nilfgaard."

The trio looked at one another in silence.

"So that means something's living under the hornbeam?" Cardell was incredulous. "And it's been there for years?" She gasped hoarsely. "Impossible. How could I have not known about this?" 𝐛𝗲𝐝𝐧𝗼𝐯𝐞𝐥．𝐜𝐨𝗺

"Then let's see if something's really there." Vivien clenched her fists, her face filled with resolve and hatred. "I seem to recall us having a lot of salt in the kitchen."

Roy took a deep breath and looked at the pentagram that had almost disappeared from his sleeve. The one I've forgotten could still be alive. Should I dive right into it?

Chapter 41

The salt fell along the cracks between their fingers, sliding down the hornbeam's bark. The crescent moon's silvery light illuminated the House of Cardell that night. Three people were standing around the gigantic hornbeam in the yard, covered in tight clothes. They huddled around the tree, torches in hand.

A short while later, a weird crack split the bark, and it expanded quickly, slowly starting to look like an open eye. Eventually, the crack stretched itself along the edge, forming an elliptical hole near the ground. When Roy shone his torch inside, he saw an incline extending downward. It was filled with vines, leaves, branches, and dirt. There was also the stench of soil coming out of the hole.

"So what next?"

Roy turned to the ladies in pink coats. He was wearing a pink coat too, which was funny, but he had no choice. There were only two women in the school. It was already gracious of them to share a coat with him.

There were also Letho's reminders that he had to follow.

"Since nobody has any idea, I'll do it," Roy said solemnly. "We can't all go down. One of us must stay outside to sprinkle the salt around the tree in case that thing in there comes out. And I must go down there." Roy took a deep breath. He had a great weapon in his inventory space, and if he followed Letho's notes, he had a chance of killing the ghost in the tree.

Miss Cardell left a solemn message before sliding down the incline. "This is my turf. That bastard's been staying here rent-free for years, and it took my children away. I have a score to settle." 𝒷ℯ𝒹𝓃𝓸𝓿ℯ𝓁.𝒸ℴ𝓶

"Right, then you stay here, Vivien." Roy slipped inside before Vivien could. "Don't worry, Vivien. I'll take 'him' back for you."

Roy held the torch in one hand and slid down the dark tunnel with the help of the other pushing him down. Around ten feet* later, he landed safely, and then his boots became wet. There were puddles under the tree, though they only covered his ankles. It was freezing, however, and Roy gasped as he shivered. No wonder Letho asked me to wear thicker clothes. This place is seven or eight degrees colder.

PR/N: Ten feet is around 3.05 meters.

When he swung his torch around, Roy noticed Cardell crouching not far ahead from him. She looked alert, and when she saw him, Cardell beckoned him in silence.

They were in a deep, musty underground space. The walls were filled with mud, algae, and vines, while the pond was littered with misshapen rocks.

Aside from the clearing in the middle, there were narrow holes around the place. A normal human would have to crawl on their hands and knees to get through the holes. Croaks and hisses rang out from the holes, echoing in the chamber. Roy wondered if the space had existed under the hornbeam all this time, or if it was created by the childhunter.

He stepped across the cold, putrid, underground puddles and regrouped with Cardell. When he scanned the holes, a frightening idea popped up. Do all the holes contain a childhunter? No, Letho wouldn't spring this kind of joke on me. He would have mentioned it in the notebook. So the monster must be in one of the holes, killing its latest prey with its puke.

Roy and Cardell looked at each other. Cardell pointed her chin at the nearest hole before pulling out a dagger that was smeared with salt from her belt. She held her torch with the other hand and dived into the hole.

Roy followed her soon after. The hole was a tunnel no deeper than two feet, and it was only narrow enough to fit one person. The moment he started crawling, his pants got wet, and the mud on the walls stuck to his shoulders, hindering his movement. They even quieted their breathing as they crept on, careful not to awaken anything unnecessary. From time to time, hisses and howls of the wind would assault them, annoying Roy. He was tense and nervous, worried that the slightest sound would invite trouble. What if it attacks from behind like this? How should we fight?

He kept looking over his shoulder in case some monster showed up behind them. It didn't take long for them to finish their crawl. At the end of the tunnel, they arrived at a dry, spherical nest, filled with branches, leaves, and bones of small animals.

The inhabitant was nowhere to be seen, but it was obvious it fed there. The nest was littered with small skulls, spines, and femurs. The bones were smaller than a full grown adult's, and they were a strange, yellow hue. The bones obviously belonged to children. Cardell picked one up, and murder shone in her eyes as she gritted her teeth. She'd had her agenda when she'd formed the school, but she treated her students the best she could.

They went through a couple more tunnels and marked them with the victims' bones at the entrances. Halfway through the fourth tunnel, they heard someone — or something — gurgle, as if vomiting. They held their breaths and shone their torches ahead, revealing a ghastly figure in the darkness.

A humanoid creature with limbs as slender as branches was lying in the corner, its body covered in mud and algae. It was spitting yellow fluid at something. The moment the torches illuminated it, the creature turned around. Its face was gaunt with nostrils that caved in, and a pair of dark holes was revealed. Its pale eyes were bloodshot, filled with rage and madness. The monster had no lips, and its gums were laid bare. Translucent fluids dripped from its teeth, as it had just vomited.

Shocked by the light from the torch, it scurried into the shadow of its nest. The pair quickly chased after it with their torches in hand, but to no avail. Roy stayed alert while Cardell pried through the vomit, eventually revealing a head with golden hair.

"Child, can you hear me?" Cardell wiped the filth off his head, revealing a gaunt, clean face, and the boy stirred.

As Roy looked at the boy, the memories in his mind unveiled themselves, and the mist cleared. He realized who he had forgotten. "Oh, I remember now! So you were the one who'd gone missing, Tom!"

It was the boy who'd said hi to him on his first day. The orphan who had a toothy, sunny grin. He'd taken extra classes with Roy after school every day, and they eventually became friends . "I had almost forgotten about you." He patted the boy's head and smiled, Roy's fear and trepidation replaced with a buoyant mood. "Good thing we came in time. How do you feel, Tom?"

Tom opened his eyes groggily, his voice weak. "Roy? Miss Cardell? W-what happened to me? L…"

"What did you say?"

"Look out!"

A ghastly figure pounced on Roy from the ceiling, and they rolled to the side, entangled with each other. They engaged in a scuffle, but the monster had the upper hand. The childhunter sat on Roy, slashing at him. Its long, slender claw gleamed menacingly under the light, targeting Roy's neck, but its advance stopped.

Roy grabbed the claw with his left hand, his veins bulging. He took a bolt smeared with salt out of thin air with his right hand, clenching and burying it deep within the monster's eye.

The childhunter let out a cry that sounded eerily like an infant's as white smoke billowed from its injured eye, and green blood trickled down its face. It escaped Roy's grip, leaping into the tunnel with tremendous strength, screaming as it did so. The childhunter squirmed in the tunnel like a catfish, disappearing from their sights in a moment.

"Get Tom out of here, Roy. I'll deal with it."

Cardell gave chase, the trail of blood her clue, her torch and dagger in hand.

"That was close. I almost died." Roy heaved a sigh.

The claw had been millimeters away from slitting his throat open. He would've died then.

"A-are you hurt?" Tom asked weakly.

"Don't worry, Tom. I'm fine." Roy wiped the sweat off his face and pulled the boy out of the sticky puke. Roy didn't understand the science behind it, but the puke looked and smelled like melted cheese. He rolled a bit of it into the size of his fist and stuffed it in his inventory space before getting out of the tunnel with Tom on his back. He didn't run into any trouble along the way, and Cardell must've led the childhunter somewhere else.

When he came back to the hole, Roy tugged at the vines as he went up and handed Tom to Vivien. She was pleasantly surprised, and Vivien covered the trembling boy in a coat. "Roy, did you — "

Roy interrupted her before she could finish. "No time to explain. The monster's not killed yet. I have to go back and help Cardell. Keep an eye on him." Roy went back before she could question him further.

He followed the trail of the blood and found them at the depths of the fifth tunnel. Cardell and the childhunter were injured. Cardell was holding her bleeding stomach with one hand while swinging the torch with the other, keeping the childhunter at bay. She was deathly pale, obviously at her limits.

The monster wasn't faring any better. It was blinded in one eye and had sustained dozens of minor injuries from Cardell's dagger, though they weren't bleeding. Apparently, the salt on the weapon wasn't enough to kill him. Roy thought about it for a moment and took out his hand crossbow.

A bolt soared through the air, hitting the monster in its knee. It trembled and almost knelt, but not before it bared its fangs at Roy, letting out a guttural growl. It was poised to strike. Roy ignored it and shot its other knee. In the span of a few moments, Roy made the childhunter lame. Even if it could regenerate, it would take time, meaning it couldn't move fast for the time being. "Quick, Miss Cardell! Stay behind me!" Roy kept shooting the monster in the legs as he retreated.

Cardell was confused about the request, but she obliged. She stayed in her defensive stance as she slowly retreated with him. The pair slowly moved toward the tunnel while the childhunter stayed in its nest, baring its fangs at the pair from twenty feet away. It swung its claws at them, threatening to rip them apart. It was like an infuriated, rabid dog, but because of the torches and weapons the pair had, it didn't advance.

When the pair had gotten thirty feet away from the monster, Roy took out a green, glass container and hurled it through the air, and it smashed into the childhunter.

Once the container was smashed into pieces, the whole tunnel rumbled, and the nest exploded into a great flower of flames, dancing along the sphere. It was as if the air itself had lit up, and the temperature rose by a few centigrades.

The monster in the middle became a human-sized torch. Bright, hot flames licked it, and it screamed in pain. The beast tried to inch closer to the pair, but its legs were injured, failing it. Dancing Star was a powerful bomb. Even its sparks could quickly light up the branches around it.

The flames spread quickly, lighting up the whole nest a short while later. The childhunter wandered its nest for two minutes before collapsing to the ground, its strength disappearing. In the end, it became nothing more than a handful of ash.

'Childhunter killed. One hundred EXP gained.'

Roy heaved a sigh of relief after getting back to the tree hole.

"We have to take the poor children's remains with us, and fast!"

Chapter 42

The moon shone on four incomplete skeletons lying in the yard. Most of them were slender and coated in a yellowish substance. Miss Cardell had a bandage wrapped around her waist, her face pale from the blood loss. She looked at the skeletons a few times with a confused expression. "We killed the monster, so why can't I remember them? I can't remember their names. Only Tom's."

"The notebook didn't mention it." Roy pursed his lips. "But I think the memory erasure can't be reversed, not even after the monster's death. The traces can only be fixed if the would-be victim is still alive, like Tom." The pentagram on Roy's sleeve had fixed itself.

Cardell shook her head, unhappy about the results.

"At least we saved Tom," Roy said. "And the children will never be harmed by the monster again."

Something bizarre had happened after they'd taken out the skeletons. An hour after that, the hole on the hornbeam had closed, and when Roy sprinkled salt on it, he couldn't summon the hole anymore. It was as if the hornbeam lost all its magic.

Roy had a feeling the space the childhunter lived in didn't exist in the tree, but was instead another dimension. The power needed to maintain it slowly dissipated after its death, making it impossible to find. Roy wanted to go back and cut off the monster's tongue. Auckes said it's valuable. Well, no chance for that now.

"Did you find anything?" Vivien came out from the house, looking fatigued and crestfallen. The brother she'd been searching for during the last two years was dead, and she couldn't even remember him. All the work she'd done looked to have been in vain. "Can you identify them?"

"I don't think so. The memory erasure is irreversible." When Roy noticed the despondent look Vivien was giving, he consoled her. "Vivien, he's released from his pain. Perhaps he's now in prophet Lebioda's kingdom. We avenged him, and we, uh, found his bones. At least he can rest in peace now. Be at peace."

Vivien covered her face, took a deep breath, and wiped her tears away. "I guessed he'd already passed when I saw the notes. I just couldn't accept it. You're right, Roy. He must be in prophet Lebioda's kingdom now. I'll find a good spot for him to have his eternal rest."

A short while of silence later, Roy said, "Let's change the topic. How's Tom doing?"

Her eyes shone at the mention of the survivor. "He had a hot shower, and I rubbed some salve on him. Then, he went to sleep. He's lucky to have escaped with only a few scratches and a bite on the neck, and he didn't even remember the kidnap. All he remembered was he went to sleep, and when he woke up, he saw you guys and the childhunter. He'll be having nightmares for a few days, but otherwise, he's okay."

"That's great." Roy looked up at the sky. "Let's talk about everything else tomorrow. I should be going back now."

Cardell stopped him. "Wait, Roy. Where did you get the bomb used to kill the childhunter?"

Roy noticed the yearning in her eyes, and he understood that Miss Cardell was trying to get her hands on Dancing Star. "That's an alchemy bomb made by a witcher. Only those acknowledged by witchers can use it," he said, lying. "It's something my teacher gave to me so I could protect myself. I only had one. Can't use it anymore."

"Is that so?" Cardell looked disappointed.

Roy found Toya beside the pond when he came back to the watermill. She was staring at her reflection in the water, looking forlorn and lonely. Roy thought she would've been eaten if she'd been in the House of Cardell.

Roy sat beside her. "Sorry for being late."

Toya trembled, and she looked pleasantly surprised. "I-it's fine. I can understand." Her voice was trembling with excitement. "You have your job in the market. It must've been busy today too." Even though she said that, Toya was actually terrified. She was worried the last few weeks had just been her imagination. When she noticed Roy wasn't home on time that day, her fear got the better of her, and she despaired, but luckily, it was just a scare. He came back. My friend's real. Her whole body relaxed as she felt relieved.

Roy shook his head. "It wasn't because of the job. There was a bizarre incident in the House of Cardell. It's related to the topic of magic I told you about last time, and also the neglected kids. Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure."

Roy ended his meditation at four the next morning and disposed of the baldy's corpse before going to Aldersberg's marketplace. The herb booth he'd worked at for the last few weeks stood there, and he had a score to settle with the owner. But when he squeezed through the throng, he saw that the place was deserted. Neither Tross nor the booth could be found. It was nothing but a vacant spot.

Frustrated, he went to Emil for answers, but he didn't expect them to be that shocking.

"Tross? I thought he told you about it. He left Aldersberg with his family and his money after yesterday's business."

"He left with his family? He's been here for more than ten years, and he's giving it all up just like that?" Is he afraid of me? But I'm just a young man. Impossible.

Emil looked surprised. "What? He hasn't been running this business for ten years, Roy. Who told you that? He's just been here for two months or so. Not even that much longer than you've been working, but his business was booming, so I wonder why he uprooted."

Who is that guy, then? Is Tross a professional scammer? Roy pondered on the matter for a long time, but all he could remember was Tross' cunning smile, and a shiver crept up on him. Fine, he can leave if he wants to. Since he couldn't work at a nonexistent booth, he spent more time in the morning working at the poultry booth. After killing the monster under the tree, his EXP bar was 820/1000, a hundred and eighty points shy of leveling up to level 3. If he could kill more chickens, maybe he could level up in a week.

The House of Cardell was as peaceful as ever that afternoon. The children were still frolicking under the hornbeam, oblivious to the fact the lonely boy who'd been watching them at the classroom's doorstep had returned. Perhaps they never even realized that he was gone. The children who were neglected stayed neglected. Nothing had changed.

"Join them, Tom." Roy patted his head. "You managed to escape from a scary monster and claw your way back from hell. There's nothing to be scared of. You'll have to fight for it if you want more attention and friends. Looking on like a fool won't cut it. Just fight anyone who'll try to bully you." Roy shoved the surprised boy to the group of children and watched as he blushed while clumsily greeting the others.

Cardell came up to him quietly. She wasn't looking too well, and the wound from the night before would keep her down for a while. Nobody knew about the hornbeam's hole and the monster under it, for she had kept it a secret. The dead children couldn't be remembered, nor could their traces be recovered. There was no point in making the matter public, for it would invite nothing but suspicion and trouble.

"Vivien and I buried the remains in the nearby cemetery this morning." Cardell paused. "And also, Roy, since you helped the school out and found the remains of Vivien's brother, as well as the children, you have my thanks. I know how witchers work, so you'll have your reward. How does a hundred crowns sound?"

A hundred crowns wasn't enough to cover the cost of Dancing Star, but that was all the school could afford. "That won't be enough." As Roy looked at the frolicking children in the yard, something tugged at his heartstrings. "I'll exchange it for a meal."

"Then take this, Roy." Vivien came up to him quietly and took off her silver necklace. "It'll bring you luck and blessing from the gods. I just know it." She placed it around his neck and gave him a look of gratitude.

Chapter 43

One week later, Roy was sitting in the watermill's warehouse at night, his attention on his character sheet.

'Level 3 (0/1500)'

'Skill point: 1, Attribute point: 1'

If this were before, he would've allocated the attribute point to the stat he was the most proficient in — Perception. That'd raise it to seven, but he changed his way of thinking lately. Roy realized that every improvement should've been done with the Trial of the Grasses in mind.

No matter how high his Perception was, it would've been for naught if he died in the trial. And before Letho left, he'd told Roy that the disciple's will and resistance to poison would affect their chances of survival. The higher those two aspects were, the better. If Roy wanted to strengthen his will and fortify his body, he had to consider Will and Constitution. Roy's Will was 4.8, which was lower than average, while his Constitution only became average because he took a lot of herbs.

In other words, every attribute point he gained from that day on must be invested in those stats. He looked at his skills.

'Meditation Level 1: The training of the body and the soul. Meditation calms you down, speeds up healing and recovery of your mana, as well as your body. Improves coordination over time and increases affinity with chaos energy.

'Tip: Leveling up this skill improves Constitution and Spirit permanently.'

Letho was old enough to be his grandfather, but even he hadn't managed to level Meditation up to level ten. It won't be easy. But more importantly, leveling up can permanently increase my Spirit and Constitution. Roy concentrated on the plus sign after Meditation, and then the level 1 slowly faded, changing into level 2 a moment later. Then Roy added his attribute point to Will.

One moment later, he felt a wave of warmth surging through his body, activating every inch of his skin, muscles, bones, and even blood vessels. It felt like they were absorbing something, becoming sturdier and stronger.

His brain, the most mysterious part of him, was rejuvenated, enveloped by a cool feeling. He felt countless little hands caressing it, and every cell vibrated with excitement. He opened his eyes, and they looked like a galaxy, though it lasted only for a moment.

'Meditation Level 1 → Level 2

'Spirit: 6 → 6.5

'Constitution: 5 → 5.5

'Will: 4.8 → 5.8.'

After experiencing the two-point increase in his stats, Roy thought he was already superhuman. The modification was still going on, and when he stood up to crack his joints, his whole body crackled. An electrifying sensation moved across him, upsetting Roy.

Roy's face was scarlet, and his overexcitement filled him with courage and confidence. For a moment, he felt like he could run for a whole day and night without tiring, and he could face any challenge head on.

He took a deep breath, clenching his fists and loosening them, trying to calm himself down. Then he meditated on the haystack until he did. Normally, it would've taken years of training for someone to increase their stats by one point, but he increased by two points in a few minutes, so it was normal for him to feel uncomfortable.

His change made him think about the Trial of the Grasses. The trial would modify and increase his physical capabilities to a far greater degree, perhaps to an incomprehensible level. The change would bring extreme discomfort and pain, which was the reason not many survived the trial.

A soft moan could be heard from the haystack at the other end of the storehouse.

"You're awake, Toya. How do you feel?" Roy sat beside her and slid his hand under the blanket to check the girl's temperature. "Your temperature's normal. So the bryonia worked." He heaved a sigh of relief.

"W-what happened to me, Roy?" Toya was still in her apron, though she looked listless, her eyes' gleam lost, her lips pale. It seemed like she'd just healed from a terrible sickness.

"You blacked out when you were sweeping the floor, and then you contracted a fever," Roy explained patiently. "Hank and Mana sent you here after they found out what happened. Don't worry though. I gave you some herbs, and the fever's gone."

"I see." Toya pushed herself up and had some water with Roy's help. "I'm sorry to trouble you again," she said in a thankful manner. "It must have been tiring, taking care of me. Why don't you take a rest?"

Roy shook his head and stared into her eyes. "We're friends, Toya, so tell me the truth. This isn't the first time it's happened, right?"

Toya squatted on the haystack, her hand gripping her knees, and she buried her chin in them. Fear and confusion showed on her face, and her voice trembled. "I have no idea what's wrong with me. I seem to have a lot of illnesses. Aside from the hunchback which everyone's been laughing at, I black out, have fevers, and mumble gibberish. Even my own father shies away from me in disgust." She then mumbled, "Roy, am I just a burden?"

"Of course not, Toya," Roy answered honestly. "It has been great getting along with you. You're a good listener, and you're a smart, hardworking lady. But you're trapped in a little watermill, surrounded by shallow, narrow-minded people, so that's why you didn't manage to make many friends. And that's why you were led to this wrong way of thinking."

"Really?" The girl's eyes shone for a bit after hearing that.

Roy nodded. "Of course. How do you feel right now? I want to know more about your sickness."

"Sure." She took a deep breath. "Ask away."

"When did you start blacking out? Is it getting more frequent?"

"Hm." A frown creased her forehead as she thought about the question. "If you're talking about the first time, it was probably not long after my body started becoming deformed, and I blacked out once a year since then. But recently, I would faint about four or five times a year." She paused for a moment to feel sorry for herself. "I have the feeling I might just faint and never wake up again one day, but if this is what Melitele has in mind for me, then I shall accept it. Having painless, eternal rest is fine too."

"Toya, you're still young, and your life is filled with possibilities," Roy said, consoling her. "Think harder. Are the occurrences happening around specific times during the year? Like Saovine, Lammas, Birke, and the such?"

"The last time this happened was on the day of Lammas, and it happened around Belleteyn before that." Toya gasped. "You're right, Roy."

"So my guess is on point. The closer we get to the magical dates, the more your magical energy resonates with the world, going out of control and harming your body." Roy sighed, and he cast her a look of pity. After he cast Observe on her, he noticed that Toya's Constitution had fallen from 3 to 2.8. Her life force is weakening.

"What's a magical date?" Toya was curious, but also fearful. "And why do I have mana?"

"Patience, Toya. I will tell you everything," Roy said. "Do you remember Aretuza on Thanedd Island, the one I told you about?"

"I remember everything you told me," she said. "That's a place where they train sorceresses, right?" She took out the Gwent card Roy had given her — the one that had an illustration of a fiery-haired woman in a red dress, and her eyes gleamed. "Sorceresses like Sabrina Glevissig can cast powerful magic. They're more fantastic than your tricks."

"Yes." Roy took a deep breath. "But you know, most sorceresses weren't as gorgeous as the cards illustrated them to be when they were younger." 𝙗𝒆𝙙𝙣𝒐𝙫𝙚𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝒎

Toya held her breath, her expression freezing. She had a strong feeling that Roy would say something that would scare her.

"Most of them started out looking like you." Roy organized his words and slowed down. "They were different from everyone else because of the rampant mana in their bodies, but once they started training in those schools, they eventually returned to normal."

Roy's teachings over the last few weeks had unveiled a part of the world's mysteries to the girl, and she would accept things easier then. "S-so you're saying…" Toya's teeth chattered, and a crazy idea formed in her mind, suffocating her. "I-I…"

"Yes, the eight magical dates are when mana runs rampant around the world. The mana in your body resonates with them, so you'd faint whenever the festivals drew nearer." He said solemnly, "In other words, you have the talent to become a sorceress if you can get into Aretuza, and as far as I'm concerned, they take any girl from any corner of the world indiscriminately. But you'll have to be bound under a hard contract."

"I can be just like her?" Toya gripped the card tightly, her fingers turning pale. "Will I return to normal? And nobody will laugh at me anymore?"

"If you can become a sorceress and get modified by mana, of course you can go back to normal."

Toya suddenly sobbed, and she leaned against the moldy wall, despondent. Tears streamed down her pale face, her expression complex. She looked sad, but also happy at the same time. "You're lying, Roy." Toya couldn't believe it. "You're my friend, so don't lie."

"I swear, it's the truth," Roy promised. "I'm not lying. Just giving you another choice."

"No!" Toya was wavering, but she shook her head. "I'm just a country girl who's never left the mill, and I can't go anywhere. Hank and Mana wouldn't let me go. Besides, you said Aretuza is thousands of miles away from Aldersberg. I can't get there, not in forever."

Roy was silent, for Toya was telling the truth. Most sorceresses' parents would refuse to send them to a school for sorceresses, for joining institutions like that meant cutting ties with their family. It brought no benefit to the parents, and most of them were greedy. They'd rather force their daughters to be free labor until the day of their death.

"I'll find a way, Toya." Stopping halfway through a plan wasn't Roy's style. He had a rough plan for a solution that had just popped into his mind a short while ago. "I have to be honest, Toya. Every time you faint, your body's getting more corrupted by the mana, and it hurts you even more. I think you can feel that, can't you? Your body's weakening, and if you can't receive formal magical education in time…" Roy licked his dry lips. "I'm not sure you can live past twenty. Don't you want to see the outside world?"

In the era of ignorance, a deformed country girl would spend her short life in agony, but Roy thought Toya should have a chance. Since he had an idea, he would form a plan and go through with it. That was his creed. Besides, giving Toya a choice might mean another option for him in the future.

Toya was trembling, perhaps from fear or excitement. "Roy, you aren't just some normal human, are you? How do you know so many things, and why are you telling me?"

"My identity has no bearing on the matter. What would you do if you were in the same position as me? Would you help me?" Roy asked, and he found his answer in Toya's eyes. She wanted freedom. He held her calloused hand firmly. "Friends should help each other. Just wait, Toya. You'll see the sunrise at Aretuza one day, I promise."

Chapter 44

It was impossible for Roy to take Toya with him to Cintra and then Aretuza. It was unrealistic, and Letho wouldn't agree to bring more deadweight with him on the way to the trial. I need help from someone else.

The only powerful people he knew in Aldersberg were Seville Hoger, the wine dealer, and Cardell, the principal of the House of Cardell, as well as a member of the revolution. If he wanted to send Toya to Aretuza, which was a thousand mile away, they were his only hope.

The sun shone brightly that day. Seville was enjoying the sun on his recliner in his residence. It had almost been a month since the 'exorcism,' and life had been well since then. His circles were almost gone, he'd gained more weight, and his hair and beard were looking slick.

"Been a while, Roy. You've been living well in Aldersberg." Seville beckoned a freckled, bearded maid who came with a bottle of honeyed wine. She filled the glasses and left quickly. "You seem taller and stronger now, though you still don't have a beard. Ah, but you're a lot more manly now. Been having dwarven liquor every day?"

Roy was sitting on the cane chair beside Seville. He sipped the honeyed wine, and the sweet taste spread gently within his mouth. He replied, "Of course, Mr. Seville. Dwarven liquor is on a whole other level compared to the fake, crude wine. How are you doing? Are the nightmares still haunting you after the hym was destroyed?"

"The nightmares are gone, thanks to you and Letho." He roared in laughter. "Now I'm once again the strong and lively squirrel of Mahakam." He clumsily turned around and held his chin with one hand while looking at Roy. "But I think about my poor friend, Ken, at night sometimes. He's still in the barrel, and then there goes my appetite." He paused, then Seville hinted something at him. "I wonder when Ken's body will be returned to its rightful place. He needs to rest in peace. Oh, right, Roy. I didn't see Letho today."

"He's out for business. Still hasn't come back." Roy asked, "Why don't I help you settle the matter, Mr. Seville?"

"Roy, if I'm guessing this right…" Seville rubbed his beard, his gaze doubtful. "You're saying you'd hand Ken's body back to the revolutionists alone, and nobody would see you?"

"Yes, Mr. Seville." Roy's eyes gleamed, but he didn't panic, looking reassured. "Will you let me handle this?"

Half an hour later, a pale man's body lay on the ground, his eyes closed, his limbs twisted in unnatural angles. At the same time, the strong scent of alcohol and the faint stench of the body assailed Roy. His eyes widened, and he stared unblinkingly at the famous man, the leader of the revolutionists — Vernon Ryan. He was also Ken, Seville's brother, the thinker who never drank a drop of wine, but died because of it.

The body was wearing a grey shirt that was standard to peasants and people who did manual labor, as well as a pair of tight, black pants. His limbs were slender, and so was his body. His ears were pointed at the tips, his nose was hooked, and his lower jawline was sharp. The cheekbones that jutted out spoke of his elven bloodline.

There was a hint of terror on his face, perhaps from the fear he felt before his death. His arms were limp by his sides. It was as if he'd tried to grab onto something, but had failed. The body was wrinkled from being soaked for so long, and disgusting patches were seen on his torso. It was just like a specimen that had been soaked in formalin, like they did in his past life. No, this one's creepier, and I'm here to witness it.

Seville looked pained, but also melancholic, and he covered his nose. "I've taken him out as you asked, Roy. What will you do next? Smuggling him out at night is impossible. I heard the revolutionists are going for a second march before Saovine, and the baron's men are watching us."

"Want to see a trick, Mr. Seville?" Roy went up to the body and observed the limbs. He tugged at the body's pants and noticed a peculiar tattoo on the right heel. It was in the shape of a handful of thick, curled fur. Wait, that's a squirrel's tail. He frowned, then had a guess, but he didn't tell the dwarf. Instead, he touched the body, and Vernon Ryan was nowhere to be found. 𝗯𝐞𝗱𝐧𝗼𝐯𝐞𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"What?" Seville's jaw dropped. "How did you do it, Roy? Are you a sorcerer on top of a witcher's disciple? Do you know how to cast teleportation spells?"

"This is a secret. I'll need you to keep this a secret for me, Mr. Seville," Roy requested.

"Very well then. Dwarves are very respectful of our friends' secrets," Seville assured. "And please take this as my token of apology. I shouldn't have doubted you. The baron's lackeys couldn't imagine you to possess this skill. So, will the reward be the same as how we've negotiated?"

"Why don't we leave it until after I've finished the request?"

"No problem," Seville answered. "You'll be my buddy if you finish this. And I always treat my buddies well."

It had been harrowing for Cardell over the last few days. Her stomach was heavily injured in the fight against the childhunter, and it was still throbbing. Then the revolutionists brought bad news. The second march wasn't going too well. The baron's bloody counter scared off the opportunists who were weak in their conviction. Even though it was nearly the day of the march, they only managed to rally fifty people. With that amount of people, they would only be seen as a joke.

Cardell sighed. It'd be great if everyone was like Roy. He's smart, brave, knows how to fight, and isn't afraid of monsters. It's a pity he's a witcher's disciple. He's not going to stay long. Cardell went back to her office, feeling crestfallen, but the moment she went in, the strong smell of alcohol wafted across her. She frowned, but still she followed the trace to her desk. And then her eyes widened in horror.

There was a body under her table. The face was bloated and pale, but she would recognize it even if it turned to ash, and she felt her soul leave her. "The great leader and my mentor, Vernon, is dead?"

Roy was in the yard, caressing the hornbeam. He saw Cardell going into her office, then she came out with a letter, looking furious, and he sighed. "I didn't want to scare you, but you're the only revolutionist I know. I'm sorry. Take it as the meal you owe me."

"So the House of Cardell's principal is the revolutionists' top brass." Seville nodded in approval after listening to the report. "My sources had known that something was wrong with the school, and I had my own suspicions, but there was no evidence. Good work, Roy. The baron's lackeys didn't notice you, and my friend, Ken, is finally back to the place he wanted."

Seville extended his hand and said, "A promise is a promise. I told you you were my buddy if you settled this matter for me. No need to be formal, Roy. What do you need? Money, wine, or weapons?" Seville knew Roy must've had something to ask from him the moment he took the request. "Or do you need my help? I'll do it if I can."

Roy hadn't expected the request they'd set aside when they'd come to Aldersberg to help him to this extent. He hadn't gone through much for it, since it'd just been a delivery request. "Mr. Seville — "

"Call me Seville, Roy. It'd be rude if you kept the honorific."

"Oh, um… Seville," Roy said, correcting himself, though he couldn't imagine being buddies with a septuagenarian. Formalities, I guess. "Do you know any sorcerers? Someone who lives near Aldersberg, and it'd be best if they were a sorceress from Aretuza."

Seville pinched his beard and gave it some thought. "Sorry, Roy. As far as I'm concerned, no sorcerer lives near Aldersberg. There's a black-haired one in Vengerberg, but that's too far away. Why are you looking for one though?" he asked. "If you trust me, why don't you spill the beans? Maybe there's another way to settle this. I don't mean to brag, but I call some shots in this city."

Roy thought about it and told him about Toya. Nothing to lose here.

Seville had a weird look on his face once he was done listening, and he looked at Roy as if he were an exotic animal. "Roy, if I'm correct, you're a witcher's disciple, and you're going to be a witcher. Why are you helping an ugly country girl by sending her to Aretuza? She might not even remember you after her training. Just because you pity her?"

He told Seville what he thought. "Don't you think witchers and sorcerers are alike, Seville? They have a tragic childhood and are forced to make choices they don't want. I think she should have a chance to choose, and I hope someone will give me a chance if I somehow get into a compromising position someday."

Seville felt something stir within him after hearing the story. He thought that Roy was interesting, though he wasn't as handsome as a dwarf, and he laughed. "You're an interesting guy, Roy. Most witchers I know wouldn't interfere, but you did. I'll help you because of the things you said alone. I'll send a carriage and some dwarves to escort the girl to Thanedd Island. She should have a chance to choose, just like what you said. But whether she can get into Aretuza, well, that depends on her own effort and luck."

"But it'll have to wait for a few days." Seville stood on his tiptoes and grabbed Roy's shoulder. "It's nearly Saovine, and I think the coachman has a right to celebrate it. I hope the revolutionists can stop though. I wonder if they'll pull something crazy, since they did receive their leader's body out of nowhere."

"I left a letter for Miss Cardell too," Roy answered. "It's a threat letter written a la Sparrow Triad. She might not be fooled, but at least it'll distract the revolutionists from blindly protesting against the baron. That way, they might not be used for any scheme."

Chapter 45

It was the sixth of November in the year 1260. Roy was wearing a yellow wool coat, sitting on the edge of Walls Inn's rooftop, legs dangling, and he held a portrait. The portrait depicted Roy and Toya, both smiling. During Saovine, he took Toya to Seville's residence behind her parents' back and enjoyed a sumptuous Saovine feast.

He could still remember it vividly. He and Toya had had their fill of honeyed wine, messed up the songs they sang, and posed for a second-rate artist. Then they surrounded the bonfire in the yard, held hands with the bearded dwarves, and danced Mahakam's specialty dance the whole night. When the next morning came, Toya woke up from her first hangover and was sent to the carriage heading for Aretuza.

"How should I contact you once I get there, Roy?" Toya stuck her head out of the carriage window before she left. She held his arm, tears welling up in her eyes, and they were filled with excitement, unease, and longing.

"Witchers don't have a stable home." Roy patted her head and joked, "I'll visit you in Aretuza after a few years. Hope you can show me some real magic then."

"It's a promise then." Toya's voice had a hint of mischief. "If you haven't come after I've returned to normal, I'm hunting you down no matter where you go."

Roy kept the portrait in his inventory space and held the necklace hanging around his neck. He had completed his education in the House of Cardell not long ago and said his goodbyes to Vivien, Tom, and Cardell. I wonder what Cardell did. The revolutionists have been really quiet these days. Maybe they're shocked by their leader's death.

It was a peaceful Saovine in Aldersberg. There were no marches or gang fights. Roy stopped renting his room. He didn't leave anything for Hank and Mana even after taking their daughter away. It was their punishment for abusing her. They can try hunting me down if they want. If they can find where I am, that is. He didn't plan to continue working in the marketplace, and his education was done for the time being. The words he could read were enough to understand the witcher's notes. He was going to start reading through the recipe formulas. When he hopped off the rooftop, entering the lobby, a familiar feeling welled up within him.

Saovine was over, but the party in the inn wasn't. A bard was leaning against the wall, wearing tight fitting clothes and leather shoes. He was playing his lute to a beautiful tune. A group of burly men were holding their foaming beers and moved to the music on the dance floor. Many women in bustiers and heavy makeup were going through the merry inn, revealing their skin, lifting their fluffy dresses, and flirting back with the men as they beckoned them.

The inn was merry, but someone stuck out like a sore thumb in the corner. The table for four was filled with glasses of colorful wine, but he was the only one drinking. Letho's bald head and stern look made him look dark, and the sword hanging on his muscular back warned everyone to stay away. 𝐛𝐞𝗱𝗻𝐨𝐯𝗲𝗹.𝐜𝐨𝐦

A woman chuckled and approached him. "Alone? I can be your partner."

Letho looked at her, and her familiar smile warmed him up a bit. "Sorry, but I'm not in the mood today. Next time."

"How cruel. It's only been a month, but you're already acting this cold. I can still remember how strong you were. Oh, your arm is tense. Just relax and let me handle everything." The woman beamed and leaned against his shoulder, then she craned her neck. She noticed the dried blood on his armor that still had a stench, but she wasn't surprised, as witchers were like that.

When she looked down, she saw a big package that was bursting at the seams laying on the ground at the witcher's right. She could see something red bleeding through the blue package, and she asked, "What is that?" She tried to take the package, but halfway through, Letho's muscular hand grabbed her arm.

"Keep your curiosity in check, woman. Stay out of things in which you shouldn't butt in," Letho said calmly, but the dangerous gleam in his eyes shocked the woman. She trembled and got up carefully.

The woman pursed her lips and glared at him. "I see. So all you want from me is my body, huh? Well, don't ask for me next time then. Hmph!" She then went to the dance floor and flirted with the other men.

Letho was't frustrated. Women were just things to spice up his life, nothing more. And then he felt something, so he looked across the dance floor and met Roy's gaze. "Has it been a year since we met? You grow fast." The witcher looked at the boy who came up to him and steepled his hand under his chin. His sharp senses were telling him that the boy had undergone a great change. He'd started out as a scrawny one, but he'd changed to become more lean, lively. His eyes were shining, his complexion healthy, and he looked better than he was.

Most people would have to work endlessly for six months to a year for them to change so much, but it hadn't been two months since Roy had left Kaer.

"Two years, actually. So that makes it one month and two years?" Roy sat beside Letho and sipped some fruit wine. "So, I've been living on my own here for a long time. Have I passed your test?"

The witcher nodded. "You did well on your own."

Roy looked at the package the woman was curious about, and he sniffed the air. "You left me here for a month just for this?"

Letho felt like testing him. "Guess what's inside."

"Even though you've cleaned it and removed most of the smell, that stench can't fool me. It's, hmm, a monster's innards, isn't it?"

Letho tossed the package to him, and Roy scrambled to open it. He almost threw it away. The first thing he saw was an eyeball the size of a fist, and it had been wiped clean. When he touched the back of the eyeball, he could feel the nerves and blood vessels that were still red.

Roy looked around and stuffed the eyeball back when nobody was watching, and then he took out a yellow paw from the bag. The underside had pads like those of feline creatures. Three sharp fangs protruded in the front, looking like black scythes. It was hard and was about the length of an extended hand of a human.

Roy imagined how easily the claw could rip through a human's armor and disembowel the wearer. Aside from the eyeball and claw, there was also an elliptical heart in there, a long beak with the fur removed, and a bloody head.

"A griffin." The package was filled with the most valuable parts of a griffin. He murmured, "You spent a month killing a griffin to prepare the decoction for me?" He was touched that Letho went to kill a griffin alone.

Griffins were proud creatures. They were hard to hunt, had a superb sense of smell, a powerful body, claws and beak that were as hard as steel, and had no obvious weakness. It would be a deadly creature for any witcher. Roy also regretted the fact he didn't take part in it. It would've been a great experience to watch the fight at close quarters.

"Are you hurt?"

Letho shook his head. "Some problems arose, but it ended well. Come. I'll teach you the way to dismember it, and I'll check on your progress."

Chapter 46

Letho reserved a room and put down his luggage before handling the griffin's parts. Then he asked Roy about the events in Aldersberg, and the boy told him about the childhunter under the hornbeam in the House of Cardell.

"That was some good luck. Childhunter's on par with a drowner in terms of battle power and danger. It's perfect for training newbies like you," Letho said. "As long as you dodge its fangs and claws, using fire and salt should kill it easily. Using Dancing Star was a bit of a waste, but since you lived and it died, it was worth it. Good job with the House of Cardell's case, boy," Letho said, praising sincerely. He wasn't talking about Roy's performance in battle, but his performance during the investigation. A witcher who knew how to think would outlive those who only resorted to violence.

And then Roy showed the yellow vomit he took by chance to Letho. Letho analyzed it thoroughly and nodded. "Childhunters are rare, and of all the witchers I know, only Auckes and Serrit managed to kill one fifty years ago, but regrettably, they didn't manage to retrieve enough fresh vomit." He frowned. "I'm not sure about its composition, but I felt my mana flow being blocked when I held it. I couldn't even cast any signs. It's not enough for the separation effect to take place, but at least it has the effect of dimeritium. It can counter spellcasters and monsters that rely on magic to a degree. Maybe some sorcerers would buy it at a high price. Keep it well, since it's your spoil." He handed it back to Roy. "Keep it in a bottle for best effects. It degrades if not fresh."

Roy's eyes gleamed, but at the same time, he regretted not taking all the vomit with him. He didn't need to keep it in his bottle though, for he had a better way of preserving it — his inventory space. They chatted for a while, then Letho took him to a vacant plot outside the city to check on his crossbow training and herb knowledge.

Roy had unlocked Crossbow Mastery Level 1 and trained every night. He was perfect in terms of shooting position, aiming accuracy, and reaction speed, though it was relative to his short training period. Naturally, the witcher was satisfied. Even after getting the herb knowledge imprinted in his mind by the witcher, and knowing more than fifty herbs along the way, Roy had seen more herbs when he was working for the scammer, Tross. He came into contact with common ones like buckthorn, marigold, belladonna, and mandrake every day, and he even saw rare herbs like beggarticks' flowers, bloodmoss, and paris. 𝚋𝚎ｄｎｏｖ𝚎𝚕．𝚌ｏｍ

Right now, Roy could discern more than eighty herbs in terms of habitat, effect, and appearance. Letho had nothing to add to that anymore. Since Roy's theoretical knowledge was enough, it was time for his practical lessons.

"You spent most of the month learning common speech, yes?" Letho rubbed his bald head. "Yeah, I forgot about that, my bad. Since you haven't looked into the potions in the notebook, I can teach you. Since I've depleted my potions and bombs, it's time to replenish the stock. Oh, and there's the decoction for the trial. It's a troublesome one, so I'll need your help."

Potion making was a branch of alchemy. The potions, decoctions, oils, and bombs made through alchemy needed mana to keep them under control. Some of them could only be used by witchers, while potions could be created and used by most people. In the game, alchemy was just a simple matter of collecting materials and pressing a button, and then the item would show up in the player's inventory space. But there was no such thing in this world.

Alchemy was an extremely complex skill to master, and the same applied to potion making. For potions, the maker had to possess the skills, tools, and correct materials. The materials were categorized as either base, main, support, or neutralizer. The tools and apparatus to make potions were even more complex, and together, they were called the alchemy workstation.

Letho spent the day buying herbs and bottles, and then he rented a room and modified it into an alchemy lab. Roy was stupefied when he went into the room. This is just a kitchen! The first thing he saw was the stove powered by a blower in the middle, and a cauldron sat on it. A mortar, bowl, plate, and gooseneck distiller propped on a mini stove were placed before the cauldron. A clock was hanging on the right, used to see how long the herbs had been brewed for, and beside the clock sat dried herbs that were needed for potion making.

The second layer of the rack on the right had a pestle on it, used to crush the herbs in the mortar. On the left, beyond the blower, pots filled with dwarven liquor, water, oil, and other fluids were placed on the topmost rack. They were used as the base for different potions. The second layer held the containers for the potions, and they came in various sizes.

"It's, um, different from what I had expected," Roy said.

"What do you mean different? Have you seen a different workstation before?" Letho asked.

"I just think it's a bit too crude. Does the school use this kind of workstation too?" Roy couldn't believe that the tools would be so basic. It felt more like a workshop that made illegal substances rather than potions. In his imagination, alchemy was related to chemistry, and he thought they must've at least had test tubes, alcohol burners, and retort stands.

"You're unhappy with this?" Letho was surprised, and he wondered why Roy was so upset, but he explained patiently. "The tools in the school are of course better and prettier, but you have to understand that we have limited resources here. Having a basic workstation is already hard enough. Of course, it'd be a different story if a sorcerer would lend us his lab. Those guys are perfectionists and want nothing but the best for everything, so they'd have the best equipment lying around." Letho continued. "But this here is enough for a beginner like you." Then he knocked Roy's head and lectured, "Now concentrate. I'll show you the way to make a marigold potion, the simplest one there is. Only once, though."

Roy massaged his forehead and concentrated on the process.

Letho first took a bag of marigold and nettle, and then he put them on the workstation on the right to balance them on the scale. Next, he placed and crushed them in the mortar with the pestle before handing a sample to Roy. The crushing process was a delicate one. Insufficient strength would make the potion less potent, but too much strength would cause a higher chance of overbrewing, thus causing them to fail to create the potion. The only way to gauge the strength needed under such conditions was none other than through experience.

Once Roy had seen enough, Letho filled a quarter of the cauldron with water, an ounce of crushed nettle, and two ounces of crushed marigold. Then he stirred the mixture with a ladle, and the liquid turned light yellow. Letho used the blower to light up the flames under the cauldron. At the same time, he looked at the clock, waiting quietly.

Roy took the chance to ask about the amount of the main materials used in the making of the marigold potion, as well as the base. Letho explained patiently, and he observed Roy's mastery of alchemy's theoretical knowledge and herbs through questioning.

The potion hadn't started boiling after fifteen minutes, and a faint, fresh scent wafted from the cauldron. Letho doused the fire and held the cauldron by its handle, and then poured the potion into a translucent bottle. Despite his muscular figure, Letho surprisingly handled the potion with great care, not even spilling a drop. It might've sounded weird, but it was like seeing Letho knit a sweater with perfect mastery of the needle. Letho corked the bottle at the end.

Roy boiled down the whole process into a few parts: add water and the materials to the cauldron, pull on the blower, cook it until it forms a slurry, then kill the heat. A funny idea popped into his mind. If he were standing behind Letho, he would've thought him a chef cooking something up.

"You can rub this potion on your wounds or ingest it. Helps with regeneration and prevention of infection. Better than plain eating the plant." Letho shook the bottle, looking satisfied. "You have to master this. It's the basic among the basics, and one of the most useful potions around. You aren't strong enough to take Swallow and such."

This is more like a medicinal brew than a potion, Roy thought, and he looked at Letho expectantly. "How potent is it?"

"You'll know once you take it after sustaining an injury," Letho said. "Probably halves the recovery time if your wounds aren't that serious."

"Can I try?"

Letho stepped aside, giving the stage to Roy. Roy rolled his sleeve up and took a bag of marigold and nettle. Then he reproduced the process by memory. First he weighed and ground them into powder. He thought it'd be easy since he'd memorized the process, but a problem arose the moment he started. Weighing alone took a lot out of him, and he was considerably slower than the witcher.

When he finally finished weighing and went on to the crushing, he ran into another problem. How fine should I make it? Hm, a bit larger than what mills make? As he crushed the materials, he glanced at Letho, trying to get a hint, but Letho was prepared. He raised his chin at Roy, telling him to continue.

Roy sighed. No point in thinking too much. He let go and went with his instincts. He poured the water from the pot for ten seconds and stopped when it filled about a quarter of the cauldron. He kept the heat low, and the blower only blew on the flames three times. Fifteen minutes later, the potion was done, but it was much darker in color, and it radiated a sharp, pungent smell.

Roy looked tense. Letho's potion was light yellow and smelled nice. What the heck is this? He wasn't let down though. It was normal to fail the first time.

He went on with the bottling, but his middle finger was placed incorrectly and was scalded by the cauldron. The potion splashed everywhere, but he ignored it and poured the remaining liquid into the bottle. He shook it once and corked it before placing it on the workstation.

"You call this a marigold potion? The thing that can stop bleeding and prevent inflammation?" Letho took and observed the potion, his face inscrutable. When he opened it to take a whiff, his face twitched. "The only thing this thing can do is ease bowel movements. Fail. Again!"

Chapter 47

Under the dim light, a black-haired youth stood before a workshop, his hands deftly moving between the bags of herbs, scale, pestle, cauldron, and blower. He added two ounces of dried marigold and an ounce of nettle into the mortar and crushed them with half his strength, stirring them at the same time. He did it twice in one second, and he had to do it a thousand times.

Then the cauldron was a quarter filled with water before the crushed materials were added, and then the brewing started. It wasn't difficult, but his movements were precise, calculated, and clean, as if he had an invisible ruler gauging everything he did. Fifteen minutes later, he killed the heat and held the cauldron by the handle. He swirled it around and poured the hot fluid into a bottle. No longer was he impatient, but instead swift and patient.

When he took the potion and recognized the scent of chrysanthemum, he carefully handed it to Letho, who was nearby and looking at him with his arms crossed. "Here, Letho. What do you think?"

Letho took a whiff and dipped his finger into the potion, then he put it in his mouth and closed his eyes to better feel it. Roy wiped the sweat off his forehead, clenching his fists, looking nervous, just like a criminal waiting for his verdict.

"Congratulations, boy."

Roy heaved a sigh of relief. He opened his arms and spun, almost crying tears of happiness. God knew how the last three days had been. Aside from his regular training, he'd had to start brewing potions the moment he woke up and had to go into meditation when he was resting.

Alchemy's emphasis on details was no joke, and it was much harder and much more boring than crossbow training. Roy wasn't interested in precision in both lives, but Letho paid a lot of importance to alchemy, and he was strict on Roy. Damn, I wish I could have a skill that lets me make potions instantly.

"It's worse than most village herbalists', but it's effect is the real deal," Letho said. "All that's left is to practice. Make thousands of them, and you'll eventually improve."

"Oh, right, Letho. Since marigold potions are better at treating wounds than normal herbs, why don't we sell it?" Roy asked. "Will it sell?"

Letho shook his head. "If you thought of that, everyone would've too. The civilians would think it was too pricey, so they'd rather buy the herbs. It's cheaper and sufficient for their daily use. The rich ones don't need it. They have famous doctors treating them in private. Healthcare involves a lot of things no matter the city. Lots of connections and power play in it. Sell it on the streets, sure. You might get lucky and sell some, but then someone will rat on you, and off to the dungeon you go. You ain't having anything else but mice for a month. Forget that idea. Potions are best used for yourself."

Roy thought that was a shame. I can make money if I try to use some of my connections, but that's going to waste too much time. I could have been a businessman instead.

"This potion can be preserved for a month or so if done right. Continue," Letho urged. "Make about five potions, and that'll be enough for the trip.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye. Under Letho's watchful gaze, Roy made a few dozen attempts and managed to make around five usable potions, albeit all of different quality. He was seeing a slow improvement in his alchemy skills. Roy had made one usable potion for every ten attempts at first, but then he could make one for every nine attempts. Letho could make eight usable ones for every nine attempts. 𝒃𝒆𝙙𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝙤𝙢

That was understandable though, since it had just been days since he started making potions, so it was incomparable to the decade of experience the witcher had, and he hadn't actually started on the path of alchemy, since the skill hadn't even shown up in the character sheet. This is going to be a long journey. And with that, Roy's alchemy practical lessons ended for the time being.

Letho took over the workstation to create decoctions, bombs, and the potion for the trial for Roy. Roy didn't just stand by either; he helped with the first few steps.

"Five ounces of dried celandine and an ounce of drowner brain ground into powder. Remember what I've told you." Letho sent order after order, his face inscrutable, and his hands moved quickly between the tools. His large figure was a stark contrast to his dexterous limbs working on the tools. The witcher looked more like an oil painter creating his opus, while Roy was like a wind-up puppet who was working all day in a dark alchemy lab.

Most people would've been dizzy at that point, but thanks to his high Will stat, Roy could stay concentrated for a long time without feeling any fatigue. After taking part in the brewing, he understood the difference between potion and decoction.

Take Swallow — the most common potion witchers used — as an example. The only materials were celandine and drowner brain, but the steps involved were: drying the ingredients, crushing them, heating, distilling, heating again, and more. There were a total of a few dozen steps, and every one of them had to be done precisely. One wrong move or shaking fingers would end up creating a flawed potion.

The most important part came after filling the bottle with the potion. The witcher would hold it with both hands and go into meditation. When that happened, Roy could feel Letho communicating with the decoction, though it was purely magical. Letho was trying to calm the decoction and stabilize it. If that wasn't done, the decoction would just be a half-finished product.

Roy was engrossed with alchemy, and he didn't notice the time pass. He could still help with the early preparations for Swallow, but the oils, bombs, and more advanced potions confused him, turning his brain to mush. There were too many steps, and all of them were too complex for him. It wasn't something someone of his level could understand, so he stopped thinking and only followed the witcher's orders.

Even though all he learned was the making of the marigold potion, he got more proficient with the tools as he helped the witcher. It would act as the foundation of his future studies. A long time later — perhaps a week — Letho made two Swallows, two dimeritium bombs, and a lot of potions. And then he suddenly said Roy could leave the lab to have an off day.

Roy heaved a sigh after being relieved from the intense, pressing work environment, but the next day, Letho took out a particular bottle from a row of potions. "This is the potion I made for you." Letho looked into Roy's eyes and said slowly, "Regular intake will slowly increase your resistance to potions' toxicity. It builds your foundation before taking the Decoction of the Grasses."

All the color drained from Roy's face at the mention of toxicity. "No wonder I got a day off. Even death row inmates have their last supper." Roy might've looked like he didn't care about the dangers of the trial, but still, his instinctive defensive measures told him to stay away from poisonous substances like that.

"Don't worry, boy. As it stands, your body can take the toxicity." Letho noticed his reluctance, and for once, he encouraged Roy. "It won't harm you, though you might squirm in pain for a short while. Speaking from experience."

"Will I pass the Trial of the Grasses if I drink this?" Roy put the glass bottle under the light and noticed that the decoction wasn't as pure as the other potions. Instead, it was filled with green strings that looked like parasites, and the color was a heavy black. It was also sticky and gooey, and Roy felt disturbed.

"There are no absolutes in this world," Letho told him honestly. "All I can tell you is that if you can get through this arduous process, it'll increase your chances of surviving the Trial of the Grasses."

Roy took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "How painful will this be?"

"Do you know about childbirth?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"According to Rodrigues' experiment report, anyone who takes this potion will experience the same pain as childbirth."

Roy kept quiet and ignored 'childbirth.' He wondered if he could take it. My Will is 5.8, and my Constitution is 5.5. It's a bit higher than an average adult's, so I should be fine.

"It's been twenty years since the Viper School has had new blood. If you fail the trial…" Letho trailed off, and he patted Roy's shoulder. As if by magic, Roy calmed down. "So be brave and take the potion. If we were following the original plan, this should've only been taken six months down the line." Letho had doubt in his eyes. "Maybe you matured faster, so you reached my expectations ahead of time."

Roy knew why. He had attribute points, which was something other people didn't.

"Don't feel too stressed out. You'll have two days to prepare."

"Can I not take the potion?"

"Hmm?"

"Joking." Roy forced a smile, and some color returned to his face. He couldn't back out at that point, and it was in his plan anyway. Since he'd chosen to become a witcher, he would see his choice through, no matter how painful it might be. And since that potion could increase his chances of surviving the trial, he had no reason not to drink it.

"I don't need it. Let's do it today."

As Letho watched, Roy took the potion and swirled it, but he didn't take it immediately. He hunkered down and meditated, clearing his mind and relaxing his body. He'd fully recovered half an hour later, and he glanced at the clock before uncorking the bottle and gulping the potion.

His mouth was filled with a bitter, salty, raw taste. It was as if he had raw oyster, pork, and soil at the same time. Even though the potion traveled down his stomach in an instant, the weird taste still lingered in his mouth.

His face scrunched up, and he clenched his fists before his chest and body shook uncontrollably.

The potion had started to take effect.

The potion stayed in his oral cavity for a moment and rushed up into his head. Roy felt like he just smashed his head against a wall, and his consciousness started to fade. His eyes rolled back, and he was forced out of his meditation before falling to the ground. When the potion hit his stomach, it triggered a weird chemical reaction, releasing an enormous amount of heat. His torso felt like it was being grilled in an oven, threatening to cook him, to turn him into ash. He reflexively scratched at the ground and rolled around, trying to chase the heat away. His eyes were closed, his face red and tense, as if he were experiencing a nightmare.

A moment later, the pain reached its pinnacle, and he opened his eyes. They were bloodshot. Roy let out a guttural roar, and veins bulged at an abnormal speed on his neck and temples. Letho hunkered down beside him, his face inscrutable, though reminiscence filled his eyes. "Hold on, boy. The longer you can go and the more pain you can take, the better your reward will be."

Chapter 48

"You're awake. How do you feel, boy?" Letho asked gruffly as Roy opened his puffy eyes with difficulty. His whole body was sore, and when he looked around, he noticed he was lying on the bed of an inn room. It was nearly noon, and the light outside was blindingly bright. He could see doubles of the furniture around him, blurring his sight.

Roy shut his eyes and shook his head. It took a long time before he stopped seeing double. "How long was I out for, Letho?" He frowned and covered his eyes to block the light reflecting from Letho's bald head. "Can you sit somewhere else? The light's hurting my eyes."

Letho shrugged and moved to the chair before handing him a bowl of water. "You were out for a whole day. Frankly, that's a lot shorter than I had expected. You have a good body," Letho said calmly, as if it were just a diagnosis from a doctor.

"Well, I don't feel so good. I swear I was dead."

Roy gulped all the water in one go, and a cool sensation flowed through him. Then he was reminded of the feeling from before, of after he'd taken the potion. It was as if a fire had been lit in his chest, burning all his cells and vessels. He could feel his body scream, and it felt as if thousands of knives were piercing him. In other words, it felt like getting pierced by red-hot knives.

"You should have warned me more," Roy grumbled, and a hint of fear welled up within him. He never wanted to feel that kind of sensation again. It was worse than death.

"It did deviate from what I had in mind." Letho looked at him apologetically. "I thought you'd black out quickly under that intense pain. Actually, most of the disciples who took the potion since the last hundred years or so didn't last five minutes. Most couldn't even last for three. They'd lose all consciousness at that point, so their pain only lasted for a short while, but you…"

"What about me?"

"You lasted six minutes." Letho took out a grey notebook and flipped through it. "You didn't make a mess of yourself, nor did you spew blood, mumble, or spasm," he said solemnly.

Roy felt a chill running down his spine, and he felt glad he strengthened his stats before that. "Why didn't you tell me about that before?"

"Well, you're still alive, aren't you? You managed to get through it." Letho patted his shoulder and calmed him down. "Don't worry, boy. That pain only shows up the first time you take the potion. You'll only feel half of that next time, and it'll eventually lessen to the point you'll only frown at it."

"I thought that was the only one I had to take." Roy gulped, fear showing on his face. Half of it would still be painful. "How many more do I have to take?"

"It runs for three months, and on a weekly basis, so you have eleven more to go."

Shit. Roy took a deep breath and massaged his face, which was drenched in sweat. But I can't stop. If I do, all I did would be for naught.

"Your willpower and body are better than most disciples'." Letho was observing him in silence, and he heaved a sigh of relief when Roy didn't retort. Then he shifted the topic. "And maybe it's because your body's more developed because of your age. The other disciples took the potion before they were even ten, while you're nearly fourteen."

"Wait, so age is an advantage. If that's the case, why do witchers go for younger children?" Roy held back his doubt.

"Children are pure, innocent, and full of possibilities. Their guide can depict any kind of future for them." Letho was patient. "Children haven't fully developed their bodies yet, and they can get their bodies systematically modified by the Decoction of the Grasses. On the other hand, adults have gone through the changes of puberty and have settled down, so any modification would be harder compared to children. Most can't see through the mutation. Their bodies would break down and die."

Modifications? Break down? Roy finally understood the meaning behind the Trial of the Grasses. 'High death rate' was just a facet of it. The body breaks down if they can't take it, but what if they can see it through, and then do it again?

"Is the modification a one-time event?" Roy blurted out the question he'd always had. "Can anyone take the Decoction of the Grasses from schools like the Wolf School or the Griffin School once they manage to mutate once? "

According to what he knew, every school had a different recipe for the Decoction of the Grasses which strengthened different aspects after the mutation. Cat School witchers wore light armor and had agile, phantom-like movements, so their decoction would increase their dexterity, while Wolf School was more balanced, so their decoction would increase every aspect by a bit. Griffin School witchers' strength lay in their signs, so their will would be strengthened. Bear School witchers wore heavy armor and used two-handed swords, and they would consume more potions in a short time. In that case, their decoction should strengthen their constitution.

If someone manages to see through multiple Trial of the Grasses from different schools, what kind of witcher would he become? Theoretically speaking, the body's resistance toward poison would greatly increase after a trial. So would it make a second trial easier? Or maybe the decoctions would repel each other, killing the user. That was Roy's hypothesis.

"Are you talking about multiple modifications?" Letho's eyes gleamed dangerously, and he warned, "That idea is preposterous, boy. In all my life, I've never heard of anyone who'd taken different Decoction of the Grasses. Not even if they took it at a different time. No such fool exists. Even if they do, they would already be dead. Right, you haven't even gotten through the preliminary period, so stop thinking about useless things." Letho calmed down and held the note that was on his knee. "Tell me, do you feel any change in your body? The first time should bring some benefit with it."

"Change?" Roy put his fantasies aside and looked at his character sheet.

'HP: 30/55 (Poisoned)'

Damn. I lost twenty points. That's one poisonous potion. Compared to that, berbercane fruits and blowballs were nothing. When he looked down, he arched his eyebrow, for he saw his Will had gone up to six points. A 0.2 point increase. Well, that was one hell of a painful experience, so this is normal, but it's probably limited to the first time.

There was nothing else aside from that. Could the lack of change be because of my body being better than an average adult's? He thought he'd have a skill related to poison. Was the potion insufficient?

"Well, there is some change," he said. "I can feel my will and thinking becoming stronger."

"I see." Letho looked disappointed. "I came up with the same result after the checkup. Maybe it's because of your age, but it doesn't matter. The final results will only be known after the first phase."

After Roy had rested for two days and recovered from his ordeal, he was ready to leave Aldersberg with Letho. He didn't plan on going to the House of Cardell to say goodbye, since it would only make everyone sad. Then Seville came.

He went up to them, laughing heartily. Obviously, his life had been happy as of late, and his beard was well trimmed, and his hair slick. He looked energetic, the traces of his insomnia nowhere to be found. Seville held Roy's and Letho's hands at the same time with his own hairy ones, looking like he was reunited with his long-lost family.

"Thanks to your help, I now have no worries. You must pay me a visit when you come back to Aldersberg. I shall receive you with open arms." Roy waved him away dismissively. He'd already profited a lot from the delivery request. Then Seville said, "Since you and Letho are going west, you'll have to get through the Mahakams soon, but heretics have been causing trouble in the mountains, and the elder has set traps along the way. Going there without anything would be troublesome, but I will not let my friends get into trouble. Here, a letter of safe conduct. Take it, and you should get through easily. They show that much respect to me there."

He then winked at Roy, and the boy took the letter, though he felt nervous. "Do you have a goal of some sort, Seville?" He thought the wink was suspicious.

"Oh, of course not. I am not an ungrateful dwarf. I shall never trick my friends."

Roy calmed down a bit after Seville's multiple reassurances, and he read the letter.

'My brethren in the Mahakams,

The people before you come from the Viper School, and they are skillful, distinguished witchers who have helped me a lot in Aldersberg. They are now good friends of mine, so please show them the kindness and respect they deserve, and grant them passage through the Mahakam mountains.

Love, 𝑏𝑒𝑑𝑛𝘰𝑣𝑒𝘭.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Your brother, the squirrel of Mahakam, Seville Hoger

November 1260.'

Oh, it's just a simple letter asking for safe passage for us. Roy stopped getting hung up on that matter, and he hesitated for a moment before telling Seville his request. He wanted him to take care of the people of the House of Cardell. Seville agreed to it.

Not long after, Letho and Roy finished packing and rested their eyes. There wasn't much to pack. Most were just Roy's clothes, potions, and alchemy tools. Two bags and a saddlebag were enough. If this were in the past, there wouldn't have been so many clothes. Letho would have gone around alone.

The wilds were remote, and going for weeks without a bath was normal. He'd just take one at an inn once two weeks had passed, then he'd share a fun night with a woman. For the most part, he was just like the sailors, coachmen, and bodyguards. The lowest echelon of society.

However, Roy was a lot more particular, so he took a lot of baths to prepare for the future, though that made Letho slightly uneasy. As they talked, Letho and Roy left Aldersberg and walked west, where the Mahakams stood.

Chapter 49

When night fell, a bright full moon hung in the sky, and its light shone on a face filled with terror. The face was full of stubble the length of fingernails, its skin flabby, bloated, and drenched in sweat. It had dark circles and eyes as big as tennis balls, though they were bloodshot, and the man looked around him frantically. ｂｅ𝚍𝚗𝚘ｖｅ𝚕．ｃ𝚘𝚖

His yellow hemp shirt was tucked in his pants, caked in mud, black soot, and ore remnants. His tight pants were in tatters because of the sharp branches in the forest, and two holes were on his knees, while crimson liquid stuck to them. At that moment, he was backing up against the thick pine tree, his hands on his knees as he panted heavily. His fingers — blackened by soot — were trembling reflexively, but he gripped his pants until his fingers were white in an attempt to stop his fear.

Bang, bang, bang. Then, loud footsteps boomed through the forest, and the ground trembled, leaves falling from branches. He covered his mouth with both hands in fear, curling up like a millipede. He hid behind the big tree, holding in his breath and listening to his surroundings closely. Every rumble sent fear up to his mind, making his body tremble reflexively. He held down on his nose and mouth even stronger, almost suffocating himself. He was reminded of a scene of extreme horror, and his eyes gleamed in fear.

A long, melancholic sigh flew across the forest, and the rumble stopped five seconds after that, but for the man, it felt like an eternity. Eventually, it went farther and farther, until the man couldn't hear it anymore. He plopped down onto the ground, his chest heaving. He was like a fish out of water, and he gasped for air, for he'd almost died from asphyxiation.

Then tears fell down his cheeks. "I managed to get out of that somehow. Tina, Jim, I'm coming back tomorrow, and then we're leaving this place. Wait for me. Wait for daddy," he mumbled to himself, and his eyes that were filled with despair slowly had the gleam of life and hope with them.

But quietly, a vine as thick as an arm slowly moved down the rubber tree behind the man, not unlike a viper stalking its prey. Eventually, it approached the man's head, and it lifted itself up, just like how a viper would, then it coiled, storing energy. A moment later, it pounced on the man, wrapping around him, pulling him ten feet off the ground. The man's face turned red, and he frantically grabbed at the vine that was tightening around him, blood pouring from his mouth, and he kicked the air as if he were spasming.

But it was for naught. He was lifted high up and pulled back. Everything became a blur, and all he could see was green fern growing in the middle of the air between legs that were as thick as trunks. And then he went limp, just like a popped balloon. A few branch-like creatures stabbed his body, and along with the eerie voice they made, hot liquid spurted out, just like a fountain, and that was the end of his life.

The man's face was drained of all color in an instant, and he murmured something as his death throes. He kicked the air, and stopped breathing. Forever.

A pale body was pierced by multiple branches, pinning him ten feet above the ground. As the moonlight shone on it, pieces of bloody entrails slid down the stomach, swinging with the chilly wind of the night. As the blood dripped onto the earth, it was greedily absorbed, and a sigh of satisfaction was heard in the dark.

Roy let out a sigh and got up to straighten his wrinkled clothes, dusting off the leaves and stems from him. He was drenched in sweat.

"Had a nightmare?" Letho tossed a few handfuls of soil into the campfire, dousing the fire, then handed Roy a hot rabbit drumstick.

"It felt like someone was throttling me, and I couldn't breathe." Roy chomped down on the meat and wiped the grease off his lips. He tried to convince himself. "Maybe my body's telling me to watch out, because it's getting cold. But that was the first time I'd had a dream since I'd started replacing sleep with meditation, and it was a nightmare." He frowned.

"Fate works in mysterious ways. Sometimes it'll give us clues in the form of dreams. This isn't a good sign. Finish your meal quickly, boy." Letho looked at the mountain covered in snow that was not far from them. "We have to pass through the Mahakams as soon as possible. I hope nothing else happens then."

They journeyed on for a few more hours and came to the base of the mountains after passing through the west path. When they looked up, the peak was already hidden by the clouds and snow. Before them stood trees that had been brought low by the autumn winds, their branches swaying, and their leaves falling to the ground.

A boy in a blue cotton jacket was hopping around the forest like a bunny, scavenging for resources. Roy and Letho were about to ask him for directions when a sturdy woman darted out from the forest to pick up the boy and turn him upside down to spank him. "Running around again? What if you get eaten by the monsters? I should wallop you before that happens!"

The boy bawled, much to the amusement of Letho and Roy.

"Ma'am, is this the way to the Mahakams?"

"Who are you? I've never seen you two before." The woman glanced at them and brought her guard up when she noticed they were strangers. She held the crying boy in her embrace nervously, as if she were facing two terrifying monsters.

"We're not human traffickers, ma'am. No need to be afraid." Roy smiled warmly, though the corner of his lips twitched. I look normal, and the girls from the House of Cardell liked me. I'm not that scary, am I?

The woman said nothing, only staring fearfully at the bald witcher behind him.

Roy looked back and realized the reason for the woman's fear. He mumbled, "Poker face, weird eyes, looks cold. No wonder she's scared." He then turned back to explain. "Have you heard of witchers, ma'am? We have to look fierce, or we can't hunt those monsters. Don't worry though, since we're just going to ask for directions. We'll leave after that."

"You're witchers?" The woman observed them in suspicion, then she scrambled away with the boy in hand. She looked back at them on the way and almost tripped on a stone, but she didn't fall. Her child gurgled happily.

"Don't leave!"

They looked at each other, confused, then tailed the woman. They walked across the pine forest and saw white smoke coming from the chimneys of the houses in a village.

Under the signboard with the name 'Svanthor' carved on it stood a red-nosed man wearing a felt hat, and a few village women were behind him. Children were hiding behind the women, though they looked at the two people who came to their village curiously.

The man with the felt hat glanced at the snake-shaped necklace hanging around Letho's neck, and he rubbed his hands and forced a warm smile. "Why don't you stay for a meal if you have the time? We have a request for you. Please, come with us."

Chapter 50

Svanthor was located at the base of the Mahakam mountains, and there were less than two hundred families there. Most of the youths didn't work in the fields, but instead became miners in the mountains the dwarves developed. It had been that way for more than fifty years.

Instead of using wood for their houses, the village's buildings were made out of ores, making them sturdy and prettier. Roy sat on the rug in the chief's house, drinking a bowl of vegetable soup made out of shriveled vegetables, and he rubbed his chin. Being a witcher's lucrative. We just left Aldersberg, and already we're receiving a request. We haven't even rested enough yet.

"Mr Casillas, as you were saying, there have been four deaths during the last three months?"

The man with the red nose nodded solemnly. "Three single lads died a bit ago, and the latest casualty is Brady. It's been a few days since we've found his body. Two children and his wife survive him. Since their breadwinner is gone, they can only live on welfare from now on." He sighed. "Ever since the village's inception, it has been more than twenty years since the last murder of such brutality. Everyone's really scared, and they say the murderers are monsters in the mountains. They're worried they might be next, so I beseech you, please find out who or what did this. The bounty is negotiable."

Letho waved him down. "That can wait. We need more information. Why's there only women, children, and the elderly when we came? Where are the men?"

Casillas pointed at the sun outside. "Everyone's still working in the mines now. There's still four or five hours until their return."

Roy gasped. "They're working instead of taking care of their families even after the murders have happened? Aren't they worried they might be the next victims?"

Casillas rubbed his nose and smiled bitterly. "Nothing we can do. I've told their boss in the Mahakams about this, and the working hours have been reduced so they can return before dark. Also, they promised they'd catch the murderer. But they aren't professionals, and it's been three months since then, but there's been no progress. So we have to rely on witchers for the job now." He looked at them, his gaze expectant but careful.

"Their boss in Mahakam?" Roy thought about that, and he found it curious. As far as he knew, dwarves, elves, and the other ancient species were inferior in status to humans in the current society, but the positions seemed to be switched in the Mahakams.

The humans working in the mines call the dwarves their boss. He could feel the fear and respect Casillas radiated at the mention of the dwarves. Is Brovar Hoger a tyrant?

Letho took control of the conversation and cut to the chase. "Let's talk about the meat of the matter. We need to understand the rough details of the deaths, like the cause."

Casillas answered in anger, "As the village chief, I went there as fast as I could, and what I saw was, and still is, horrifying. I could never forget it. The monsters are nothing but cruel bastards."

Casillas told them what he'd observed, and Letho and Roy fell into silent ponderance. "They died in the forest, their stomach sliced open, their body's pierced by a wooden thing, fastening them to the ground, and their bodies were left to be feasted on by birds and beasts.

Letho gave Roy a look, and Roy understood what he was trying to say, so he spoke of his judgment. "According to your testimony, I am almost certain that they weren't killed by monsters, unlike what the villagers told you. In most cases, monsters wouldn't run around to hurt people. They hate open places like forests in mountains. Most prefer lying in dark and cramped places like graves. What you spoke of sounded more like an ancient ritual. We need more clues. We need to check the bodies." Roy gazed at Casillas, and it took the chief a while to snap out of it.

"If it wasn't a monster, then what was it?" He gave them an apologetic look. "Also, it's impossible to check the bodies now. Everyone burned them because they were worried the lads might've turned into ghouls from being infected by the monsters. I-it's desecrating the dead, but we had no choice. It was for everyone's survival."

"Wait, who told you monsters can infect people? It's not a plague or disease. No way can it spread. It's going to be hard to go on now, since you burned the bodies."

Casillas couldn't find any comeback for that.

"Who told you the monsters were the murderers in the first place?"

"The lords of the mountain."

Roy thought about it quietly, while Letho clapped and stood up. "It's normal for them to know nothing about monsters. Don't scold them, boy. Mr. Casillas, why don't you take us around the village so we can get more clues?"

"What about the request?"

"We'll have to investigate further to see if we can take this."

The moment they exited, the women and children who were listening averted their gazes in fright and pretended to be busy, though they looked clumsy.

Roy noticed Letho's stern look and realized that the request might be a hard one. "Is this a hard one, Letho? I didn't think you'd refuse it."

"Boy, I told you to never take requests that are beyond what you can do. That message is all the more important for people like you who think they can do anything because they learned something," Letho emphasized. "First, know who your enemies are, or you might just die a horrible death."

They were led to Brady's house by Casillas. Brady was the latest casualty. A woman with a red face and plain clothes was waiting outside for them.

After Letho introduced himself, he asked, "Had your husband been acting strange before his death? Or had he left any special messages for you?"

The woman pondered in sorrow and shook her head dumbly.

"What about your husband's reputation in the village, then? How is it?"

"His reputation has always been good. He'd be the first to help no matter who was in trouble, and aside from working in the mines, he was a great hunter. Whenever he hunted something, he'd share it with everyone."

Casillas added, "I can be a witness to that. Her husband's reputation is fine. The three lads who died had some grudges against the villagers, but Brady was a gentle man who never argued with anyone. Everyone liked him."

At the mention of that, the woman was reminded of her husband's kindness, and she buried her face in her hands to cry. "H-he stayed in the mines for half a month. I never expected that to be our last goodbye. I-I didn't even manage to keep his body!" As she cried, two chubby children darted out from behind her and hugged her legs, then they cried with her.

"Poor Tina and Jim. They lost their father at such a young age. The kids are just five. How can they survive after this?" Casillas patted the boy's head, and the boy looked up.

He wiped his tears away with his dirty hands and stared at Roy with watering eyes. "Y-you will get the murderer, won't you?" His sister and mother looked at him with hopeful gazes.

Roy glanced at Letho, but he was still inscrutable, as always. Roy took a deep breath and calmed the stirring in his heart, then he looked away from the boy who was crying.

"Let's go to the other victims' homes, Mr. Casillas. Do the villagers usually stay out that long?" Roy asked.

"Only Brady. He wanted to make some money to send Jim to a school in Aldersberg."

"I see."

The visits went smoothly. The remaining victims didn't have any complex relationships within the village. Even though they did fight with the other villagers, it didn't warrant murder. Letho didn't even need to use Axii to find what he wanted. Roy also had a feeling that the one behind the murders wasn't a human.

"Take us to the latest crime scene," Letho said.

Chapter 51

The place where Brady died was around two miles from Svanthor. Letho, Roy, and Casillas walked down the village's path for half an hour, and saw a dense pine forest from far away. Most of the trees were over a hundred years old and over forty feet tall. When they looked up, big branches and leaves resembling umbrellas congregated, blocking out the sun. The ground was also covered by a layer of said branches and leaves, and the smell of soil and remnants of fermenting plants wafted through the air. A small creature would pop out to look at them at times and scurry back into the forest after that.

"The crime scene is up ahead, you two, and there's dried blood left. I trust you'll see it right away. This is as far as I'll go, but I'll wait for you here." According to Casillas, going to places where people had died was unlucky. Bad luck would befall those who went there. He'd come here once, and he didn't want to come close a second time. Roy and Letho didn't force him.

Far away, at the edge of the pine forest, a few especially long branches from the trees bent inward in a circle, forming a 'tower' that measured one man tall, and beneath them, the ground filled with leaves was colored red. Flies danced above the pieces of meat and bones. Fortunately, there was no rain for the past three days, so the scene was preserved.

When they went closer, they saw that the ground was filled with footprints presumably belonging to the villagers. There was also a lingering stench in the air. When they took another step, a soft murmur was heard in the quiet forest. Shocked, Roy curled up and backed off to where Letho was. He wasn't being a coward. It was merely a tactical retreat. Since Letho was around, there was no need for him to be in the vanguard.

"Relax, boy." Letho touched his necklace and stopped it from vibrating. "The disturbance is too weak. It's not an attack. Just resonance from remnants of mana." He closed his eyes and felt it. "It's been three days, but I can still feel a weak disturbance in the air."

"So the murderer isn't human?" Roy hunkered down and touched the place where the tower-shaped branches connected to the ground, then he blew the sand away from his hand.

"This tower isn't natural or built by humans. It's caused by supernatural spells. I can see how the kill happened. Brady must have been caught off guard and pierced by the spear that suddenly showed up and been thrusted into the air, slicing his belly open."

"So this is where he died?" Roy asked

"I don't think anyone would destroy a corpse deliberately."

Roy didn't question Letho's answer. When he walked around the scene, he found another clue. "There's some weird scratches on this tree."

Letho took a look and fell into silence before giving Roy a look of approval. "This is the trace of getting pulled by vines. The murderer coiled Brady with vines, lifted him into the air, and killed him with a spell." They then found a part of the vine in a nearby bush.

"Controls vines and uses ground spikes…" Roy was reminded of a monster, and he had a guess of what the murderer was.

Letho hunkered down and picked up a piece of a fetid item without fear, and Roy scrunched his nose.

"Rotten flesh and animal feces. To be precise, bird and wolf feces as well as dried urine, but the amount is unusual." Aside from the crimson hue on the ground, there were clumps of dried feces lying around, and Letho kept on explaining. "One corpse can't attract that many beasts. The body was found at the edge of the forest, while wolves should be living in the center of the forest. It's still a distance away. These aren't their hunting grounds."

Roy gave it some thought. "So the beasts left their excrements here on purpose?"

Letho nodded. "Most probably. They're using excrements to hide and destroy any evidence that could point to the murderer, and they did it. The murderer's scent and tracks are mixed in." Letho rubbed his nose. "At least I can't disce… I mean, trace it."

Roy's question was answered. "So the murderer can control animals too." He sorted out his information and arrived at a conclusion. A monster that can control vines and use ground spikes. Has the ability to control animals and lives in the mountains. A gigantic monster popped up in his mind. If that's the murderer, then this request is going to be a hard one. But he was also excited. Hunting the monster on its turf would be an insurmountable challenge. He'd run away if he was alone, for he was weak. But since Letho was there, he had a heavy hitter which made everything possible.

Letho didn't realize what Roy was thinking, and he went on with his reasoning. "Don't you think this is weird, boy? The murderer didn't need to do so much if they were just dealing with normal guys. Humans and dwarves can't see their traces, unlike witchers."

Roy gasped. "So they did this as a countermeasure against witchers!"

Letho nodded solemnly. "It probably just moved here recently and started murdering all it liked. Obviously, it also knew it would eventually attract professionals. This is one experienced, cunning opponent we're facing." Letho emphasized the last line, and he didn't hide his aversion either.

Roy's breathing got quicker at that point. Up until that day, the grave hag had been the strongest monster he'd faced. If he managed to get a hundred EXP by killing a monster the witchers had weakened, killing a monster even a witcher was reluctant to face would provide even more EXP. I'm currently at level 3 (5/1500). Not going to let this go if I can. 𝒷ℯ𝓭𝓷ℴ𝓋𝓮𝓵.𝒸ℴ𝓶

"Why are you so excited, boy? Shouldn't you be scared? The target's obviously a monster far beyond what you can handle." Letho brushed the fetid sludge from his hand and stood up. "Sorry for getting your hopes up for nothing. I'm not going to take this request."

Roy sighed silently. He had a feeling Letho would do that, since he was a cautious witcher. "How should we explain this to everyone in Svanthor?" He felt a bit heartbroken when he imagined the looks of disappointment on the kids and women's faces.

"What explanation? We didn't take the request or make any promises, so we owe them nothing. Are you saying you're going to fight that thing because you sympathize with them?" Letho lectured him coldly. "You're too weak to show pity to anyone."

Roy wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He didn't expect Letho to be that caustic, but he didn't retort. The thing he should've been doing at the moment was growing and getting stronger. Squabbles wouldn't do him any good.

Letho looked ahead sharply, and a raven had appeared out of nowhere on the ancient branches. It opened its wings, and its beak looked like a scythe, its black eyes having an uncannily cruel gleam to it. Seemingly surprised by the attention Letho and Roy gave it, its eyes flashed crimson and flew toward the forest.

Letho mumbled, "The loyal servant is now going to inform its master, huh?"

And then a crossbow bolt soared through the sky. The raven trembled for a moment before falling to the ground, dead.

Huh? "Who told you to shoot it, boy?"

"Sorry. Did I misread you?" Roy shrugged. "I'll check with you next time."

Chapter 52

Once they'd checked the place, they went back and said their goodbyes to Casillas, much to the chief's chagrin. They were almost at their wits' end, and if the witcher they'd waited so fervently for were to leave, their village would be doomed.

"I thought we had a deal, Letho. I can raise the price if it's too difficult for you."

Letho crossed his arms and retorted mercilessly, "Think harder. I said I'd make my decision after the survey. And now I've decided to refuse. This isn't just about the price. There's no point in making that much money if we're going to end up dead. Hunting requests are businesses, and they follow the rule of trade. You have the right to make requests, and we have the right to refuse them."

"Don't you feel any sympathy? For Tina, for Jim, for that widow, and the victims' families?" Casillas frowned, and he started to beg. "Can't you help them catch the murderer?" But he saw no sign of pity on Letho's face, and he stopped. Instead, his eyes filled with malice, and his attitude took a turn for the worse. "It's just as they said. Witchers are cold-blooded animals who have lost all humanity. Get out of the village and never come back. This place doesn't welcome you."

Letho wasn't the least bit fazed by the resentment, and it wasn't the first time Roy had encountered such harsh treatment. After the grave had been killed, Kaer's villagers had turned their hatred toward the witchers. And then Casillas was the second one. He wanted to chase them out the moment Letho refused to enter a contract. If we were Cat School witchers, we might've just flown into a rage and killed everyone here.

He shook his head, the last of his pity disappearing. Roy could understand why most witchers kept a poker face on at all times. They're numb after seeing all these incidents happen over and over again.

𝙗𝒆𝙙𝙣𝒐𝙫𝙚𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝒎

They ignored Casillas' look of rage and went toward the Mahakams. "Letho, would you have turned that down if I were as strong as you?"

"Don't think too much about it, boy. You'll have a chance to fight it in the future, but for now, focus on the trial," Letho answered. "Oh, and you killed its messenger just now, so pray that it doesn't come for us."

They weren't ambushed after leaving Svanthor. Not long after that, they followed the path leading to the depths of the Mahakams. The path was flanked by crags as tall as the eye could see, and its surface formed stairs of stone. Letho and Roy journeyed for around an hour when they arrived at a clearing, and they heard voices.

What greeted them was two rows of barricades made from sharpened wood, blocking them from entering the forest. Behind the barricade stood a dwarf in silver armor and a big, black hammer was on his back. He was talking to his equally heavily armored comrades. A dwarf crossbowman was standing sentry, looking around for any dangers. The crossbow he held was bigger and heavier than Gabriel, the hand crossbow Roy kept in his inventory. It was like comparing a model to the real thing.

Roy was excited to see that. When he was about to say something, the sentry saw them. "This is not a place where outsiders can enter. Leave, travelers." The dwarf aimed his crossbow at them, and the languid dwarf with the hammer was alerted.

He held the great hammer in his hand, his face contorted. "The m-mahakams d-do not welcome strangers. I-if your destination is Ellander, t-then go through Rivia or Upper Sodden in the south."

The dwarf who stuttered was holding a hammer bigger than his body, and the hammer's head was bigger than his own. His short height made him look funny with the weapon, but the hammer wasn't to be taken lightly. Inertia alone would make it easy for it to crush human bones and mash bodies to a pulp.

"So Seville calls this a small hurdle? They don't even let anyone through." Roy was annoyed. If they followed the route the dwarves told them about, their journey time would double. Letho gave him a look and left the talking to him. He seemed to understand that his fierce looks didn't help in diplomacy.

Roy organized his words and went up as calmly as he could. "Brothers — "

"W-we ain't your brothers!" The stammering guard interrupted him. "Get back!" He took another step forward, his beard swinging toward them, and the weird smell of alcohol and sweat drifted to them.

Roy took a step back. "Warrior, we aren't your enemies. I have Seville's — " His eyelid twitched, and alarm bells rang in his head thanks to his sharp perception. However, his body wasn't quick enough to react. A moment later, an arrow struck the stone beside him and deflected toward the wall. It was a warning shot.

Roy tensed up and took another step back. Letho was faster. He quickly drew an inverted triangle in the air with his right hand, and a yellowish barrier of light covered him. Letho had nothing to fear after casting Quen. He unsheathed his steel sword, holding it at his side with both hands, pointing the tip at the dwarf's neck, looking like a bull that was going to charge its enemies.

Tension was in the air, and everyone felt suffocated. Stubborn oafs. Roy showed his hands and took a step back. "Don't rush this, Letho. Let's take a few steps back." He'd seen how cruel Letho could be. If he was facing harmless civilians, he'd take their insults, but he showed no mercy to those who tried to fight him. The last group to do so had died. Yeah, their attitude is shit, but you don't have to kill them. And this is their turf. If you kill them, that's going to offend everyone. As if we could pass through the mountains then.

Letho thought about it silently and gave all the dwarves a murderous glare, and then he stabbed downward. Before anyone knew it, the sword penetrated the stone ground like it was nothing, shocking the dwarves.

"R-r-retreat!" the stammering dwarf stuttered meekly as he put his hammer down. He looked at his companions, whose faces were stiff, and when they shared a glance, their gusto from before gone.

Roy took the chance to take out the letter and bellowed, "We're friends of Seville Hoger. He wrote this letter himself. Please take a look."

The dwarves heaved a sigh of relief after hearing that. Letho really scared them. "C-come here. Not you, baldy!"

A few moments later, the stammering dwarf took the letter with his pudgy hands, and when he was about to read it, someone smacked his head. He turned around angrily only to get scolded. "You're illiterate, you dolt! Sorry you had to see that. Dwarves are smart, but sometimes idiots are born." The crossbowman came down from the watchtower. Ignoring his furious companion, he took the letter and read it. "Hm, this is Mr. Seville's handwriting and stamp alright." He nodded and handed the letter back. There was no enmity in his gaze anymore, though he still looked scared while facing Letho.

"That was a misunderstanding. It is our fault. Forgive us for this show of discourtesy." He tossed his hostility aside and bowed to Letho and Roy. His companions scrambled to do the same.

"It's nothing. I've heard of the straightforward attitude of the dwarves. Your passion for duty really opens my eyes though," Roy said, complimenting them, and just as the dwarves were feeling nice about themselves, he pulled out something from his shirt and uncorked the bottle.

A moment later, the strong aroma of alcohol appeared before them, and they craned their necks, gulping, looking like cats drawn to fish.

The stammering dwarf's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y-your s-shirt is s-so s-small, so w-where d-did you g-get that?"

"Irrelevant question. This is a gift from Mr. Seville for us to enjoy on our journey. Fifty-year-old Mahakaman liquor, and it packs a punch not unlike dwarven liquor." Roy looked at Letho, and Letho was watching quietly with his arms crossed. Roy continued. "But I'm going to share it with all of you as friends. What do you think?"

Reagan Dalba, the dwarf with the crossbow on his back, declined. "Um… Mr. Seville's friend is a friend of all Mahakaman dwarves. It's normal for friends to share some alcohol, but we have a duty to carry out, so we must decline for now."

Roy swirled the bottle, making the aroma waft through the air quicker, and he sized up the dwarves again. "I heard dwarves are great drinkers. All of you look strong, so I bet you can drink a lot. One bottle of Mahakaman liquor isn't enough to fill you up, much less affect your job."

"Of course," the stammering dwarf said, agreeing, and his companions were obviously tempted by the liquor as well, but Reagan was still hesitating.

Roy pulled his hand back. "I won't force you if you don't want to. I shall be keeping this for the journey to enjoy alone."

"Hold on." Reagan finally couldn't hold his urge in, and he grabbed Roy's hand with his hairy one. "You're right, Roy. This won't be enough to affect our job."

Half an hour later, the guards paid the price for underestimating the wine. The bearded dwarves were taken out by the alcohol and slept on the barricade. Then Roy positioned them so they looked like two kissing pairs of dwarves. After that, he fiddled with the beautiful crossbow and ring he took from the crossbowman. The body and string were made of high-quality material. As he held it, the weight gave him a solid feeling.

A row of words were carved neatly onto the body. It read, 'To my dear brother, Reagan Dalba.'

Roy was overjoyed. He'd been looking for a chance to replace Gabriel, and he found it.

"A perfect weapon needs to be triggered by a ring. This is the price for the liquor, Mr. Reagan. Once I get past the Mahakams and get through the trial, I'll come back and drink with you when I have the chance. Equivalent exchange, am I right, Letho?" Roy's frustration from being condemned by Casillas was suddenly gone. It's a long trip. Gotta find some fun.

Letho shook his head and went on with the journey.

Chapter 53

Mount Carbon, the hometown of the dwarves, the miracle fortress of the valley. Sunlight shone on its peak, its windows caressed by snow, its walls covered by steel and fire, and the air was filled with the scent of honey and pine oil.

"Well, this is some shit luck. Instead of getting our murderer, we got a whole group of armed dwarves." Letho and Roy were captured by the dwarves not long after they got through the sentry. There was a big group of crossbowmen waiting for them, and the sheer number overwhelmed the duo. Seville's letter wasn't of any use, or to be more precise, it worked against them.

Roy sighed, and he followed the dwarves into the forest. More than two hours later, he felt the temperature drop drastically, the trees around him covered in silvery snow. And then they were led into a valley. Dwarves were frolicking around in the plaza, and sitting behind it was the destination of their journey — Mount Carbon.

"I believe introductions are necessary here, witcher. What you see here is Mahakam's capital, the fortress of the dwarves, and the sanctuary of the ancient race — Mount Carbon."

Roy was shaken to his core at the sight of the gigantic fortress. Mount Carbon was embedded within the mountain, and it was made up of a main fortress shaped like a cauldron, sixteen small forts, and countless towers. The buildings' exterior was greyish-white, and was made out of cement. The walls were covered with a black steel shell over a hundred feet tall. It looked ancient and indestructible, like a beast slumbering in the dark. If it were to awaken, devastation would follow.

Roy didn't remember the dwarves having any fortress like that, but there it was. When he looked up at the cracks between the forts, he saw thousands of small caves in the mountain, and countless dwarves were going around, providing nutrients for Mount Carbon, just like how worker ants would.

"Well, at least it's a nice thing to see. We'll let your scheme slide this time then, Seville."

The letter was a pass and a letter of recommendation. They managed to fool the gullible ones, but not the ones in the Mahakams. Thanks to Seville's praise, they were 'cordially' invited to visit Mount Carbon. And they had to settle the dwarves' problem too.

Letho looked the slightest bit curious, for it was rare to see such a great building, even after years of working as a witcher. Behind them followed dozens of crossbowmen aiming at them. Even though witchers were skillful, that many crossbowmen could still take them out easily, and the siege weapons looming over them didn't seem to be for show.

"Please forgive us for the offense." The dwarf who spoke was Kaerwen Hoger, Brovar Hoger's nephew. His armor was slightly covered in snow, but his hair was whiter than that. Because of the color of his hair and beard, he looked much older than he actually was. He had a hard expression, and he talked with arrogance and superiority, something that was rarely seen among dwarves.

Unlike most dwarves who braided their beards, Kaerwen tied it with a silver ribbon. It was daring, but also rebellious. Roy had sharply perceived Kaerwen's enmity toward him the moment they'd met. He wondered if that enmity was only directed toward him, or if it was aimed at humans as a whole.

"Follow me, please."

They went into the fortress, passing through the front gates that were filled with spikes, and a heatwave assailed them. Roy felt as if he went from the Arctic to a volcano, and sweat poured, then what he saw shocked him.

Hundreds of half-naked dwarves were flanking the hall, wearing nothing but aprons. Metallic sounds clanged out as the dwarves swung their hammers on the steel on their workstations. Flames soared, and the dwarves' shadows were cast onto the wall, and it looked as if dark giants were swinging their arms.

A short while later, Roy's attention was brought to the scene beside him. Inside the flames of a forge, red-hot liquid steel flowed freely, and the base of a four-feet sword was lying inside quietly. The dwarf who was working on it solemnly took out the base, but at an agonizing speed. The moment the base was out, booms were heard, and smoke sizzled. Even the air was howling at its scalding temperature. When the base had finally shown itself, its surface that had been hammered many times was showing signs of overlapping, but it was crude compared to a finished product.

The dwarf took it with his tongs and whispered to it, not unlike a lover to their partner. A moment later, he placed it on his anvil with his tongs in one hand, and his hammer in the other. He took a deep breath before raising his hammer, and then he swung it down on the base. Sparks hit his body that was drenched in oil and sweat, giving him a crimson sheen, and he looked like a god licked by flames.

Roy snapped out of it and scanned the whole hall. Weapons and armor were being made during every passing moment. And then black tongs immersed them in water, and steam billowed, filling the hall with smoke. Their movements were boring and repetitive, but there was an inexplicable rhythm to it. The rhythm breathed life into the items it created, giving them a special gleam. 𝑏𝘦𝑑𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"I can understand your feelings. I'm a dwarf, and even I was entranced by what I saw when I first came here. The forge is our pride, for it is the place where the best blacksmiths in the Mahakams and Mount Carbon come to work. It's where the best weapons and armor in the north are created. The blacksmiths run on a shift system, and ores are supplied from the mines nearby, while the flames burn forever. The items that are created are sent to many nations, including Aedirn, Temeria, Kaedwen, and Redania. We're neutral. We don't take sides, nor do we oppress others," Kaerwen said, bragging, and the crossbowmen raised their heads with pride.

Roy was speechless from his shock. The blacksmiths work around the clock? The number of things they make in a day must be off the charts. How many elite soldiers can they make? If their population had been large enough, the whole of the northern land would have been theirs.

"The wine cellar's right under. Not that I'm bragging or anything, but if all the barrels down there were to break at the same time, the wine alone would be enough to create a river. But there's no time for a visit today. It's getting late, and Elder Brovar is waiting for you."

He invited them to go forward, and they arrived at a door that was flanked by spiral staircases at the end of the hall. Kaerwen waved the crossbowmen away before opening the golden door, and then he took Letho and Roy's weapons away. Behind the door stood two axemen that glared at anyone who came in. When they saw who it was, they kept their axes, revealing a path that was lit up by flames.

Pillars with complex engravings supported the chamber, and the red carpet in the center extended to the end of the room. On the top of the short staircase stood a dwarf with a golden crown, and his eyes were on Letho and Roy.

Chapter 54

Behind the black, metal throne stood a gigantic, stone statue that was as tall as the chamber. The dwarf that sat on the throne placed his right elbow on the golden armrest and rested his chin on his right hand. His sturdy body was covered in red silk, and his forehead was creased by a frown. His face was majestic, but his eyes had a hint of frustration and lethargy.

The dwarves in white who were beside him whispered, "Elder Brovar, the people you requested are here."

Kaerwen bowed to Brovar when he went up to him.

"Letho, a witcher of the Viper School and his disciple, Roy. It's rare my nephew would praise someone so much, so I guess you're the real deal. I hope you won't disappoint me." The elder's voice echoed in the corridor. It was a husky voice, as if a boulder and stone were scratching against each other. There was an inexplicably ancient element to his voice that left a deep impression.

Brovar was a muscular dwarf, but it couldn't hide his age. Dwarves had a long life expectancy, but even so, Brovar was old among them.

'Brovar Hoger

Age: A hundred and ninety-eight years old

Gender: Male

HP: 120 (Racial trait: Resilience. +20 HP)

Status: Great Elder of Mount Carbon (An overwhelming majority of the dwarves acknowledge him. He is the ruler of Mount Carbon and oversees all business pertaining to the Mahakams.)

Strength: 10 (Strong Body. +1)

Dexterity: 6 (Stout. -1)

Constitution: 10 (Strong Body. +1)

Perception: 7

Will: 8

Spirit: 6

Charisma: 6 (Stout. -1)

Skills:

Ancient Crafting Level 10: Brovar Hoger has trained his skills for a century. He can create any weapon or armor. Masterful is understating his skills. He can create powerful armor out of scrap metal. Even though it has been years since he has made his last piece of work, his skill is still among the best in the world. Any armor he makes is tantamount to a legacy item usable by any knight, soldier, mercenary, or witcher. He can even create divine items from the ancient era as long as he has the blueprint and materials.

Two-handed Mastery Level 10: Years of training and battle granted him perfect mastery of giant axes, lances, polearms, and great hammers. Using two-handed weapons grants him a 50% damage increase.

Resilience (Passive): Dwarves live long lives and possess powerful life forces. An adult dwarf has twenty more HP than humans.

Strong body (Passive): Dwarves are known for their proficiency with two-handed weapons and great stamina. An adult dwarf has one point more in Strength and Constitution than humans.

Stout (Passive): Their stout, fat bodies make them move slower than normal humans. Their looks are undesirable by every other race. Some even despise dwarves for their looks. Their Dexterity and Charisma are deducted by one point.

Danger Sensing Level 5: Years of combat experience has granted him a sharp sense toward impending danger.'

Brovar had higher stats than most people, but Roy had seen better, so he wasn't fazed. Ancient Crafting caught his attention, though. Letho needs a good silver sword. This dwarf here could be the key to getting it.

Letho looked at Kaerwen, who was still kneeling, and he announced, "Elder Brovar, we have come here as you have wished, but pardon my frankness. You're an influential figure in the Mahakams, and we'd have come to meet you as long as you'd have called for us. There was no need to bring us in like criminals." 𝗯𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥.𝐜𝗼𝐦

"What did I tell you, Kaerwen?" Brovar said, and the arrogant Kaerwen stared down quietly, admitting his mistake. "Forget it. I know you hate dealing with humans, but handling business with your personal bias is unacceptable. Apologize to our guests right away."

Kaerwen took a deep breath, clenching his fists, and he bowed to them reluctantly.

"My nephew has been an arrogant one, but he's not even sixty yet. If we go by human standards, he's just grown up. I hope you'll let it slide."

Heh. He sounds like he's criticizing his nephew, but he obviously spoils him. Roy looked at them both and realized they looked alike. Their beard and hair were white, and their features were similar, especially the arrogance in their eyes.

Letho stopped pushing his luck. "Let's talk business then, Elder Brovar. Why did you summon us in such a hurry? You should know that witchers deal with monsters. Mount Carbon is an impregnable fortress that's under your supervision. Not even a single monster can get through. I don't see where the problem is."

"Incorrect, witcher. Yes, monsters aren't any trouble, but only if you're in the fortress," he said solemnly. "Miners have been dying in the mines, outside the fortress. The reason you're here today is to get the murderer, dead or alive."

Letho and Roy looked at each other in surprise. That's the same request Casillas asked us to take. Well, looks like we can't escape this. Roy wondered why the seemingly superior dwarves were doing everything to ask for a witcher's help so they could aid the humans at the mountain base.

Brovar knew what they were thinking, and he showed anger. "The murderer crossed the line. Not only did it kill the human miners, it also started killing my brethren too. That's a declaration of war on me and the whole of the Mahakam mountains. It must die."

"I see." Roy realized what was happening. So the villagers knew nothing about this. The humans weren't the only ones who died. Their boss died too.

"Witcher, you shall be duly rewarded if you can arrest the murderer."

"What if I can't?"

"Then you shall go back the same way you came. And the Mahakams shall forever be closed to the both of you." Roy gritted his teeth, and Letho's face fell. Brovar suddenly pushed himself up and bellowed, "You ought to know that a treasure can only be gifted to someone worthy. I've made countless weapons, and some of them still have no owner. If you manage to finish the request, I'll give you one of the swords I made. Don't worry about the quality. I shall not insult a witcher."

Letho looked interested. Any sword wielder must have heard of the quality of Mahakaman weapons, and the weapons made by Brovar were the best of the best. Having one would be of great help in future battles.

"Elder, I might only be a disciple, but I can work perfectly with Letho. I can help too." Roy was tempted by the offer, but Brovar didn't share his opinion.

"You?" He shook his head cryptically. "I think you should stay here, boy. You'll be well fed."

Roy sighed. So even the dwarves think I'm weak. He could be of use too, though. Even though close quarter combat was out of his league, he could shoot some bolts and throw a few bombs. Roy winked at Letho, but Letho ignored him.

"I'll take the request, Elder Brovar. The boy will be staying here. Please take care of him."

Brovar nodded, then he told Kaerwen, "Kaerwen, from today onward, you shall listen to Letho's every order and help him track down the murderer. Any objections shall be punished severely."

"Yes, sir!" the silent Kaerwen finally replied.

"Letho, your investigation starts tomorrow, and it shall last for two weeks. If you fail to complete the request by December, I am afraid you must leave the Mahakams."

Chapter 55

After Kaerwen had gotten his orders, he'd led Letho and Roy out of the resplendent chamber and into the guest rooms on another floor.

"You're going to leave me behind again, Letho?" Roy tried to persuade him. "Don't you think battling this kind of monster is valuable experience for me? It's fine if I just watch from the sidelines. I won't be a burden, trust me. We've refused the request once in Svanthor, but in the end, we couldn't escape it. Don't you think this is a sign from fate?" Roy talked about fate after not getting any reply. Letho seemed to like anything related to fate. "Fate is telling us to face this challenge together."

"Shut it. Fate doesn't have time for a kid from a village like you." Letho kept his eyes on Kaerwen, and without even turning around, he answered, "The hunt's going to take us deep into the forest, and that's its turf. Everything is its eyes and ears, so there's no place to hide. Watching from the sidelines isn't going to happen." Letho raised his voice on purpose. "So give it up and stay in Mount Carbon. Go on a vacation and stroll around. Not everyone has the chance to visit this magnificent fortress. You've been training your shots, and the dwarves here are experts. You can ask them to teach you if you have the chance. Read my notes if you're bored out of your mind."

Roy stopped insisting after Letho stood his ground. Letho got one point right though. He was willing to compete with the dwarven crossbowmen, since he just 'bought' a new crossbow, and he was raring to go.

They went up the spiral staircase that led to the second floor with Kaerwen in front of them. As if struck by lightning, Kaerwen served Letho and Roy quietly after getting scolded by Brovar. He brought them to the space above Brovar's chambers, which was another clearing in the mountain. When the door was opened, they were greeted by a corridor filled with doors on both sides leading to exhibition rooms and storerooms, and sconces hung on the wall. When they looked up, they saw a steel door with a rectangular observation hole at the end of the corridor.

Roy suddenly felt the howling winds and freezing chill that came from the steel door's observation hole, and he shivered. "There's windows here?" When he went up to the door, Roy craned his neck and was shocked by what he saw. "Whoa, the dwarves sure have an eye for exquisite stuff."

The room behind the steel door was of standard size, and it was empty. There was no wall at the end of the room. It was completely open, and snow flew in along with the cold gale, freezing the ceiling, walls, and floor. So, open air resort, eh? And with snow to boot. The guest would only have to walk a few steps to see the majesty of Mount Carbon up close, feeling the primal charm of the snow-capped mountain. They could enjoy the view of the endless pine trees and the flaming sunset among the ivory lands.

Well, they'll have to make sure they don't freeze to death in the first place. There weren't any blankets or fireplaces in the room. Only races with hairy bodies and high resistance to cold could enjoy the view. Oh, if they take a few more steps, they can fall down the cliff and die.

"What do you think, boy? Make one mistake in the Mahakams, and you'll be in there for a week. Want me to make the arrangements for you?" Kaerwen asked snarkily as he drifted to Roy.

Roy turned around and stared down at the dwarf, who only reached his chest, and he squinted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kaerwen. Who were you calling a boy?"

Kaerwen's face fell, but he was reminded of Brovar's orders, and he snorted. After making a few turns and arriving at the guest rooms in the depths of the corridor, Kaerwen tossed them two keys. "Dinner will be sent to you. Lights off at ten, and stay in your room. Not even the great elder can save you if you barge into forbidden places. And I'll be waking you tomorrow, Letho." He slammed the door shut.

Roy stretched his arms. Too many things happened that day, and he was overwhelmed. He needed time to process it. Letho put his index finger to his lips before tiptoeing to the door. Once he confirmed the coast was clear, he beckoned Roy. "Know why I didn't let you join?"

"Because I'd be deadweight."

"That's the main reason."

"Give it to me straight, Letho." Roy took a deep breath. "I noticed it. You were misleading him, weren't you? When you raised your voice?" 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝐜𝐨𝗺

"Good. Looks like the winds didn't freeze your brain. I do have a mission for you."

"Hm?" Roy sat up. "I knew it. Strength is everything here, but sometimes, you need brains to pull something off."

Letho whispered, "You'll be investigating the dwarves while I'm away on the hunt. I need you to find a dwarf with a special mark on them." He drew a strange symbol where a spider's web and antler overlapped. "Remember this mark. Tell me immediately if you see it on any part of any dwarf. And don't get caught."

Roy rubbed his chin and frowned. "Everyone's wrapped up in layers of clothes. It's winter, you know. How should I even check their bodies? What if the mark's on their butt? Can't ask me to pull their pants down, can you?"

"That's up to you." Letho patted his shoulder. "You did well in the House of Cardell, boy. Use your advantage here."

Roy sat on the bed and thought about it, and then he came up with a plan.

"Try keeping this mission a secret. Don't let them catch you," he warned Roy sternly. "But if you find anyone trustworthy here, getting some help is fine. As long as they don't have the mark."

"I have another question." Roy asked, "What if the target's a woman?"

"The people who'd go into the forest and come into contact with the leshen are men. They're your prime targets." Letho paused. "If the target isn't among the men, then go for the women. You're young, and you look cleaner than the dwarven children. I don't think the women would complain even if you do anything."

Roy thought about the hairy, bearded women, and a chill ran down his spine, but not because of the cold. He shook his head, praying that the target was not a woman. "What does that mark mean? The note doesn't have anything about it."

Letho licked his lips. "Alright, listen. The stronger a monster is, the more land it occupies. This monster's hunting grounds range from Svanthor to the valley near Mount Carbon. It must be incredibly old, and incredibly strong. Or at least, I've never encountered that kind of monster before. I have to prepare for the worst. It's awakened a spell that's related to the mark. It can take the mark's host's life force, and revive on the spot even if I kill it, so you have to find the bearer of the mark. And the bearer's submitted to it, so they're probably a slave now. You must not get caught, at any costs."

Roy trembled, and the image of a gigantic monster with antlers, white skull, algae on its body, and gnarly limbs appeared in his mind. So, it is a leshen.

Chapter 56

Leshens were creatures that came after the Conjunction of the Spheres, and they lived in mountains and forests. They had wild beasts as companions, and they could summon them anytime, anywhere. They could also control plants, and because of their special appearances, ignorant villagers formed a religion around them, worshipping them, and they even made sacrifices.

"But most folklore told of leshens' kindness. They guide lost travelers and save people from bandits." Roy had to say that. The knowledge he gained from books wasn't as fascinating as the authentic accounts of a witcher.

"You subscribe to that nonsense, boy? Leshens slowly suck the life force out of everything in its territory until nothing is left."

"But they won't attack humans by their own volition, right?"

"No absolutes, remember? Some coexist with humans on the surface, but some see humans as their mortal enemies." Letho seemed to dread facing a leshen. "The leshen residing in the Mahakams is an ancient one. I'd say it must have altars in the forest that strengthen it. My job from tomorrow on is to destroy the altars one by one to weaken the leshen."

Roy started worrying for Letho. The leshen seemed to be stronger than he'd anticipated. "Are you sure you can kill it? Steel weapons won't work on leshens, right?"

"The oils, bombs, and potions are here. Now it's in the hands of fate," Letho said sombrely. "If I don't manage to come back, leave the Mahakams and find a way to rendezvous with Auckes and Serrit. They'll continue your training."

Roy stopped breathing for a moment. It sounds like he's going to die. "Why don't we leave right now and take the long route through Rivia and Upper Sodden?"

"You think you can enter and leave this place as you please? Mount Carbon is not an inn." Letho shook his head. "Brovar won't let us leave unless I've met the leshen."

The servant sent their dinner that night. Even though the fortress was extravagant, its living conditions were worse than Seville's residence in Aldersberg. Aside from two beds, an oil lamp, and an old clock, there was nothing else in the bedroom. Luckily, the place wouldn't be too hot or too cold no matter the time of the year, just like a cave.

The dinner wasn't too bad either. Two portions of charred grilled meat, frozen bread filled with icicles, frozen fruits, nuts, and honeyed wine. It was… interesting, to say the least.

Roy gave half of his meat to Letho. "Have a bit more, Letho. This could be your last supper." Before Letho's face fell, Roy added, "Oh, I'm joking. But there's no point in going to Cintra if you aren't coming with me. I'd rather travel to Novigrad and run the business with my parents." Roy paused, clenched his fists, and resolve gleamed in his eyes. "You led me on this path, Letho, so see through it."

Letho stopped chewing before continuing calmly. When Roy exited meditation the next morning, Letho was rubbing oils on his sword and short swords, his gaze unbelievably tender, as if he were looking at his lover.

He was a muscular man, but his hands moved swiftly, precisely. The grey cloth had a patch of yellowish-brown substance on it, and for some reason, there was strength in Letho's movement when he wiped his sword. Roy watched the whole process. A row of items were laid out before the witcher. They were his potions, decoctions, oils, and bombs. "Same old. This is for you. Just in case. Keep it safe." Letho handed Roy a small blue bottle with yellow rubber bands around it.

"What bomb is this?" Roy was delighted. He could still remember the effects of Dancing Star back in the fight against the childhunter.

"A dimeritium bomb. It can stop the leshen from casting its spell. Equally effective against witchers and sorcerers."

"Anything else?"

Letho pointed at another item and explained patiently, "This here is relict oil. Increases damage against leshens. Same oil I applied to my sword. The green one is the devil's puffball. Trips the leshen up."

Kaerwen came for Letho not long after, though he still looked sullen. Roy was taken by Sanchez on a tour around Mount Carbon.

Mount Carbon had no use for useless dwarves, so everyone had a job. There were blacksmiths, wine makers, hunters, supervisors, those who took care of the residents' daily lives, and more. If we were to liken Mount Carbon to a nation, Brovar would be the king, while the other elders would be the ministers.

Sanchez was one of the servants under the command of the king. He took care of the guests and other elders' daily lives. He wore a white robe, had his hair and beard tied up nicely, and his face was well kept. Compared to the other dwarves, he was more feminine and elegant. Roy glanced at his lower body as they walked together. The beard's still full. I wonder if the 'eunuch' here is castrated like in other nations.

"Kaerwen led you around the forge yesterday, so I'll be taking you to the wine cellar. You can have a taste of our wine. How does that sound?"

Roy shrugged. "Put the wine aside. Tell me more about Mount Carbon's situation."

Sanchez nodded. As they went on, he explained softly, "I don't think I need to explain what's going on in the first floor and basement. The second floor is the blacksmiths' dwellings, storerooms, and jails. Third floor is the elders' dwellings. The forts outside the main one are where the guards and supervisors stay."

"What about the other miners and their families? Where do they live?"

"You should have seen them on your way here. They live in the caves in the mountain."

"How many residents do you guys have?" Roy asked. Sanchez only smiled. Roy asked another question. "Do the miners and hunters live nearby?"

Sanchez thought it was a weird question to ask, but he said yes.

There's no way I can check everyone, so the first thing I have to do is narrow down my scope. The only dwarves who would go into the forest are hunters or miners, which means one might have come into contact with the leshen and been marked. The women, blacksmiths, and wine makers live inside. I don't think they'd have the chance to venture into the forest.

His first order of business was to focus on the hunters and miners. "Let's forget about the wine. The valley's too cold for me. Can you take me to the bathhouse? I need to take a hot shower to warm myself up."

Sanchez thought it was weird for Roy to shower that early in the morning, but he said nothing. "Of course. Come with me, please."

Chapter 57

"Ah, that's the spot." Steam rose from the bath, and Roy leaned against the sides, resting his eyes. Mount Carbon was freezing, but coal and firewood were abundant. Water was too, so the bathhouse ran around the clock. The blacksmiths, guards, and miners would hop into the hot bath after a day's work to wash away their grime and fatigue.

It was around nine o'clock. Aside from Roy, only a few dwarves who just got off from the graveyard shift were in the bath. They covered themselves in towels, but the towels couldn't hide their round bellies, muscular arms, and hairy chests. If Roy ignored their faces, he would have thought he was sharing a bath with gorillas.

Roy, on the other hand, had smooth skin and looked fairer than the dwarves, who were mostly dark. Because of that, the dwarves would glance at him from time to time. If it weren't for the fact they were straight, Roy would've scampered off. Even so, he tightened his towel and listened closely.

The pair of dwarves near him started gossiping about him. "Is that a human boy? There's no hair on his chest, nor does he have a beard. There's nothing manly about him. In fact, he's ugly." He proudly caressed his beard that was floating on the water.

"Human males are hairless pups. None of our women would fancy them, but that's not an excuse to let your guard down. They've never stopped eyeing our women, but we won't let them get away with it."

"Alright, shut up! D'ya want to get slammed in the prison? He's Elder Brovar's guest. And an esteemed one at that."

Roy was unsure about how to feel after hearing that. His view on aesthetics were that of a human's, so there was no way he'd be interested in female dwarves who had beards and were as buff as bulls. He'd rather have a sorceress.

So the rumors are true. Male dwarves are inexplicably paranoid and always worry about their women getting kidnapped by 'evil' outsiders. Probably has something to do with their birth rate. It's super low, and the women who are supposed to bear the children are invaluable resources for everyone in Mount Carbon.

As he let his mind wander, Roy stole some glances at the dwarves. He couldn't stare at them openly in case they took it the wrong way. The dwarves in the bath had strong hips, sturdy bodies, big legs, and strong shoulders. And something long hung between their crotches. These guys may be short, but one part of them isn't.

I wonder who the leshen marked. Roy glanced back and forth for a few minutes, but it was torture for him. He shook his head. I'm going to get traumatized if this keeps up. Gotta take a break.

Looking at hotties would be a treat, but facing stout dwarves was nothing short of getting subjected to torture. About an hour later, Roy felt a gust of wind blow behind him, and the sounds of footsteps neared. What came next was like a scene of horror to him.

"B-bennett, you o-oaf. D-did you get f-fatter? Y-you're going to b-become a pig a-at this rate!"

"Barney, you retard! Did you just insult the Shield of Mount Carbon? I challenge you to a duel!"

"Oy, who you calling a retard, you fucker?! Only we get to call him that. You want a taste of this knuckle sandwich, you fuck?"

The towels were off, and the naked dwarves got into a brawl. Chest slammed against chest, bats swung against bats, and wieners… Well, let's just say they had a sword fight.

"You're a barbaric retard Maki took from the wilds, shithead!"

"Y-you're just a l-little shit a squirrel shitted, fucker! Y-you're so thirsty you f-fuck reindeers e-every night!"

"Retard!"

"D-dammit." Barney was exhausted from the fight on more levels than one. He wiped the sweat off his head and turned around. What he saw shocked him. "H-hey, boss, t-that guy looks f-familiar."

Roy started sweating when he heard the familiar stuttering. Curse my luck. I just have to bump into them here of all places. He closed his eyes and slid underwater. The footsteps stopped behind him, and he felt ripples around him.

As the water splashed, one buff dwarf came into the bath. Barney pulled him out of the water with enthusiasm, his eyes wide. "I-it's you!"

"You got the wrong person, mate."

Barney's face was red from excitement, but he couldn't say anything no matter how much he tried. "Alright, stop teasing him." Reagan Dalba and his companions entered the bath. He sounded annoyed about what Roy had done. A moment later, the four dwarves surrounded Roy, their eyes solely on him, their breathing heavy.

"We'll settle this later, Bennett! Don't think you've won!" the dwarf shouted at the guy they were fighting against earlier.

"Scared, you coward?!"

"Fuck off!"

The dwarves found themselves kissing their companions and were in each other's arms when they regained consciousness. Shocked, they checked their bodies, but nothing was wrong. Still, it was a humiliating experience. When they saw the perpetrator in the bath, they let the personal grudge slide first.

"You're Roy, aren't you? To think we thought you a friend. I think you owe us an explanation."

Roy forced a smile and shifted the topic. "That was awesome of you guys. Those weaklings stood no chance against you. If they'd tried to escape even a moment later, they would've been messed up."

"A-at least you have taste."

"Roy, just because you're the elder's guest doesn't mean you can do anything you want." Reagan waved his excited companions down. "The wine's great, though we could do without the extra ingredient. It is fifty-year-old Mahakaman liquor." Reagan licked his lips, reminiscing the taste of the wine. "But you have to return my crossbow to me. That's my brother's gift, and it's special to me. You're too weak to use it anyway."

"Reagan, I'm sorry about your loss, but it's not here. You can search anywhere you want, even the bedroom."

Reagan kept quiet.

"B-boss, I-I'm not taking t-this anymore!"

"Why don't we beat him to a pulp?"

Roy frowned, thinking if he should give the weapon back, since he did feel guilty about taking something of great sentimental value to someone.

"So it seems you're taking my treasure away no matter what, Roy." Reagan cupped some hot water and splashed it on his arm. "Fine. We'll settle this with Mount Carbon's custom, then."

"Mount Carbon's custom?"

"Gwent, weapons, and wine. They're what we love the most. We hold three matches if we ever come across anything that can't be settled with a conversation." Reagan continued. "The one who wins two out of three matches gets to keep the crossbow."

"So a duel then?" Roy changed his mind. Since he didn't see the mark on them, that meant the dwarves were innocent. Gaining allies out of them would be good for Roy, since staking out at the bathhouse alone would be too inefficient. Having helpers would go a long way, though he still had the chills at the thought of their naked bodies.

"Ah, so you do have it." Reagan laughed. "Don't worry, it won't be a four on one. We won't stoop so low against an outsider. It's a one-on-one duel for a total of three matches. We can start right away if you're fine with it. The warm bathhouse is perfect for Gwent."

Roy smacked a beautiful deck on the side of the bath, and he grinned in excitement. Since they're going to do this, I have no reason to hold back. "I don't lose when it comes to Gwent. Come."

Reagan and his companions looked at one another weirdly. "Get the board, Drew. Alright, we're counting on you now, Dave. Just win like you usually do. Get everything from him."

Chapter 58

"Put your back into it. Yeah, that's the spot."

Roy sat in the bath, getting massaged gently by the stuttering dwarf, Barney.

Barney was smiling sycophantically as he massaged Roy. "H-how does t-that feel now?"

"Not bad. You can probably start a career as a professional masseur here."

"W-what about my d-debt then?"

"Later. You're not going to run away from it."

Barney wiped his sweat off. Never in his life had he seen someone play Gwent like Roy had. The boy would always come up with the most surprising tactics every time, catching his opponent off guard. Even Dave, one of the top ten players in Mount Carbon, lost ten rounds, giving Roy the first win.

Barney didn't believe that was happening, and he wanted to take revenge. But he was too stupid to play, and after his continuous losses, Barney had racked up a debt that amounted to thirty crowns. That was his salary for the whole month.

Reagan was in the bath beside Barney, and he shivered after overhearing the conversation, feeling insulted. "Don't look down on us, boy. Barney's not a deadbeat. We might be a grumpy bunch, but we have something humans don't — hot looks, manliness, loyalty, and integrity! Okay, that's technically four things, but that's not the point! Point is, anyone who tries to be a deadbeat will live their lives in shame!"

Roy nodded in approval. He'd heard of the Mahakaman dwarves' loyalty. Even though they loved their crowns, they wouldn't abandon their friends, and they held their promises. Zoltan Chivay was a prime example of how a dwarf would risk his life for his friends. And thanks to their integrity, dwarves ran a lot of good businesses. Cianfanelli, Giancardi, and Vivaldi were the top dwarven families in the banking world. All the biggest cities like Vizima, Beauclair, Vengerberg, Novigrad, Dragon Mountains, and even Blue Mountain, had their banks. They had business in almost every city in the north.

It was because of that Roy went along with the rules. If his opponents were either human or elf, he'd be denied his winnings in the same circumstances.

"You won the first match, Roy. Do you have the guts to continue this in the archery range?"

"Is that a challenge I hear? I accept it. It's still early anyway." Roy had always wanted to see a dwarven crossbowman in action. They changed into their clothes, but before they left, Roy stopped Barney. "Barney, I can waive this debt if you do me a favor."

"I-I'll do it!" Barney was obviously excited about the opportunity. Thirty crowns was a big amount for him.

"Stay here and tell everyone who comes to go to the archery range. Remember this."

Barney wondered why Roy would make that request, but he didn't argue. Instead, he agreed to it readily.

They went out of the bathhouse, walked across the plaza, and journeyed to the range behind the main fortress. Suddenly, Roy had a feeling he was being watched, and he frowned. But when he looked behind him, nobody was there.

It was already morning, and dwarves were already going about their business. The males were wearing thick, dirty coats and holding their mining implements as they went to the mine outside. The females were holding gigantic containers on their heads, going to and from the marketplace in the plaza's corner.

Not every dwarf had a long beard. Most of the males were bushy, and less than twenty percent of the females were as hairy as the males. Some looked decent, but they were still stout nonetheless. Not my type.

"Reagan, if I'm right, working in the mountains isn't very lucrative, is it?" He thought all the dwarves would be filthy rich, since they had a treasure trove beneath their feet, but the Gwent matches told him otherwise.

"Exactly," Reagan answered without fear. "Most dwarves only make around sixty crowns a month. Wine and gear maintenance takes a cut, and we're left with not much money to spend."

"What about the dwellings? Are they expensive?" Roy cast his gaze to the caves. "How long do you have to save up for one?"

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, my friend," Reagan replied proudly. "We don't have to spend a crown on our caves. The elders give every adult dwarf a cave free of charge, but it'll be taken back if the owner leaves the mountain without permission."

Roy was envious of it. The elders go to great lengths to preserve the population, huh? "Are there many dwarves who try to make a living in the outside world then?"

"No, but there are some who do it every year."

Eventually, they arrived at the fighting plaza. It was a fenced space, albeit a gigantic one, and it was divided into a few parts. At the end of the plaza was the archery range, and there were targets carved into humanoid shapes. There was also a weapons training center filled with racks of weapons, as well as a fenced ring used for close combat matches.

There were twenty dwarves occupying a certain training center, engaging themselves in their daily practice. They were wearing padded armor and swung their weapons as per the instructor's order. The dwarves might've been stout, but they swung the two-handed weapons like they were feathers, and Roy could see that the strength was not to be underestimated. They were like moving fortresses, for their armor could block any arrows, and the heavy weapons turned their weakness into a strength. If they were to engage in close quarter combat, Roy would lose in a matter of seconds. His combat abilities were shit.

Roy didn't have many things to rely on in combat. His best bet was long-range shooting with his crossbow, but even though his accuracy was bolstered by Perception, his shots weren't powerful enough, and that was including Massacre and Crossbow Mastery's increased damage.

If he shot anywhere else aside from his enemy's face, the damage he dealt would be negligible. His effective range was also a weakness. In most cases, he could make perfect shots within a one hundred-feet range, but if his enemy was outside that range, the wind would affect his shot too much.

He needed training, and Reagan, whose Crossbow Mastery was Level 5, was the perfect example to learn from. The targets in the archery range were placed at different distances. Once everyone had come in, Reagan raised his hand to feel the air for a moment.

This guy checks the wind's speed and direction with the hairs on his hand?

"Archery's best done on breezy days, or one without wind. Come, my friend. Show me what you got. I want to see if your archery skills are as great as a witcher's sword fighting."

Reagan borrowed two identical crossbows and tossed one to Roy, while he held the other one.

"You're young, and your hands aren't that calloused. I can see it hasn't been long since you've started training. There'll be no time limit, then." Reagan puffed out his chest confidently. "We'll start with the target thirty feet away, and then you'll move to the right for the next one, but the distance will increase. We get ten shots each, and the one who manages to land the most shots wins. Deal?"

Roy hesitated, and he nodded. "I'll go first."

"Do as you wish."

The crossbow and bolts Reagan handed him were made to dwarven standards. The bow was four feet long, a lot bigger than Roy's Gabriel, and it was heavier too. The crossbow was made of pine wood, and it was a deep brown due to repeated usage. The draw weight was sixty pounds, making it slightly difficult for Roy to reload the crossbow.

Roy started with the target thirty feet away. He held the crossbow with his left hand, his right index finger docked on the trigger, and he took a standing stance. Roy took a deep breath, then raised his crossbow, aiming at the target using his right eye. Then he heaved a sigh, and in that split second, the crossbow had just been lowered to eye level, and he fired his shot.

The bolt pierced through the air and slammed into the target thirty feet away, embedding itself deeply into the bullseye thanks to the crossbow's strength. Reagan didn't look surprised, while Roy heaved a sigh. He swung his slightly numb arm and prepared for the second shot. After that, he kept on shooting, and he hit the bullseye for the sixty-feet, ninety-feet, and the hundred-and-twenty-feet target.

The continuous shooting was taking a toll on Roy's forearm and legs. Since the crossbow was much heavier than the one he normally practiced with, he wasn't used to it. He never had a chance to compete with someone during his training, and when he finally got the chance, his opponent was Reagan. That had lit the flames within him, but the next few shots had doused it out.

He was slightly off-target for the one hundred-fifty-feet target, and more so for the following one. The next one was even worse, and he was almost out at the eighth target. He missed the shot for the ninth target, and the same thing happened for the tenth. Sweat was trickling down his cheek when he was done, and he looked despondent because of his missed shots.

"Alright, that's it. Your accuracy isn't bad, and your pose is standard. You've received some formal training, but it hasn't been for too long. I have some advice for you."

"Just what I wanted."

Reagan seemed to change into another dwarf when he held the crossbow. He hunched his back slightly and squatted a bit, his gaze sharp. He quickly took out a light bolt from his quiver and loaded his crossbow, and then he fired his shot. His movements were swift and clean, without a single unnecessary move in between.

Roy kept quiet since he realized Reagan was at least twice as fast as him during the reload. Reagan's standing position looked similar to Roy's but upon closer inspection, there were a few differences.

Pay attention to the crossbow. Reagan leaned forward and aimed. Roy took a step back to observe the dwarf and the crossbow.

Three quarters. The crossbow was positioned between the dwarf's collarbone and neck, around the three quarter mark of his body. That was different from Roy's positioning, and Reagan adjusted his stance to one that fit better with his style. Roy couldn't make those adjustments at his level.

Reagan was fast and stable, and he easily fired three shots that hit the bullseye. "Do you have your own crossbow?"

"I do."

"I don't see it on you," he grumbled before pulling the trigger and hitting the bullseye of the two-hundred-ten-feet target. "A good crossbowman keeps his crossbow at his side at all times, even when he's eating or sleeping." A bit of tenderness welled up in his eyes, as if he were reminded of his lover, but even so, that didn't affect his shot. "You have to build up rapport with it, knowing its every nook and cranny. You need to know every inch of it even with your eyes closed. The more you know, the faster you can be in battle."

Reagan was almost whispering, and he kept on shooting with incredible speed. Roy almost couldn't see him aiming, and Reagan had already shot all the shots. All of them hit the bullseye, making Reagan the undisputed winner.

Roy had no arguments about that. Reagan's Perception was on the same level as his, so Reagan couldn't see the targets clearer, but his control over the crossbow was vastly superior.

"You have to take care of your crossbow like it's your arm. A good weapon is a crossbowman's most important thing. Take good care of it." Reagan took a bottle of grease and rubbed the contents on every inch of the crossbow.

"In most cases, a Mahakaman crossbow can last you a few years, but there's one condition. You must keep up its maintenance for every hundred shots you fire. Don't misfire or take too long to reload. It'll cause unnecessary damage and shorten its lifespan. If you don't maintain it, it'll cost you your life if it breaks on the battlefield."

Roy took that advice to heart. No wonder Letho does that to his weapons after every battle. I didn't pay any attention to it before, but now I will. Reagan's advice benefited him a lot. If Crossbow Mastery had an EXP bar, Roy could probably level it up a lot after listening to Reagan.

Roy was reminded of the fact that he never maintained his own crossbow, so he asked for a bottle of maintenance oil from Reagan.

"And now we're even." Reagan laughed, his depression from the Gwent loss erased. "I can't wait for the wine battle. Elder Brovar said you can have all you can drink, yes?" 𝗯𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥.𝐜𝗼𝐦

Roy nodded in amusement. Ah, so he's going for the free booze.

Drew and Dave huddled closer, almost drooling, for wine was one of the things they loved the most.

"Why don't we hold the third match tomorrow morning? We have to stand sentry from noon to dawn."

Roy agreed readily. "Sure. Meet up at the bathhouse." He thought it was a bargain to make some friends with free wine.

"Magnificent! I'm starting to like you, boy! Don't forget to maintain my 'baby' when you go back. I'll kick your arse if you scratch it! Alright, boys! Let's get back to the bathhouse to get that dumbass, Barney."

Chapter 59

The heavy footsteps left deep footprints in the snow. Letho flicked the snow and pine leaves on his shoulder away and looked up at the sparrows who flew away in fear. "How much longer till we get there?"

The dwarf panted and shuffled to Letho, his face red. "About half an hour. We found the body under the oldest pine tree, and it's right in front of us." Kaerwen looked around nervously. "Are you sure it's enough with just the two of us? Why don't we get more people?"

"No. That'd mess everything up. Now tell me about the victim."

"Give me a minute. You're going really fast. How did that boy keep up with you?" Kaerwen put his hands on his knees and rested for a bit. He wasn't as harsh when it was only Letho around. In fact, Kaerwen treated him with respect. "The victim went by the name of Adrian. He's eighty, worked as a miner, and had a son and a daughter back in the mountains." Kaerwen paused for a moment. "The other victims were miners just like Adrian. They were killed on their way back from work."

Letho made the bark of the tree beside him rustle. "Good job keeping it under wraps. The people in Svanthor thought the leshen only claimed four humans."

Kaerwen smiled bitterly. "We have no choice. They won't work if they know that even the dwarves are getting killed. The mines would sustain heavy losses. We have to hide it, or there will be mass hysteria. But that won't last at this rate."

"Bunch of bloodsuckers." Letho shook his head. "And who told the villagers that phantoms did this?"

"No idea, but honestly, I'd prefer that to this. At least phantoms are easier to handle."

They crossed the mountain, and the forest's entrance was starting to disappear behind them. "Letho, are you pitying those villagers?" Letho didn't answer, and Kaerwen continued. "From what I know, witchers are heavily discriminated against in human society. They see you guys as monsters no matter how many real monsters you kill for them, or how many lives you save. You're nothing but a lapdog to them." Kaerwen emphasized the last sentence and quickly looked at Letho, but to his disappointment, Letho showed no change in expression.

"Spit it out. I know you're trying to tell me something."

"Very well then." Kaerwen shrugged, and he hastened. "I think you witchers are like us. We're deviants from those humans. You've been a vagrant for a long time now, taking requests for a living. Haven't you ever thought about settling down?"

"Settling down where?"

"Mount Carbon's a good place." Kaerwen heaved a sigh and told him what he thought, "You'll find our offer irresistible. Your skills and knowledge alone are great assets."

"You're trying to recruit me?" Letho stopped in his tracks and turned around to look Kaerwen in the eyes. "Mahakam and Mount Carbon are too boring for me. I like some excitement in my life. And I have to finish a mission, so I can't stay for long." Then Letho continued into the forest.

Kaerwen was furious about being rejected, but he calmed down quickly. "Let's talk about the situation then. Do you have any idea how to settle it?"

The moment he said that, Letho stopped. He looked back at Kaerwen and put his finger to his lips, and then he crouched like a leopard. They'd walked a mile into the forest, and the pine trees were starting to get denser around them, but it was eerily silent. Not even the chirp of a bird or the howling of the wind could be heard. It was as if they were in a graveyard, and chills ran up their spines.

Kaerwen held his hammer. He had a feeling that the pine trees around them had turned into stiff humans who were staring at them. Kaerwen's hands were trembling, but his morale was still high.

Letho uncorked a potion with his mouth and gulped everything. The veins on his cheeks blackened and his muscles tensed up, not unlike a beast that was hunting its prey. "Watch my back, and I'll watch yours," Letho growled, and he and Kaerwen huddled closer.

Letho traced a triangle in the air, and a faint green light shone around the triangle, much to Kaerwen's shock. And then a magic circle with a twenty feet radius appeared on the snow-capped ground. A moment later, a light yellow shield surrounded Letho. At the same time, howls pierced the air around them, and countless wolves appeared from between the trees.

Their fur was grey, their eyes green. Mist swirled around their snouts, and they crouched, howling as they inched closer to the duo.

"Great Mahakam, what is going on? We've never had such bad luck in our previous investigations."

"Because it perceives us as a threat." Letho unsheathed his steel sword instead of his short swords. The sword that was covered in oil gleamed menacingly above the snow ground. Letho held it around his waist, his muscles taut. He pointed the blade at the wolves, looking like someone who was going to toil on the field. The wolves howled, and Letho taunted, "Come at me. I'm sure your master will be pleased."

Infuriated, the wolf pack pounced on him, but they stepped right into the trap of Yrden, and a green light shone. The wolves who were caught had their movements slowed. They froze in midair and lost a bit of their agility.

Kaerwen slammed the wolf who'd leapt at him down, drenching the ground with blood, and the wolf became pulp. "Fuck yeah!" Kaerwen roared, and he lunged forward, his hammer swinging through the air, sending the beasts who pounced at him flying back.

Letho fought differently. He crouched, his steel sword beside his waist. He put his left foot forward, and his right foot back. He was poised to fight, and at the first chance of attack, he would dart ahead. When a wolf pounced at him, he sliced upward, burying the blade in the wolf's body. And then he slashed downward before taking another step, slicing a second wolf in half, spilling its innards.

He moved his wrist, dislodging the flesh that was stuck to his sword, and then he stepped back into his magical circle, resuming his stance. His plan was to take out the wolves with nothing but stabs and slashes. Every time Letho made an attack, another beast would fall, as if they were taken away by the reaper. They didn't even manage to get close, and corpses were already piling up. The blood splashed on Letho's face made him look more feral.

It didn't take long for them to kill five wolves, but compared to the hundreds of beasts around them, it was nothing. Their brethrens' deaths enraged the remaining beasts, and their attacks became quicker, almost overwhelming the duo.

"Shit. Not even the wine cellar has this many rats." Kaerwen's hair billowed, and he swung his hammer again, sending another one flying. He heaved a sigh and made a hasty step backward, but one of the wolves noticed the opening, and then it tried to chomp down on the dwarf's left leg. But before it could, Letho stabbed it.

"Still keeping up, chap?"

"I'm fine. Worry about yourself." Kaerwen gripped his hammer with trembling hands, and he smashed another wolf to a pulp.

Letho scanned the battlefield. Alright, there are around twenty or thirty of them here. They'd managed to whittle it down to the number he wanted, and he tossed the canister on his belt into the pack.

Then, the bomb exploded twenty feet away from them, and the sound of explosions roared through the forest, the flames engulfing dozens of wolves. The air around them was filled with howls and the scent of burning flesh, while the ground was soaked with blood. More than half the wolves around them had been killed by the explosion alone, and charred corpses fell onto the snow. Some managed to survive, but they scurried back to their pack, their fur still burning.

"Holy Mahakam, that was a perfect bombing!" Kaerwen praised, forgetting all about his nerves, but it wasn't the end of it.

Letho turned around and drew an Aard sign in the air, sending the wolves that were pouncing toward him flying back, creating a space between them and the wolves. Then he tossed another bomb, but instead of exploding instantly, the canister smashed into pieces, and white smoke quickly enveloped thirty beasts.

He pulled Kaerwen closer to him before embedding his sword into the ground and quickly making a sign, and then he pushed it outward. A moment later, flames spread out in a cone, igniting the smoke. The gas that covered the beasts started exploding, causing a chain reaction, and then howls and rumbles traveled across the pine forest.

A few moments later, the howls got quieter, as most of the wolves had been killed. The remaining survivors ran away with their tails between their legs. Half the wolves were dead, while some were on the verge of death. Only one was standing tall amidst the carnage. When he was sure they were safe, Letho stopped maintaining Quen, and his shield broke into pieces.

Chapter 60

Once they killed the wolves, the duo went on with their mission, though Kaerwen kept quiet all the way because of his shock. But when they drew closer to their destination, he finally couldn't keep his curiosity away. "Letho, are all witchers this strong?" Letho didn't answer, but that only made Kaerwen respect him more.

They made it through another hill and arrived at the place Adrian died. It was the same scene Letho had seen at the mountain's base. The branches came together to form a spike, and he could smell the stench of beast excrements under the snow. Letho squinted.

Kaerwen explained. "There are eight victims, and they were disemboweled by these spikes. I don't understand why it did this. Does the way its victims die have a special meaning to it?" Kaerwen asked.

But Letho didn't answer the question. "According to your testimony, Svanthor suffered four deaths, while Mount Carbon had the same number of deaths during the last three months, making it a total of eight."

"No. It has been four months. The first death was a Mahakaman dwarf."

"So one victim every fortnight or so?"

Kaerwen pinched his beard. "Now that you say it, I think that's the case."

Letho heaved a sigh. "Alright, I have a guess. You'd find a new body after every full moon?"

Kaerwen gasped. "Hey, that's right!"

Letho turned solemn. "Then that proves my guess. This is an ancient ritual, a sacrificial one that comes from the other dimension. The killer uses flesh as bait to activate the forest's power. Among the victims, the ones who died on the night of the full moon would create a magical circuit with the previous victim, and the killer would use that to create a permanent totem to strengthen itself."

"What does that mean?"

"This is the fourth totem."

Kaerwen was surprised, but only for a moment. "So you're saying that the killer's been powered up four times. This is going to be a problem."

Letho's face fell. "That's why we have to destroy the totems one by one. They're its limbs. Once we start pulling them out, we'll see how long it'll last."

Kaerwen thought of another problem. "But the forest stretches for hundreds of miles. Finding four totems here is going to be impossible."

"Not exactly. Since it's making circuits, the totem must be in between two corpses, so you'll have to take me to the nearest crime scene."

Kaerwen nodded in respect. "As expected of a professional. You managed to dig up something we failed to for the past few months."

They left the spot and moved toward the next one. While they were on the way there, Kaerwen said, "The forest in the Mahakams is filled with beasts. The killer could have used animals as sacrifices, so why did it target humans and ancient races?"

Letho was always patient when it came to knowledge about monsters. "Humans might fight among themselves, kill their brethren, lie, cheat, steal, and do every evil deed in the books, but they are of a higher class than the beasts. Well, normal beasts, that is. In other words, the magical energy in human flesh is higher than in normal beasts, so of course all the monsters would love it."

Kaerwen continued his questioning. "So now that it has four totems, isn't it at its strongest? If we march right up its totem, it's like we're saying we want to kick its arse. What if it shows up? Won't that be dangerous? Why don't I go and bring some warriors back?" Then he thought his cowardice was embarrassing, so he explained, "It's safer to have a bigger group. Since we have a lead right now, we don't have to risk our lives any further."

"Don't worry." Letho stopped. "If it shows up and I can't win, we can always run. I'm sure we can outrun it. Besides, if it does show up, it can't stay in the Mahakams any longer, because I'd know where to hunt it, and how to kill it. Also, it's an experienced, ancient, and cunning monster. It won't come out that easily."

"I-I see. Tell me if something comes up so I can prepare myself."

𝒃𝙚𝒅𝒏𝙤𝙫𝒆𝒍．𝙘𝒐𝙢

They kept walking for another hour, and then it was noon. The snow on the ground was decorated with a few long lines of footsteps, and cold winds howled through the forest, making the dwarf shiver.

When his necklace started humming, Letho held it down. Kaerwen stood at the ready with his hammer, and he crouched down, ready to fight. But there was nothing around him when he looked around. "Where is it? Where's the totem?" All he could see was snow and forest. There was nothing like a totem there.

Letho went up to a gigantic pine tree and saw a peculiar mark on the big trunk. "Antlers and spider webs? What is this?" Kaerwen huddled closer and mumbled, and Letho went up to another pine tree and smacked it. And then he went for a third, then a fourth. Kaerwen saw the same mark on all four pine trees, and then he realized it formed a twenty-feet square around them.

A chill ran up his spine, and he tensed. "Are we in some freaky magic circle?"

"Got it." Letho turned his back to Kaerwen and looked up, and then he pointed at the sky. Kaerwen looked at where he was pointing, and his jaw dropped.

"What in the holy Mahakams is that?"

Fifty feet above them, the four pine trees' leaves were squashed together, snow piling above them, blocking out the sunlight. In the center of the trees, a wooden, fusiform stake hung. It looked like a beehive from afar, but it was ancient and decrepit.

Holes dotted the stake's surface, as if chewed out by termites. It looked as if a single touch would turn it to ash, and on top of the stake, a single, gnarly antler protruded from a hole. Tiny bones hung from it, forming ancient trinkets.

"That's… That's…"

"That's the totem." While Kaerwen was still in shock, Letho was already standing underneath the totem, raising his hand to estimate the distance between them. Then he blew into his hands and dug away at the ground with his sword. The snow and soil flew everywhere, and then a gigantic antler symbol was revealed on the floor. It glowed an eerie red, looking like a scar on the ground, and it radiated heat.

Letho brushed his hand across the mark and commented, "This rune here is the core of the totem." Then he made the sign of Igni and shot a stream of fire that expanded conically, burning the mysterious mark.

On the other hand, Kaerwen was stuttering, holding his hammer as he looked around in confusion. As Letho went on with the burning, Kaerwen noticed something shocking. Four transparent tentacles appeared from the rune in the center, wriggling and squirming around. Eventually, they slithered into the pine trees that had the weird symbols on them, and then drops of black fluid started flowing from the tree. Eventually, black blood started gushing out of the trees.

The burning went on for thirty seconds. When Letho finally stopped casting Igni, a loud pop was heard, and the totem that was hanging in the air fell down. Kaerwen went to take a look and noticed that the totem had turned from brown to black, not unlike used charcoal. And it was already starting to turn into ash.

"Done." Letho heaved an exhausted sigh and sliced the totem. Smoke and ash burst into the air, and a few moments later, the totem disappeared as if it had never been there before.

Chapter 61

Night descended, and the moon's silvery light bathed the land. Nobody was left in the bathhouse anymore as Roy left, his skin red. Mount Carbon was majestic in the day, but eerie at night. The fortress that provided safety to the dwarves looked like a demon dwelling in the dark, but the valley's entrance was brightly lit. The bowmen and crossbowmen were standing sentry in the watchtowers that flanked the valley.

Sconces hung on the front doors of every building between the plaza and the main fortress, providing good vision. Heavily armored dwarves were patrolling everywhere, and Roy bumped into the armed patrol twice on his way to the guest room from the bathhouse, much to his surprise.

"That's some heavy patrolling."

Letho had already changed his bloody armor for his pajamas when Roy arrived at the guest room. He was meditating on the bed. "Did you get anything, boy?"

"I made a few acquaintances, my hands got blisters, and I'm almost traumatized." Roy heaved a sigh and hopped onto the bed. He put his hands behind his neck and crossed his legs. "Try observing naked, hairy dwarves for a whole day and you'll know what I'm saying."

Letho actually smiled for once.

"So what did you find in the forest after leaving me here?"

Letho told him about the events that transpired, and when he got to the part where he killed almost a hundred wolves, Roy sighed. I lost a few hundred EXP just like that. But he could imagine how precarious the situation must've been. With how weak he was, the wolves would've picked him clean before Letho could even do anything.

Even so, he was still dissatisfied and curious. "Why do you want me to find out who's marked? If the elder just locks everyone up and checks them, the marked one would be caught in no time. There's no way he would realize what was happening." Roy looked at Letho, but he was still meditating calmly.

"Remember what I told you yesterday? Some residents in the mountains worship the leshen as god. You can't be sure there's nobody else who's brainwashed aside from the one who's marked. It'd be impossible to hide a sweep from everyone no matter how secretive Brovar would be. Once the search was launched, the leshen's followers would just escape, making it harder to kill it."

Roy kept quiet before asking, "What if it's the Svanthor villagers who got marked? I can't just go out there and investigate. It's too far from the mountain."

"I'll look into that tomorrow, but don't hold your breath. Leshens love to live in mountains and forests, and they won't stay too far from the people they marked. Svanthor is a bit too far from the mountain." He picked up a piece of charcoal and drew on the ground. "And there's something I want you to see. After destroying the totem, I asked Kaerwen about the victims and found out exactly where they died." He drew a rough sketch of the mountain, and the fortress was located in it. "These are the places where the victims died." He then made eight black dots on the map. "Notice anything wrong with it?"

Roy looked closely for a while, but he didn't get anything. The crime scenes were spread throughout the mountain at random and seemed to have no rhyme or reason to it.

Letho explained. "The spots where the killings happened are a distance away from where the victims lived. In other words, they were shepherded to that particular spot before they were killed, and the leshen didn't choose the spots at random."

Then Letho made four lines according to some pattern, linking one dot to the other. Then he pointed at one spot between two dots. "This is where I destroyed the totem today."

I see. Roy said, "You should probably have guessed where the other totems are, then." Letho kept linking the dots and lines in a pattern, and eventually, Roy noticed the thing that was starting to take shape. It was an expanding web, and a vague pair of antlers. A terrifyingly eerie mark.

"The leshen is slowly including the mountain base up to the fortress in its totem. Is it trying to put the whole area under its control?"

Letho nodded. "I've never seen a more ambitious leshen. In most cases, the most it can do is take over a village. That's the extent of a leshen's power, no matter how ancient or formidable it is. This one… This one is trying to control a place that houses thousands of residents.

"Leshens are ancient creatures with great wisdom. It's quite baffling that they'd make such a foolish move. No matter how powerful it is, it is still only one leshen. Mount Carbon can easily crush it. Unless…"

Roy guessed, "Unless its believers and the marked one aren't the leshen's only weapon."

Letho dusted his hand off and made an unsure guess. "Or maybe the dwarves aren't as united as they seem. Maybe there are some other forces aside from the leshen that can cause some trouble for Brovar. And they could be giving the leshen a hand in its plan. They're hiding in Mount Carbon, working with the leshen to carry out the plan, and that's why they managed to kill so many dwarves without setting off the alarm."

"Should we tell Brovar about this?"

"This is pure conjecture. We have no evidence or target. What can we even tell him?" Letho had vetoed it. "Just pay attention to your surroundings and see if there's anyone suspicious. But remember to find the marked one first, since our primary goal is to take out the leshen here. Everything else comes next. And be careful."

"I understand."

Letho went back to meditate after telling Roy what he'd needed to know. The battle earlier had sapped much of his strength, and he needed to rest up as fast as possible.

Roy lay on the bed, sorting out the thoughts that were swirling in his head. He took the dwarf's crossbow and his hand crossbow out to maintain them. And then he remembered that Reagan cared about the crossbow a lot. Is this crossbow special? He cast Observe on it and actually saw the weapon's details.

'Blood Brothers (Reagan Dalba was gifted this crossbow by his brother, Paul Dalba, during Reagan's coming of age. This is the last gift Paul gave Reagan before he ventured out to be Yarpen's follower).

Type: Crossbow.

Materials: Pine wood, steel, tendon, hemp.

Details: Weighs fifteen pounds and measures four feet. Has a draw weight of fifty pounds and an effective range of two hundred feet.'

'Gabriel

Type: Hand crossbow

Materials: Mulberry wood, tendon, hemp

Details: Weighs five pounds and measures two feet. Has a draw weight of twenty pounds and an effective range of a hundred feet.' 𝚋𝚎ｄ𝚗ｏｖ𝚎𝚕．ｃｏ𝚖

"So Reagan only cares about this crossbow because of its sentimental value. It's not that much better than any Mahakaman crossbow." Roy started rubbing the grease on every inch of the crossbow, just like how Reagan did it. Once he was done doing it to both crossbows, he placed Blood Brothers in his inventory and held on to Gabriel as he started meditating.

"Always keep the crossbow by my side huh? It's dumb, but I hope it works."

Chapter 62

Roy asked for a barrel of Mahakaman liquor after meeting up with Reagan and his companions in the bathhouse the next day. Since he knew nothing about Mount Carbon, he needed some locals to help him out, and alcohol was the best way to make friends out of them. He thought Reagan was a great person to be friends with since he hadn't flown into a rage despite having his crossbow taken from him.

The five of them went to Reagan's cave. Despite the fact that Reagan was the best crossbowman around, his cave was stark. There wasn't anything aside from a bed, table, chair, and oil lamp. Not even a cauldron was in there, so obviously he never cooked himself. Wow, and I thought only single men in my world lived so simply. Didn't think it'd be true in another world. Guess he needs to get a girlfriend.

Reagan wiped away the dust on the table with his sleeve before placing a dozen two-ounce cups filled with alcohol. The aroma wafted across the cave, and the dwarves indulged themselves in the sweet scent of liquor. Wow, these guys look like Vivien's dad. Roy never understood the magic of wine. He never knew why it captivated the souls of so many.

"I'll be your match for the day." Reagan beamed at the wine. "No tricks here, and the rules are simple. We'll start at the same time, and the match ends when one of us drops. The one who drinks the most wine wins." 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐧𝗼𝘃𝐞𝐥．𝗰𝐨𝗺

"B-boss, you h-had a match y-yesterday, so y-you should sit t-this one out. R-rest up." Barney pulled him back, his eyes filled with anticipation. "I-I'll do it f-for you."

"No you won't, you dumbass. Remember the last time we drank? You were out cold after three shots." Drew pushed Barney's face away, and then he rubbed his hands. "Reagan and Dave had their chance. Now it's my turn."

"No, I'll do it." Dave didn't want to give up either. "Nobody's better than me in Gwent and drinking here."

"Enough!" Reagan's face fell, and he chided, "Look at yourselves, you idiots! The match hasn't started yet, and you're already acting like wild beasts. How are we supposed to conclude the match if everyone's out cold? No drinking for you until either I or Roy drops!"

Reagan's companions stopped fighting. They didn't like the outcome, but they said nothing, though they craned their necks and stared at the wine on the table. Roy glanced at the wine on the table, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. If it were a fair match, he'd be out cold after two shots. But it wasn't a fair match.

Dwarves took drinking seriously. Reagan sat down and finished one shot in a single gulp, though some of the wine trickled down his beard and fell onto his chest. It looked like a mini waterfall, drenching his coat and pants.

Roy's lips twitched. That's not drinking. It's more like splashing wine around. He wasted a third of the wine, but two can cheat at that game. Roy could put anything up to a certain size in his inventory, though he had to have control over said item. Incidentally, wine could be sent into his inventory too, and that rule could be applied to the wine in his mouth.

He sat on his chair with his legs crossed, just like how Reagan did. Then he held the mug with both hands and glugged it down. A few moments later, he turned the mug around, showing that he'd finished all the wine, much to Reagan's surprise and approval.

Unbeknownst to Reagan, all the wine had been sent into the inventory space, so Roy didn't even feel tipsy after that. Aside from the lingering taste of alcohol in his mouth, that was easier than gulping down a glass of water.

"Looks like I owe you an apology, my friend." Reagan wiped the wine off his beard. "I thought you'd drop from one shot, since you know, you're thin, soft, and you have no beard. Didn't expect you to be a decent drinker. You drink fast, so you're a good guy, Roy."

Wait, what does that have to do with my personality? Roy shook his head, baffled by the dwarf's mindset. He pretended to wipe his lips. "I have a favor to ask, Reagan."

Reagan's eyes widened in surprise as he thought of something, and he refused solemnly. "You can't buy my soul with one barrel of wine. I have principles. Mount Carbon forbids women from marrying outsiders. We can't get a match for you here. It's against our principles, so give up."

Barney arched his eyebrow, agreeing. "Y-yeah. W-we don't even h-have girlfriends o-ourselves. C-can't let you be i-in the lead."

"Oh, you're still single? All of you?" Roy hit the bullseye, and the dwarves fell silent.

"You're wrong! Barney knows a nice lady. If he would just stop being a pussy and ask her out, we'd already be uncles by now."

Yep, they're still single alright. Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, and fifty-nine. They're almost the same age. So, they just came of age, huh?

"Relax. I'm not going to marry anyone here. It'd be great if you could teach me more about the crossbow during my stay here though, Reagan. Your tip back at the archery range helped me out a lot."

Reagan burped, surprised about the request. "You want me to train you?"

Drew, the shortest of them all, quickly asked, "Did you hear anything about him from anyone?"

"Um, did I say anything wrong?"

"No. Just saying you have a great eye for mentors." Drew gave Dave a look, and Dave's eyes gleamed with respect for Reagan. "Aside from being the three-time reigning champion of Mount Carbon in archery, Reagan is also Paul Darba's brother. And Paul was a part of the dragon hunting team along with Yarpen Zigrin. They hunted down Myrgtabrakke and looted precious gems from its treasure trove. There are sapphires that are bluer than the deep blue sea, and diamonds the size of cherries."

The more he said, the prouder the dwarves looked, and Roy's heart skipped a beat. Shit. I'm just trying to get some helpers. I never expected them to be associated with Yarpen. He didn't know who Paul was, but he knew Yarpen. Many years ago, Yarpen Zigrin hunted down Myrgtabrakke, the green dragon, alongside Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg. The hunt ended up being a failure, for Villentretenmerth the golden dragon had saved Myrgtabrakke and her daughter halfway through. Even so, Yarpen managed to lead his team to safety, and that was testament to his strength.

"My answer lies in the wine." Reagan smiled. "You'll have to keep drinking if you want the answer." Then he finished another shot.

Roy looked around at the tipsy dwarves and thought he could probably get them to become his allies. He 'drank' another shot and asked, "Have you heard about the murders around the mountain?"

Reagan's eyes glazed over for a moment, and then he flew into a rage. "Everyone and their mother in Mount Carbon knows about that! That damned murderer ruined four families! He'd better pray we never cross paths, or I'm going to shoot his head!" Then he told Roy formally, "Oh, and don't tell this to any outsider."

Roy shrugged. "Sure, I get it. But do you know anything about the victims? Like if there's something special about them, or if there are any similarities."

"Similarities? Not exactly. Elder Brovar doesn't tell us much." Reagan wiped the wine off his beard. He had no answer to that, so he looked to his companions, but Drew and Dave were equally perplexed.

Surprisingly, Barney clapped his hands. "O-oh, there is! A-Adrian and Fuller both w-worked in the f-fifth mining area. K-Kaerwen Hoger is in charge o-of that place."

"Two of the victims worked in the fifth mining area?" Roy seemed to catch on to something. "Two of them?"

"T-they're from the h-hunting team a-and the patrol team."

"How many mining areas do you guys have?"

"Fifteen."

That's a lot, but the leshen picked two from the fifth mining area. Roy was surprised. Is this just a coincidence? "Two deaths under Kaerwen's supervision? That's one big mistake. Doesn't he need to bear any responsibility?"

"As if," Dave interjected, a look of disdain showing on his face. He whispered, "That fucker's mediocre, but he knows how to lick his boss' shoe, so no surprise he doesn't need to be punished. He's always trying to butter Elder Brovar up. Thanks to his bootlicking, he managed to become the patrol captain of the mining area, and Elder Brovar's super soft on him. He tasked Kaerwen with the job of hunting down the murderer. Kaerwen just came of age, and he has no experience or skill. He can't be the captain. The murderer picked two of his underlings to kill because Kaerwen's easy."

Then he huddled closer to Roy and whispered, "You know, there's a rumor going around among us sentries. Kaerwen's not really Elder Brovar's nephew. We think Kaerwen might be his illegitimate son. Oh, keep this a secret, will you?"

"Alright, Dave, that's quite enough. Are you getting drunk even before you've had anything to drink? Say one more word of nonsense and I'll boot you out of the Mahakams."

"Kaerwen of the fifth mining area." Roy pondered on something, and then he recalled how harsh Kaerwen was to him when they first met. "Does Kaerwen hate humans? Or is he at least prejudiced against them?"

The dwarves shook their heads. "We're not sure about that."

Chapter 63

A few rounds later, Reagan got more tipsy, and Roy's questions became more random, as if they were irrelevant to his mission. "Dwarves weren't the only race to live in the Mahakams, right? I heard gnomes used to live here too, but I didn't see a single one after I came in. Why is that?" Gnomes were the most ancient race to have ever lived. They were shorter than dwarves and better blacksmiths than them.

"Yeah, we had gnomes quite a while back. They're small, and their attitude is bigger than a dragon. But their metallurgy and blacksmithing are top notch." Reagan pinched his beard as he walked down memory lane. "But they moved to Tir Tochair from what I heard. It's their real base. I don't know why they did, but maybe Elder Brovar does."

Well, that's a shame. Looks like I have to postpone my visit with the gnomes. "Oh, right. Have you ever left Mount Carbon, you guys? Have you ever seen the outside world?"

"Eh, nothing good out there." Dave shook his head in disdain. "Mount Carbon has better wine, weapons, and women. And leaving this place means losing my house. As if I can get a wife without a place to live. I'm not going out, ever."

"There you go speaking in absolutes again." Reagan put his mug down, longing sparkling in his eyes. "I'll be venturing out when I'm sixty. That's a few years from now. I'll seek Paul out and train with Yarpen. If I can make a name for myself, I'll have any woman I want when I come back."

Drew nodded, and he changed his goal from wine to women. However, Barney frowned and objected. "I-it's dangerous out there. T-there are bandits, h-humans, and S-Scoia'tael."

Reagan quickly covered his mouth, and Drew and Dave looked shocked. That was the second time Roy had heard about Scoia'tael, the first being his talk with Seville. Seville was Elder Brovar's nephew and the wine dealer in Aldersberg, so Roy wasn't surprised he knew about Scoia'tael, since he must've had a lot of sources.

But Barney's just a small fry here, so where did he hear about that? He sipped some wine, but this time, he didn't cheat, and his face turned red the moment he swallowed it.

Then he continued the conversation. "Have you guys ever seen anyone from Scoia'tael?"

"What's that?" Reagan shook his head. "Oh, you must be hearing things, my friend. Let's drink! Scoia'tael, Shmyatael, am I right?"

"You can talk straight to me, you know," Roy said, half-joking. "I hail from Lower Posada in Aedirn. Ever heard of that place? Dol Blathanna is east of that. I know a group of elves live there, and they see humans as their nemesis because of an ancient grudge. They'd attack us any chance they got. Lie, cheat, steal, rob? That's the least they can do to us. They're some extreme guys, and they rallied behind an elven sorceress, forming an organization. That organization came to be known as Scoia'tael, because they have squirrel tails attached to them, and have the same tattoo."

Scoia'tael's ultimate goal was to erase all the humans in the north and create their own nation. One that was free of the humiliation of the humans. Most of the non-human races in the north were treated with contempt in the slums, especially elves, half-elves, and part-elves. Because of that, more and more non-humans and part-humans joined the organization and raised a flag of rebellion. Aside from elves, they managed to get some dwarves to join too.

"You're young, but you know more than you should for your age." Reagan let Barney go, and Barney gasped for air, sticking his tongue out.

"Well, witchers tend to know more than the common man." Roy smiled. "Witchers aren't human to a certain extent, so you don't have to hide anything from us."

Reagan thought about it for a while before answering. "Like most of the dwarves here, we've never seen any Scoia'tael members. Since their actions go against the rules Elder Brovar has established, they'd be severely punished the moment they'd be found out. Anyone associated with Scoia'tael would be exiled."

"In other words, Elder Brovar is siding with the humans, unlike the elves in Scoia'tael," Roy postulated.

"No, he's neutral. Scoia'tael's banned here because they're trying to get everyone to subscribe to their crazy ideology. On the other hand, humans can be reasoned with." Reagan burped. "That's all I know. Now let's drink!"

Since Reagan refused to talk about it, Roy didn't force him to. Twenty shots later, Reagan Dalba plopped on the table and snored, while Roy was still sober, his eyes gleaming.

"So, I guess this is my win then, my friends."

"Whoa, even Reagan lost. Seems like we underestimated you." Dave looked at Roy's belly in shock, since it showed no change even after downing twenty shots. Weird. Then he blurted, "Do you have some sort of dimension pocket in there?" Roy's heart skipped a beat, and he thought Dave had noticed something. "Just kidding." Dave shook his head. "A promise is a promise. Reagan's crossbow is now yours."

"But it looks like you haven't had enough fun yet. My turn now. I'll make sure you run for the potty," Dave said.

Roy looked around, noticing that the dwarves were raring to go. "Why not. Witchers can drink a ton after undergoing their mutations. I'll show you what I'm made of."

An hour later, three dwarves were snoring in the cave. The only ones still awake were Roy and Barney, though his face was red, and he was almost drunk. 𝒷ℯ𝓭𝓷ℴ𝓋𝓮𝓵.𝒸ℴ𝓶

"Barney, the guys say you're stupid and stutter a lot, but you're obviously the smartest of them all."

"Good eye." Surprisingly, Barney didn't stutter after he got drunk.

"Reagan might have never seen any Scoia'tael members, but I bet you have." Roy's eyes gleamed.

"Nope. Not in the past year." He burped, his face getting redder. "They hung out with bandits and beasts in the mountain's depths in the past. The whole mountain's on the lookout for them."

"The mountain's depths? You mean the forest here?" Roy's voice trembled as he recalled the conversation he'd had with Letho the night before. He wanted an answer, but Barney grinned toothily, and then the dwarf fell asleep.

Roy peered at the dwarves and shook his head. Then he took Blood Brothers out and placed it in front of Reagan before leaving the cave. The crossbow meant a lot to Reagan, and since he helped Roy out, Roy didn't want to take his stuff away.

Chapter 64

On the other hand, Letho took Kaerwen to Svanthor to investigate. The winds were chilly in the north, and Svanthor's chief was shivering at the entrance. When he saw Kaerwen approaching, Casillas quickly bowed with a smile, looking like a lapdog that was welcoming its master.

"Welcome to Svanthor, Mr. Kaerwen. You honor us with your appearance."

He then led the duo into the village. When Kaerwen went past him, he warmly shook his hand. Kaerwen gave a simple shake before pulling his hand back, and then Letho saw Kaerwen wipe his hand on his shirt in disgust.

Casillas smiled sycophantically, and also nervously. "Sir, do you have good news for us? Is the murderer captured?"

"Are you doubting us, Casillas?" Kaerwen glared up at Casillas. Even though he was only at Casillas' chest, Kaerwen looked like a giant who was looking at an ant in disdain. "Cut the crap. This is Letho, the witcher we hired. He has some questions for you, and I want you to answer all of them honestly."

"O-of course. We won't let you down." Casillas turned around to see who the witcher was, and he had a weird look on his face when he saw Letho. That guy's the oddball who refused our request. Heh, he said no to us so easily, but now he's still doing it. Casillas smiled, feeling smug, as if he were saying, "So what if you said no to us? You ended up taking it anyway. So witchers are nothing but the dwarves' lapdogs after all." He stood up straighter, thinking he was better than Letho, though he was just delusional.

The dwarves saw the villagers as scum, the villagers saw witchers as scum, and the dwarves respected the witchers. It was a weird circle, but Letho paid no mind to it. "Is everyone home right now?"

Casillas looked at Kaerwen, and Kaerwen nodded. "Yes. Everyone's here, except those who are working in the mines. They're scared of the phantom. No wait, they're scared of that thing, so they're staying put."

"Go with Kaerwen for now. I'll walk around the village to investigate. I'll get back to you if I need any more answers." Letho scanned the stone houses around him and went around the village, observing the women, children, and elderly inside.

Another day had passed, and Letho and Roy finished their work for the day. That night, they sat in the guest room, talking about their findings. "Did you get anything in Svanthor?"

"I checked everyone, but I got nothing." Letho didn't seem surprised.

"Including the ones in the mines?"

"If Casillas was telling the truth, then I've seen everyone today. Nobody has come into contact with the leshen, and we destroyed the second totem today." Letho rubbed his chin, looking surprised. "But weirdly enough, the leshen didn't send any beasts after us today and just let us do what we did. That's bizarre. By all accounts, it should be retaliating fiercely right now."

"That's good news though. The weaker it is, the higher our chances of victory." Roy recalled what happened that morning and smiled. "I found something today too."

"Let's see what you got. Did you find a clue about the marked one?" Letho was curious.

"No. That's one cunning fellow for sure. I got nothing on that." Roy paused. "But I noticed something off about the case. A dwarf friend of mine told me two of the dwarves that died came from the fifth mining area, and the one in charge of that place is Kaerwen, the one who's helping you in this case.

"You think he's a spy?" Letho closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. He doesn't have the mark, and he helped me destroy the totems. A believer wouldn't desecrate the totem, but since you brought this up, I'll look into it."

Roy continued. "Remember what you said last night about the forces that were helping the leshen? I have some clue about that."

"That's fast, boy." Letho looked surprised. "Who did you get it from?"

"Remember the first dwarves we met? I got along with them, and I think they can be trusted, because they aren't the scheming type." Roy smiled at the thought of the dwarves' drunk look. "Wine's their weakness, and since Brovar said I could have all the wine I wanted, I used that to my advantage. I can't use Axii, so this is all I can do, and they let Scoia'tael slip when they got drunk." Roy turned solemn. "Do you know anything about this organization, Letho?"

Letho frowned. "I spend most of my time in the south, so I never heard anything of the sort. Is it a new organization?"

"It hasn't been long since their establishment." Roy gave it some thought before explaining, "Scoia'tael's made up of some extreme guys. They despise humans, and most of their members are elves or part humans. They're trying to gain more allies, and their main targets are the ancient races, like dwarves, gnomes, or halflings. Anyone that hates humans are their potential allies. They mainly move around Dol Blathanna and anywhere the ancient races are."

"If what you're saying is true, then they might be setting their eyes on everyone in Mount Carbon." Letho mumbled, "They might try to recruit the dwarves."

"Yes, and Elder Brovar, in all his years of ruling the mountain, has remained neutral, coexisting with humans peacefully." Roy said, "He will never allow an extremist group like Scoia'tael to take root here, so he's their enemy." 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘯𝑜𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Roy was reminded of Vernon Ryan, the one who died in a wine barrel. He'd noticed the squirrel tail tattoo on Vernon's heel when he checked, so he knew the revolutionists' leader was a member of that extremist group. Since they have members in Aldersberg, they probably have some here too. The Mahakams isn't that far from Aldersberg.

"If the leshen's goal is to take control of the mountain, then that means Brovar is its enemy too." Roy's eyes shone. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, huh? I see. So Scoia'tael is helping the leshen in the dark. That's why it could attempt that large-scale conspiracy. If I can make one more guess here, I would say Scoia'tael brought that leshen here in the first place."

Leshen was also called spriggan. In a way, it was the protector of forests, so it'd kill the people who destroyed forests and nature. There were also those who were exceptionally close to nature among the elves, like Queen of the Fields, Dana Meadbh. It was possible for Scoia'tael to work with the leshen using that kind of member.

"That's a possibility," Letho concurred."But you can't convince anyone before finding any evidence that Scoia'tael has infiltrated the Mahakams."

"We have to prepare for the worst, so we should tell Brovar about this," Roy insisted. "At least we would have done our part in preparing for whatever that could happen."

Letho gave it some thought. "Fine, we'll do it your way. Meet Brovar tomorrow morning and tell him about this. I'll go on with my investigation. Don't want anyone to find out about our discussion, see."

The next morning came, and Brovar sat on his black throne in the depths of the forge hall, caressing his beard as he stared at the boy before him majestically. The chamber shone resplendently, but all the guards had been dismissed, leaving only him and Roy in it.

"Where did you hear that name, boy?" Brovar's voice was gruff and gravelly, his face trembling, and he sounded upset. "Did those drunken brats tell you about it? I told everyone to keep this a secret! They're getting it from me, letting this secret slip!"

"No, they didn't tell me anything, Elder Brovar," Roy quickly clarified, since he didn't want to drag Reagan and his friends into the mess. "I've heard about Scoia'tael before coming to the Mahakams. Ask Seville if you don't trust me. I talked to him about it when I was in Aldersberg." Roy told Brovar the same thing he told Reagan and his friends.

"Fine, I'll trust you for now. But I'll clarify it later," Brovar murmured. "But it is impossible for Scoia'tael to infiltrate Mount Carbon. It's preposterous. I've exiled those extremists and their supporters a year ago. Until this day, not a single one of them has been spotted by the patrol members or the residents here, or I would have heard about it." Brovar waved Roy down, the red silk of his robe billowing in the air. "Your conjecture is nothing but a byproduct of your overimagination. Never bring this up again." He continued. "Since the leshen is the killer here, your job is to find it, kill it, and bring it as a trophy to me. That's also the witcher's job. But you came here out of the kindness of your heart, and that must be rewarded," Brovar said warmly. "If you have any request, you may speak up now."

Roy rubbed his fingers together, and doubt crossed his mind. What is he trying to say? Why am I getting rewarded when he doesn't believe me?

But he spoke up anyway. "Your excellency, I request for the freedom to travel to and from Mount Carbon, as well as some skilled bodyguards. It's best if they've also gained your trust."

His investigation would anger the Scoia'tael members if they were found to be lurking in Mount Carbon. Since Letho was out for his investigation during daytime, he needed some bodyguards to keep him safe.

Brovar agreed to it readily. "As you wish. I'll announce this to everyone. You're free to explore anywhere you want, including the mines. But you can't enter the forbidden places, no matter what. As for the bodyguards you want…" Brovar placed his chin on the back of his hand. "Take Reagan and his gang with you. I'll relieve them of their duties in the patrol team for the time being. They'll be under your command for now."

Roy stopped breathing for a moment. Assisting him during the investigation could be dangerous, and he didn't want to bring harm to his friends. "Can I ask for other people, your excellency?"

"They love to drink with you, don't they?" Brovar shook his head in refusal. "Then I'll grant their wish."

Chapter 65

Reagan, his companions, and Roy met up again in the bathhouse. "Are you insulting me?" The dwarves were surrounding Roy, washing the dirt off their legs. "You won the match last night, so why did you give this back? You think I'm a sore loser? We are no sore losers!"

"Reagan, since I won the match, that means I'm the crossbow's owner." Roy was tense and serious. "So I reserve the right to give it to someone better."

"Y-you're giving this to me?" Reagan pointed at him with his pudgy finger, at a loss for words. A while later, he sighed. "You don't have to do this, you know. It's your liquor, after all."

"Take it as a token of friendship. Elder Brovar did say you guys will be going around with me for the next few days."

"Any more wine then?" Dave licked his lips.

"If the chance comes, let's just say you can fill yourself with all the wine you want."

"We're friends from now on, Roy!" Dave smacked Roy in excitement, and Roy almost teared up from the pain, his skin turning red.

"Alright, let's talk business. The elder wants you guys to help me out with the murders," Roy whispered. They formed a circle, and Roy planned on telling them a few things, since they were already a team. "I need some help. Have you ever seen anyone with a weird tattoo on them?"

"What kind of tattoo?" 𝗯𝐞𝐝𝗻𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥.𝐜𝗼𝐦

"Shh, pipe down." Roy showed the marking of an antler overlapping a spider web to the dwarves and scanned their faces, but to his disappointment, they looked baffled, obviously never seeing that mark before.

"What does this mark mean, Roy? Why are you looking for it?" Reagan shook his head. "Elder Brovar thinks beards and chest hair are enough to show manliness, so there's no need for nonsense like tattoos. That's why we never advocate that here, and not even one in a hundred of us has tattoos. Oh, but those who've left the mountain love it though. I've seen every guy's body here, but I've never seen this tattoo on them."

Dave, Drew, and Barney expressed the same sentiment.

"I see. But keep an eye out for me, and keep this a secret."

"Of course. If I ever let this slip, I'll never have any wine again."

"Same thing here."

"Me too."

On the other hand, a gray-haired, muscular dwarf slid into the bath as the dwarves made their promise, and he looked up as he wiped himself off.

"The night-shifters usually come in later. I wonder who that guy is." Roy shifted his attention to the newcomer. The dwarf's face was sagging, his sun spots apparent. The laugh lines beneath the sides of his nose were deep, and the creases on his forehead also drooped. If Roy converted his age to a human's, the dwarf would be around fifty to sixty years old.

And then Roy's eyes turned dark for a moment. Benson Fugnar? Hm, a hundred and fifty years old, no buffs or debuffs, normal stats, and normal skills. "Is that old chap over there a miner?"

The dwarves looked at Benson. Dave, Drew, and Reagan tried their hardest to remember, while Barney looked smug. "I might stutter, b-but I have a g-good memory. I-I recognized you first, y-you know."

"Get to the point, mate," Roy said.

"Alright then." Barney gazed at the old dwarf with respect. "Mr. Benson Fugnar i-is a hundred and fifty this year. H-he's about the same age as E-Elder Brovar, but h-he's a nice guy, a-and he doesn't p-put up airs. A-all the miners l-love him."

Dwarves might live long lives, but dwarves that could live for more than a hundred and twenty years in a time where wars and disasters were rife were rare. "Why is he still working as a miner then? Shouldn't he be enjoying life?" Roy asked.

Barney puffed his chest. "A-as long a-as we can move, w-we must work. I-if we don't work, there's no food o-on the table."

Roy shot another question, "What's his job then?"

"T-the fifth mining area's c-clerk. H-he's in charge o-of the schedule."

"The area Kaerwen's in charge of, huh?" Roy replied, and at the same time, Benson did something weird. He hugged his legs out of nowhere and started wailing, his cries filling the bathhouse.

Barney, the most sensitive out of them, teared up and sobbed.

"Why is he crying? Did his family die in the murders or something?"

Reagan answered that in Barney's place, "No, his family's alive and kicking, and he just got a grandchild not too long ago." He sounded envious.

"His son's worse off than I am, so I wonder how on Mahakams he managed to marry the woman he loved and bore two children on top of that. Elder Brovar even baptised his kids as an acknowledgement for their contribution." Dwarves were not as fertile as humans, so having two children was a great contribution to the tribe.

"That's a great honor, and it hasn't been too long since then, so why is he looking so depressed? Did something happen to the kids?" Reagan frowned, feeling perplexed.

On the other hand, Roy finally had a breakthrough. I've been staking out at this place for days. Finally someone's acting weird. I need to look into this. "Barney, shouldn't you go up there and calm him down? He's your elder, after all."

Barney scratched his head in confusion, but then he thought Roy had a point, so he didn't retort.

"Be casual, okay?"

Barney was reluctant. "Y-you keep t-telling me t-to pull stupid t-things like this off."

"Mr. Benson watched over you guys, didn't he? Shouldn't you talk to him? At least show some gratitude for his guidance."

"Alright, fine. I get it."

A short while later, Roy got some information from Barney. He's reminiscing about the past because he's getting on in age. Benson couldn't hold it in because he was thinking about the comrades who died on the battlefield, huh? Is that really the case? "Guys, take me to his place."

Black Metal Inn was the only inn in Mount Carbon that was approved by the elders, so it was usually packed. But because of the murders that had happened lately, the men would stay at home when night fell to take care of their families. Because of that, the inn's business was impacted heavily.

The inn was brightly lit as usual that night, but only a few customers were inside. One of them was a gray-haired dwarf in yellow pajamas drinking alone in the corner. He would occasionally look up, turning sober for a moment and looking around nervously, as if worried something might happen.

On the other hand, Letho and Roy were sitting beside the window. "You can't be asking me out at this hour just for some wine, can you?"

"I have some important information here." Letho deftly shaved his stubble using his short sword. "Remember what you told me last night? Yeah, I looked into it and discovered Kaerwen's secret. It's a big one."

"Put that aside for now." Roy calmed down and patted Letho's hand. "One problem at a time. Keep an eye on the dwarf right there." Roy glanced at the target nonchalantly and whispered, "Don't let him catch you."

"Anything suspicious about him?" Letho gulped some dwarven liquor, and he squinted from the strong kick of the alcohol.

"That dwarf is Benson Fugnar, a clerk working in the fifth mining area. He's in charge of the miners' schedule. He bawled like a baby in the bathhouse today. Never saw anyone doing that before." Roy sighed. "He's the only one who's been acting weird, so maybe he knows something."

"Worth a try." Letho put his mug down and gave Roy a look of approval. "Good job. Never overlook anything out of place. You never know what you might find if you look into it."

Roy shrugged. "But his lips are sealed. Not even my friends managed to get anything from him, let alone outsiders like us. You'll have to be more, I don't know, witcher-y about it."

The clock in the inn struck midnight, and Benson got up drowsily. He wiped the wine from his lips, shook his head, and went out. Mount Carbon was freezing at night, and one kiss from the wind was enough to turn the wine on his beard to ice. Even his nose turned red from it, but he didn't care about it. Benson trudged ahead to the steps leading to his cave, not unlike a soulless puppet.

He dragged himself to the dark, narrow alley behind the inn and looked up at the moon that was nearly full. It's nearly the full moon. Benson took a deep breath, his eyes filled with fear, his lips trembling. He fell into a trance, as if he'd seen something terrifying, and then the moon turned red before his eyes, screams of agony piercing the air around him.

And then Benson felt something on his shoulder, so he snapped out of it only to be greeted by someone he'd never met before. The man before him was bald, had sculpted features, a pointed jaw, deep-set eyes, and a distant look. Benson also saw a part of a sword on the man's back.

He staggered backward. "And you are?"

The man grinned toothily. "Sorry," he said. And then a chill ran up Benson's spine sobering him up, but before he could do anything, an illusion played before his eyes. Letho's fingers split into dozens and hundreds of tentacles, surrounding him, blocking his every route of escape.

"That's a whole lot of fingers for a witcher…"

The dwarf's eyes lost their gleam and focus, and the witcher mumbled something to him. "Benson Fugnar, you would cry in the bathhouse alone and numb yourself with liquor in the inn. I know the cause of that. It's from the secret you're keeping, isn't it? You bury it deep in your heart, never telling anyone, not even your family. But eventually, the secret starts to gnaw at your conscience. The guilt you feel is killing you, and not even the wine you consume can numb the pain." Benson started to look like he was in pain at that point. "And now a listener comes up to you. He's just a traveler passing through Mount Carbon, and he holds his promise close to his heart. He can share your pain, and you won't have to risk getting found out. Tell him your secret. Tell all of it…"

Letho eventually stopped talking, and Roy, who was behind Letho, held his breath, staring at the dwarf unblinkingly. Benson was gritting his teeth, and the pain he showed turned into a struggle.

He was fighting against himself, but eventually, he refused. "I-I can't say it."

That shocked Roy. He never knew anyone who could resist Axii, and that alone told him that Benson's sadness didn't come from old memories. Benson's a hundred and fifty years old, so he's been through a lot, and his Will is six. That's one point higher than the average human.

Since Benson was resisting, Letho went for a softer approach. "Is someone threatening you?"

Benson looked up, his face contorted, but his mouth was still sealed. If they weren't careful, Benson might just crush all his teeth, and then Roy went up. "Is someone threatening you with your grandchildren?"

Benson's eyes shot open, and he stared at Roy in horror. Yeah, it's probably the spy. Letho and Roy looked at each other. Since Benson was reluctant to answer some questions, Axii wouldn't work as well as they'd hope. However, that didn't mean they couldn't get any answers, since Benson's reaction could tell them a few things.

Letho told Roy to keep on asking. "Did you bump into something by chance in the fifth mining area? Did that spy threaten you with your family? Is he working for the murderer? Were the dwarves from the fifth mining area killed because of him? Will a new victim appear tomorrow? Is it someone from the fifth mining area, or somewhere else?"

The answers from the dwarf shocked Letho and Roy. "What the hell is this?" Roy muttered. After the last question was asked, Letho snapped his finger to dispel Axii and escaped the scene with Roy quickly.

A few moments later, Benson snapped out of it groggily. He hugged himself and scanned his surroundings in terror. I seem to have forgotten something, but what? "Creepy." He shivered. "Bless me, holy Mahakams. May I and my family get through this in peace."

Chapter 66

"We know when and where the leshen will make its next kill." Roy was excited. "Let's give it a whooping tomorrow."

But Letho had to snap him back to reality. "You're forgetting something, boy. The marked one hasn't been found as of yet, so it's useless, even if we kill it. But your tip yesterday helped out a lot." Letho patted his shoulder. "Kaerwen's not the marked one, nor is he the leshen's believer. Even so, two dwarves from his mining area died, and he, for some reason, is hostile to you. That is out of place." Letho stopped for a moment. "So I used Axii on him this morning and found out that he's been helping Scoia'tael this whole time. If his information is true, then there are four members hiding in Mount Carbon."

"That's all?" Roy frowned. He thought there would be at least a few dozen of them.

"Most of the members lurking here were summoned back to Dol Blathanna for some reason, leaving only four to keep in touch with Kaerwen as well as helping the leshen build its totems," Letho explained. "They didn't hunt us down because they didn't have enough people here. They'd be exposed if I somehow escaped their ambush, so they needed to be sure they could get me."

Roy got the answer to his question. "I see."

"And one of the members is the marked one," Letho said. "Kaerwen will meet up with them at the rendezvous point tomorrow night. The leshen will kill at the same time too."

"Wow, they let one of them get marked? That's a bit cold." Roy was shocked to hear that. That means he's giving up his life for the leshen. "No wonder I couldn't spot him." He took a deep breath and enquired. "But why does Kaerwen want to help them? Elder Brovar treasures him a lot."

"That's as much as I can get out of him. Any more and he'd escape Axii's grip." Letho stopped for a moment, and then he mocked, "He just came of age, you know. Sixty years old and all. Maybe he's helping Scoia'tael because he's in his rebellious phase. Teens do tend to disobey their elders, you know." He continued. "Alright, we're going to complete this request soon. I'll be killing the leshen tomorrow." Letho had made the arrangements. "While Kaerwen leads you and your friends straight to the Scoia'tael members. Once you see the marked one, kill him, or the leshen will revive one hour after it is killed." Letho became a bit more solemn. "Time is not on our side, so kill them all, but leave Kaerwen alive if you can afford to."

Roy nodded. Kaerwen might have betrayed Brovar, but that doesn't mean Brovar's going to kill him. I'd keep him alive if I could.

"Don't tell anyone about this. If Kaerwen somehow finds out about it, our plan will probably backfire, since this is his turf, after all. Keep this a secret between you, me, and your friends. Not even Brovar can know about this."

"Alright."

"If the leshen resurrects — and that's the worst case scenario — it'll be weakened for some time. If that happens, use the bomb and oil I gave you. Fire damages it lethally," Letho reminded Roy. "The leshen and Scoia'tael will lay low after tomorrow night, unless we manage to drive them away. Or until their reinforcement comes. Tomorrow's our last chance to finish this."

Letho's not scared even though he's facing the leshen alone. I have my friends backing me up, so kicking Kaerwen and those Scoia'tael members' arses should be easy. "Let's do it then."

The full moon slowly rose into the night sky, but the trees flanking the path between the fifth mining area and Mount Carbon were shrouded in darkness, looking just like an eerie abyss. Anyone would wonder if they'd get ambushed by the horrors hiding in the dark.

Suddenly, hasty footsteps were heard closing in on the path, and a moment later, a dwarf in a thick coat jogged into the dark path with nothing but an oil lamp illuminating his way.

Buzz Ricky was one of the veteran miners in the fifth mining area, and he'd worked diligently for more than ten years. He should've been working the night shift that night and only going back home in the morning. The recent murders in the night terrified everyone, so the miners would stay the night in the mines if they got off late, only going back home when it was dawn.

However, his plan wouldn't go that smoothly. A guard came in to inform him about his wife's delivery, and Buzz must return to his family for the child's delivery, even if it was dangerous to go out at night.

It was only a thirty-minute journey from the fifth mining area to Mount Carbon, and there would be the occasional patrol going through the path, but for some inexplicable reason, the path was deathly quiet that night.

A trail of shallow footsteps embedded themselves on the snow ground as Buzz jogged ahead, the mist he breathed out turning to ice on his beard. The mine was already a long way back, and he would be arriving in the valley after ten minutes. All he could think about at that point was his wife, and nothing else.

His panting became heavier, and the forest heard it. As if on cue, Buzz fell headfirst into the snow, and his oil lamp rolled away. Then a sharp stab of pain shot up from his calf. Buzz screamed into the night, and when he calmed down, Buzz looked down at his calf only to see a sharp arrow piercing his right calf.

Blood drenched his hand when he touched the wound, and the snow was dyed crimson from his bleeding wound. "Come out, you bastard!" He looked around and yelled in horror. "You won't get away with this!" he roared, but terror was starting to overwhelm him. Then he saw someone jump down from the tree beside the path.

The moonlight and oil lamp illuminated her, revealing reddish-brown hair, sculpted features, pointed ears, a protruding jaw, and two rows of white, canine teeth. Buzz trembled, but he observed the elf closely, and finally, his eyes were glued to the accessory around her waist. It was yellow and made out of squirrel hide.

"Elf? No! You're a Scoia'tael elf! Is Scoia'tael behind all the murders?" He'd heard rumors about Scoia'tael members hiding around Mount Carbon, waiting for the right time to topple Elder Brovar, and that rumor had spread like wildfire for some time. However, ever since everyone associated with Scoia'tael had been driven out a year ago, Elder Brovar had forbidden them from talking about the matter, and the rumors died. 𝑏𝑒𝘥𝑛𝘰𝑣𝑒𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Buzz thought Scoia'tael had all been driven out too, but apparently, that wasn't the case.

The elf didn't answer his question. She took her bow and arrow once more and aimed at Buzz. Buzz got up with difficulty, his face contorted with pain and terror. Elves were known for their aptitude in archery. He knew she could kill him easily, since he was injured and only ten feet away from her.

"Looks like this is where I meet my end, dear Akali. In the end, I couldn't get to see you and our baby one last time." The frustration and hatred within him made Buzz roar, "Damn you, Scoia'tael! You shall all burn in hell! Just you wait! Elder Brovar and my brethren will avenge me! This is war! And I swear all of you will burn!" Then he closed his eyes and waited for death to claim him.

But the stab of pain didn't come, and he looked at the elf in shock. The elf turned her head to the left and gave him a look.

"What's that supposed to mean? Should I go left?" The desire to live lit within him, but instead of following her orders, Buzz limped back the way he came. However, an arrow brushed past him before he could get far, and it drew blood. "What do you want?" He was infuriated, thinking the elf was playing with him, but the elf was still only telling him to go left.

"Fine. I'll play along as long as I can live to see my baby." Buzz decided to follow the elf's orders. He would swallow his pride if it meant he could live. He dragged himself to the left, and blood trickled down his pants, leaving a crimson trail on the ground.

The pain from his right calf was still unbearable, but he didn't do anything about the arrow that pierced him. All he could do was moan, but eventually, his whole leg went numb. The moment he entered the forest, he was engulfed by the darkness, and the terror within him grew ten times larger. He had a feeling something horrifying had set its eyes on him.

The elf was holding the oil lamp and was following him. He wanted to escape, but the elf had her eyes on him, and he didn't make any sudden movements. "Where are we going?" he asked, but no answer came, and so, all he could do was walk ahead.

Buzz trudged on, covering a long, long distance. He kept losing blood, and the chilly winds buffeted him, draining all his color away. He could feel himself turn cold, his limbs stiffening, and his vision blurred.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around, but the elf was nowhere to be seen. However, before he could rejoice, a long, ancient sigh echoed around him, sending a chill up his spine.

Buzz finally broke down from the pressure.

Chapter 67

The earth seemed to have come to life, and it started rumbling. The snow on the trees started falling, and the trees bowed, as if welcoming their master. And then a dark, narrow path was revealed.

To Buzz's horror, two wrinkly, wooden hands held the trunks, or to be precise, the 'hands' were made out of countless intertwining vines. The hands pushed themselves back, revealing a gigantic being kneeling behind the path. "I-is that a-a deer?"

The creature's head was as big as an average adult human, with a pair of gigantic antlers protruding from the sides of its head. Each of the antlers looked like the branches of a tree, and they were intertwined. Its face was as long as a deer's, but it had no flesh on it, not even on its snout, and only a mere skull remained. Eerie flames seemed to dance in its eye sockets, sending fear into those who saw them. Its torso and limbs were made of tree trunks and vines, covered by a layer of fern.

The monster took a step forward, and its face was just a few feet away from Buzz, its ten foot height blocking everything in Buzz's sight. The leshen was one with the darkness, spreading darkness, fear, and death to its surrounding. Buzz's hairs stood on end, and he trembled, feeling suffocated. It took all his head to blurt out, "W-what the hell are you?"

The leshen growled, its voice grating. Before Buzz could say another word, the leshen raised its gigantic hand and slammed it downward.

This is it. Buzz closed his eyes in despair, but then a gust of wind howled behind him, and a deafening boom surrounded him. He heard an inhuman gasp of pain, and the monster pulled its hand back, and someone appeared beside Buzz.

He looked small compared to the leshen, but for some reason, Buzz thought he was infallible. "Letho!" Buzz roared in excitement, and he started crying. He was about to die a moment ago, but then he'd found out he was still alive. It was a harrowing experience to say the least.

"Be quiet!" Letho stood before the dwarf, his face filled with black veins thanks to the potion he had, and he held his short swords before his chest, yellowish oil and crimson blood gleaming on them. The blood belonged to the elf who'd led Buzz to his would-be death.

The leshen was twenty feet away from Letho. Letho could smell the scent of soil and grass from it, but also the faint stench of blood. His necklace started humming, and the ground pulsed, as if a creature's tongue was trying to coil around its prey.

A vine whipped upward from the snow and tried to wrap them, not unlike how a python would. There was a stench emanating from it, and Buzz started shouting for help. Letho sliced the vine, cutting it in half, and green fluid oozed from it. The broken vine squirmed on the ground like a sliced worm. "Don't just stand there and scream, you fool! Take this!"

Buzz scrambled to take the knife Letho tossed him, and he smiled wryly. "You want a limp like me to fight that with this little knife?" But he couldn't complain, for the leshen had started howling, and dozens of vines were crashing toward them like a waterfall.

Letho grabbed Buzz and rolled away, but the vines didn't stop chasing them, and soon, they were surrounded. Eventually, the vines formed a cocoon, trapping Letho and Buzz within it. The leshen sighed, and then it went ahead and held the cocoon within its slender, wrinkly hand. And it gripped it. The cocoon that was made out of countless vines started squirming as the leshen's grip became tighter, and it turned smaller and smaller.

Sounds of things rubbing against each other came from within the cocoon, and then a crack was heard. The leshen took an involuntary step back, and if its face still had flesh on it, it would've looked horrified. The weird sound kept going on and on, until the cocoon suddenly stopped contracting, and the vines started trembling, murmuring into the night. They were shivering in fear, as if they'd encountered a predator.

The leshen watched quietly, and then a beam of light shone from within the cocoon, and after that, the vines fell off, drying up and dying right away. Steam escaped from some of the vines, as if they were getting cooked. The leshen opened its arms, and the forearms turned into two sharp spikes. It tried to pierce the cocoon, but what greeted it was a whip of flame, though it only lasted for a moment. However, that moment was enough to make the leshen clutch its arms in agony and back off.

Letho was kneeling on one knee, supporting himself with his sword. He was panting, his whole body red. Even though they escaped death, it took a toll on him. He was bleeding from his face, and his armor was broken, blood gushing out. Buzz was lying on the ground, life hanging on by a thread.

"Homta, morata…" The leshen started chanting while Letho was catching his breath, then howls of wolves came from afar. Letho quickly made a sign in the air and sent a green beam flying straight at the leshen. The leshen was caught by surprise, and it was stunned for a moment, forcing it to stop chanting. Letho took the chance to hurl a bomb at it.

The canister was smashed into pieces, and white smoke with black particles in it enveloped the leshen, blocking its magical flow and its connection with nature. The leshen howled and quickly backed out of the smoke.

Letho crossed his short swords, creating sparks in the air, and then he pounced on the leshen. Buzz was still lying on the ground, and never once did he expect to see a witcher fighting a monster up close in his life.

The leshen's magic had been sealed once the dimeritium bomb had been set off, and it could only engage in close quarter combat with Letho. It was like seeing David fight Goliath, except David was a witcher, and Goliath was a leshen. It looked funny, but dangerous at the same time. The leshen had incredible strength and was invincible. Its every attack left a crater in the ground, but since it lost its magic, it became the prisoner in a prison it created.

It was as if the leshen was constricted by a shirt too small, and it couldn't exert its full strength. It'd clumsily hit the pine trees from time to time, wasting energy for nothing.

On the other hand, the witcher, while big in the dwarf's eyes, had astounding speed. He moved around as if there were wings on his legs, evading the leshen's claws by a hair's breadth at times. Whenever the leshen tried to go around Letho to attack Buzz, Letho would force it to retreat with Igni. 𝒷ℯ𝒹𝓃𝓸𝓿ℯ𝓁.𝒸ℴ𝓶

Letho was a cunning and cautious fighter. He'd retreat after every strike with his short sword, not giving it any openings. That was how snakes hunted. His short swords acted like fangs, biting into the leshen and poisoning it whenever he saw an opening. Then he'd hide behind the trees.

Vipers had lethal venom, and Letho's venom was the oil and poison on his short swords. The leshen had a tough hide, so the stabs wouldn't damage it too much, but all Letho needed to do was scrape its skin, then his oil and poison would invade the leshen's body, corroding and destroying it that way.

If someone saw the fight from afar, they'd see a titan roaring in the forest, while someone was swirling around it like a phantom.

Two minutes of intense battle later, the leshen had accumulated countless injuries, and green blood oozed from them. Letho was hit twice, and blood trickled down his cheek. His right arm was mangled and hung limply at his side. Even so, he showed no panic or frustration. He cast one final Igni and threw the flames at the gigantic monster, and then he took a deep breath and put his short sword down.

A moment later, green blood spurted from the leshen's countless wounds, and it fell like a boat that was sinking because of the countless holes in its hull. Letho watched closely as the giant fell with a rumbling thud. It lay on the ground, spread eagled, its chest heaving, and the light in its eyes dimmed.

Letho uncorked a Swallow and finished it in one gulp. A moment later, the wounds on his body stopped bleeding, but he still wouldn't take his eyes off the leshen. At the same time, he moved his right arm with his left to snap the bones back into place, giving it a semblance of an arm. He helped the heavily injured dwarf up and fed him a bottle of marigold potion. The bitter taste made Buzz frown, and he woke up.

"I-is the monster dead, Letho? Did we survive?" The dwarf could see that the leshen was almost dead, but the fatal hit hadn't been landed yet.

"Ash to ash, dust to dust. It was born in the woods, therefore it shall die in the woods. That is its fate, but it has to live, at least for a little while longer." And then Letho's face fell, for the leshen suddenly turned into a ball of smoke and disappeared into thin air.

Chapter 68

Let's turn the clock back by five hours.

Four dwarves and a human teenager were hiding behind a big tree in a snow capped land, staring at a path before them. Two of them had crossbows on their backs, while the other ones had two-handed weapons with them.

"We've been here for half an hour, Roy. You sure Kaerwen's coming out?" Reagan caressed his freezing beard, looking bored, and the other dwarves listened closely. Roy breathed into his hands to warm himself.

"Patience, my friends. I got this from a reliable source." Roy injected some fear in his reply. "Since we have time, let's review our plan.

"Kill those Scoia'tael scum," Drew started.

"C-capture Kaerwen." Barney clenched his fists in excitement.

"Um…" Dave scratched his head, apparently not knowing what to say.

"Safety first. We'll make a run for it if we can't beat them." Roy's fingers were getting white with nerves, his heart palpitating. "Go with the flow, Reagan. If the leshen somehow revives when we're fighting, remember to throw some fire at it." Even though Letho said there were only four members, Roy couldn't be too sure about it, since they didn't know much about the enemy.

"Got it, so relax." Reagan's face was getting red. "Fuck it. I've been wanting to kick that asslicker in the balls for a while now."

And then they held their breaths, for they saw someone come out of the mine. It was a dwarf with white-hair and a white-beard, and he was equipped with a hammer as well as an oil lamp.

"He's here." They started tailing their quarry.

The white-haired dwarf walked on the path filled with wheel tracks for ten minutes before suddenly going into the forest that was flanking it. Roy and the dwarves were surprised by that, and they quickly followed.

The moon was drowning the land in its silvery glow, and the snow ground was filled with trails of footsteps leading deep into the forest. A group of five friends traveled in the dark, silent forest, and Roy would etch the mark of the Viper School on a pine tree after walking for a certain distance.

Half an hour later, their quarry led them to a dark cave. The white-haired dwarf suddenly put his index fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. A moment later, two silhouettes with torches in their hands came out to greet him. The dim light from the fire illuminated them, revealing their pointed ears, sharp chin, and slender, agile figure.

The elf on the left was wearing a dark green jacket that covered his leather armor underneath. His boots looked old and were made out of deer hide. And he was equipped with a bow, quiver, and sword.

The elf on the right had delicate features, fair skin, and had no visible weapons on her, though she had a rhombus-shaped talisman on her belt, and she was slimmer than her male counterpart. They placed their torches into the sconces on the wall and engaged in a quiet conversation with Kaerwen. Roy and his friends couldn't hear anything because it was too soft, but the dwarves who were hiding behind the bush nearby looked excited. Barney even covered his mouth in case he made any sound, but his body was trembling in excitement.

Two elves? But there should be four? Are they in the cave? But it's not a bad thing. Even if Kaerwen is there, it shouldn't be too hard to defeat them. Roy heaved a sigh of relief and scanned the elves. 𝒷𝓮𝒹𝓃ℴ𝓿𝓮𝓁.𝓬𝓸𝓂

'Thoth

Age: 70

Gender: Male

Status: Scoia'tael member

HP: 60 (Marked)

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 7

Constitution: 6

Perception: 7

Will: 5

Charisma: 6

Spirit: 5

Skill:

Bow Master Level 5

One-handed Mastery Level 5

Elegance of the Wind (Passive): Elves possess extraordinarily elegant looks and great dexterity. Charisma +1, Dexterity +1.'

'Lydia

Age: 60

Gender: Female

Status: Scoia'tael member, sorceress.

HP: 50

Mana: 150

Strength: 4

Dexterity: 6

Constitution: 5

Perception: 5

Will: 6

Charisma: 7

Spirit: 15

Skill:

Source (Passive): Has awakened the power to sense chaos energy. Now a magic-sensitive elf. Loved by the elements of earth, fire, water, and air. Absorbs mana automatically at all times. Can control Mana and release spells after receiving professional and systematic training, performing feats most people couldn't.

Magic Trick Level 5: The mildest and trickiest usage of elemental energy. Expends a small amount of mana to perform daily chores. Includes cleaning, bathing, copying, lighting, makeup, and more.

Fireball Level 3: Elementary level fire spell. No materials needed. Summons a fireball to attack after casting. Damage is dependent on skill level and Spirit.

Lightning Bolt Level 4: Elementary level air spell. No materials needed. Releases a bolt of lightning at target after casting. Damage is…

Teleportation Level 3…

Heightened Defense Level 4…

Elegance of the Wind (Passive)…

Oh shit. An elven sorceress? Roy gasped. This is going to be troublesome. She's a lot stronger than Toya is. I mean, look at all her skills. If she notices us and manages to prepare herself, she'll be throwing fireballs and lightning bolts at us left and right while her teammates cover her. We'll all die before getting close. Good thing I noticed her. She's worse than a normal human in terms of survivability if caught unprepared. Wait, the other elf is marked?

Realization struck Roy, and he knew the male elf was their primary target, the key for the leshen's revival. 'Show no mercy. Kill him when you have the chance.' He recalled Letho's reminder and pointed at the male elf before pointing at himself. Then he pointed at the female elf and pointed three fingers at Reagan, who was holding Blood Brothers.

They loaded their crossbows and knelt down, aiming at their targets' vitals. Roy activated Crossbow Mastery and aimed at the elf's heart, while Reagan aimed at the female elf's neck. The other dwarves held their breath and watched silently as Roy whispered the countdown. "Three, two, one, fire!"

Two crossbow bolts flew across the air, slamming into their targets. The male elf who was chatting with Kaerwen felt as if his chest had been hit by a sledgehammer, and he fell down with a contorted face as a bloody arrow pierced through his chest. Even though he'd hit his target, Roy looked dark, for he noticed the elf nudging ever so slightly to the side at the last moment. Because of that, the arrow didn't manage to pierce his heart, and the elf survived, but only just.

Reagan's shot was not much better than Roy's. In fact, it was much worse, for a white light covered her, deflecting the bolt before it could hit it.

"Gar'ean! Gar'ean!" the female elf screeched in horror before darting back into the cave, hiding within the safety of the dark. Then she started chanting, and the pressure from her eerie magic hung over everyone's heads like a reaper's scythe.

Kaerwen Hoger charged at their hiding spot, his hammer trailing along with him, and his hair billowed in the wind.

"Drew, Dave, you guys take him on!" Reagan reloaded his crossbow. "Roy, finish that Scoia'tael scum! Barney, you'll take care of that sorceress with me!"

Roy raised his crossbow and took out the bomb from his inventory. "No, we'll take care of that sorceress first! That elf is just inches away from death! I'll deal with him later!"

The battle's tides started to turn, and a few moments later, Drew and Dave charged toward Kaerwen with their hammer and greataxe. Kaerwen swung his hammer and barely deflected the weapons away, but he was forced backward, and he ran into the forest.

At the same time, Roy quickly hurled the dimeritium bomb into the cave, and the white smoke enveloped the sorceress. She suddenly let out a chilling scream as the magical fire in her hands was extinguished. The light that enveloped her shattered into pieces, and blood trickled down her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Her magic backfired on her.

Roy didn't hesitate to pull the trigger and buried an arrow into her eye. A moment later, the arrow pierced through her skull, sending chunks of flesh, blood, and grey matter flying everywhere.

The sorceress fell back onto the ground and died, never getting the chance to cast any spell. 'The sorceress, Lydia, is killed. You gain a hundred EXP. Level 3 (110/1500).'

Whoa, a sorceress is worth five times more than a normal human. But that wasn't the time to think about that. He heard the howls of the wind coming from the cave, and a third Scoia'tael member showed up, holding a greatsword. He was obviously an elf, judging by his ears, but instead of having a slim body like his brethren, the elf with the greatsword was muscular and covered in dark, grey armor. His neck and left shoulder were exposed, and Roy could see a tattoo in the shape of green leaves, branches and vines sprawled on the elf's skin.

His face contorted in rage and sadness, and he jumped out of the shadows the moment the sorceress had died. The elf swung his greatsword, aiming for Roy's chest. The gale that brushed past Roy suffocated him, but he managed to roll away, though he was a moment too late. However, the greatsword was blocked by a black hammer.

"Y-you want to kill him? O-over my dead body!" Barney's face was as scarlet as the setting sun, his eyes wide with fury. Barney slammed his leg against the elf's chest, sending him flying back into the shadows, and he swung his hammer down on the elf's head.

"I'm going in! There might be more of those scum inside!" Reagan went into the cave with his crossbow in hand.

Only ten seconds had passed since the first shot had been made, but only Roy and the marked elf were left, with the latter being near dead with a hole in his chest. Blood trickled down his mouth, and his face was contorted in rage, his green eyes filled with hatred. He bared his teeth at Roy, threatening to kill him, but to little effect.

"I'm sorry." Roy couldn't understand why Scoia'tael hated humans so much, but he wouldn't spare them a shred of pity. He then grabbed a bolt out of thin air, but before he could do anything, a wrench was thrown in his plan.

Chapter 69

An arm that looked like a tree's roots tore the elf's chest open, and it grabbed Roy's right hand. The dim light from the sconce illuminated them, revealing the crimson fluid on the arm, the ferns on it, and the tough husk that looked like it belonged to a root.

Roy's heart skipped a beat, and he grabbed a bolt with his left hand and tried to stab the elf's ear, but the hand slammed him in the chest, sending him flying back. Roy tumbled down and rolled around, pain spreading from his chest, and it felt as if his insides had shifted. He struggled to sit up, and to his horror, the hand that had torn the elf's chest pushed against the ground, forcing the elf's body to sit up at a terrifying angle.

As the moon's light sprinkled over the forest, the elf's body dislocated its jaw, and inside its mouth, an eye peered straight at Roy. A ball of cold flame danced inside it — a flame that was devoid of any life. A moment later, the elf that had sat up was torn in half, revealing the gigantic leshen in its entirety. After the fight with Letho, the leshen had shrunk to half its size, and it was only standing at five feet tall. Tiny antlers protruded from its head, and a mask made out of a white skull covered its face. Its eyes looked more like eerie blue lanterns, and looking at them sent a chill down Roy's spine.

Its body and limbs were made out of tree trunks and vines, and they were covered in blood and bodily fluids. More than anything, it looked like a baby that just broke out of its mother's womb, albeit in a grotesque way.

'Ancient leshen

Age: 272

HP: 80 (Weakened)

Mana: 120

Strength: 12 ↓

Dexterity: 4 ↓

Constitution: 8 ↓

Perception: 5 ↓

Will: 7 ↓

Charisma: 12 ↓

Spirit: 12 ↓

Skills:

Vine Control Level 6: Expends a small amount of mana to hasten the growth of seeds. Summons durable, strong, and fast vines to attack the target.

Ground Spike Level 6: Elementary level earth spell. Expends a small amount of mana to attack the target with ground spikes.

Beast Summoning Level 7: Charms nature's beasts with great charisma. The beasts can be summoned at any time to help the user.

Camouflage Level 7: The user may blend itself with the forest if in the required terrain. Allows the user to hide completely.

Mark of the Leshen Level 6: An ancient ritual of blood. A strengthening totem can be constructed after the necessary sacrifices are made.

The Forest's Murmur Level 7: The user can charm travelers who are lost in a forest, showing them an illusion, brainwashing them into devotion through great charisma.

Child of the Woods (Passive): The user is the guardian of forests and loved by nature. Nature blesses it as gratitude for its service. As long as the user is in a forest, its stamina, mana, and wounds would recover twice as fast.'

All the color drained from Roy's face after reading the details. This is an ancient leshen? Wait, it's weakened? But it's still stupidly strong! It's the strongest monster I've seen until now! How am I supposed to fight it? Roy was about to hurl a dimeritium bomb at it, but he realized he used it in the fight against the sorceress.

Shit! He cursed quietly and shot a bolt at the leshen, but as expected, it got stuck in the monster's hide. Aside from drawing some blood, it did nothing. 'Leshens are afraid of fire!' Letho's reminder rang in his head, and he quickly tossed a bottle at the leshen, coating it in oil. The leshen was still groggy from the recent resurrection, and it didn't stop Roy.

But when Roy went for the torch on the wall, the leshen glared at him and put its hands together. "Hontala…" it chanted, and in the very next moment, a thick vine sprouted from the ground and pounced at Roy from behind, coiling his leg. Then it pulled Roy up, suspending him in midair, effectively taking him out of commission.

The blood rushed to his head, stunning Roy, and everything around him spun. To his horror, the vine was already coiling around his whole body, turning him into a cocoon with nothing but his eyes exposed. He was also suffocating from the tightening vine around his neck, and then he was reminded of the nightmare he'd had before coming to Mahakam. That felt oddly similar. Was it trying to tell me about this?

The leshen awkwardly stood up among the flesh and blood, and then it slowly went toward Roy. At the same time, three dwarves showed up behind the monster. Drew and Dave were dragging Kaerwen along by his arms, and when they noticed the monster outside the cave, the dwarves held their weapon tensely.

And when they saw Roy being suspended in midair, they flew into a rage and charged toward the leshen, abandoning their hostage along the way. The leshen was fully focused on Roy, obviously trying to do something to the boy, and so, it was oblivious to the dwarves' ambush. 𝙗𝒆𝒅𝙣𝙤𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝙢

When the dwarves' greataxe and hammer slammed into the leshen, it howled terribly and stumbled forward, but it didn't fall. However, the leshen's tough body was injured, and green blood gushed from its wounds.

The leshen's howls turned into a guttural growl, and it whirled around, slamming the dwarves with its mangled arms. Even though the dwarves were stout and covered in heavy armor, they could move as nimbly as a calico could. They ran around the leshen once, and the moment the leshen's attack was weakened, they held their weapons before their chest, blocking the attack.

They followed their defense by moving their weapon downward, sliding across its arms, and sparks flew. A moment later, their weapons connected with the leshen's chest and back, slamming hard into the monster. Two giant cracks formed on the leshen's body, and blood spurted. Nobody could see it, but Roy noticed the leshen's HP taking a dip, leaving it with only sixty points.

Roy tried to shout, but all he could do was let out a muffled scream, for the vines were still coiled around him. The dwarves' attack finally enraged the leshen, and it started chanting once again. It could cast spells at a terrifyingly faster speed compared to any normal sorcerer, and all it took was a split second for it to launch an attack. Most people would fail to find an opening under those circumstances.

The dwarves thought they noticed the leshen's weakness. It might've had great strength, but its reaction and movement speed were slower than a tortoise's. They circled it with their weapons in hand, their shadows almost a blur. The dwarves looked like a pair of hyenas hunting their prey down on a meadow, waiting for a chance to give the leshen another blow. However, unbeknownst to them, two vines shot up from the ground, ambushing them from below.

The vines coiled around their feet and pulled them back, suspending them in midair. And then, just like Roy, they were turned into a cocoon, but the leshen wasn't as kind to them this time around. A cruel gleam shone within its eyes, and it raised its hands before putting it down.

The dwarves were suspended further up into the air before slamming headfirst into the ground. A loud thud later, the vines uncoiled the dwarves, revealing Drew and Dave who were out of commission.

"Dave, Drew!" Roy shouted, but only muffled sounds came out, and he teared up. "Goddammit!"

An arrow soared through the air, hitting the leshen in the face, embedding itself into the mask. Reagan came out of the dark, but he looked like a mess. His hair was billowing in the air, and his right thigh was bleeding. He was obviously injured in the battle against the elves, but he showed no panic. After the shot hit its mark, he quickly reloaded his crossbow, ready for the next shot.

The torch illuminated the cave, and Roy could see the shadow of a dwarf running toward them, and out came Barney, roaring and raring to fight. He swung his warhammer and slammed it into the leshen's head. And it howled. Forty HP remaining.

"Mo, ning, ta…" The leshen covered its face and directed its spell at Barney. The air was filled with the stench of soil, and as dust and debris flew into the air, a ground spike higher than ten feet shot up from the ground, forming a wall before the leshen. Barney's attack was stopped, but he slammed into the wall, failing to stop himself in time.

The ground rumbled, and Barney was taken out from the recoil. He let go of his warhammer, and it fell with a thud. The leshen blocked Reagan's arrow with its hand, and then it summoned another vine to suspend him in midair.

And with that, the battle was brought to an end. The ground was littered with corpses and the injured, and the only one standing was a relatively petite, bleeding leshen. An arrow was buried in its face, and its chest heaved as it panted. The leshen slowly came up to Roy, only to stare at him in silence. Roy smelled the scent of nature coming from it, but also the stench of blood and the soil.

That's the smell of a graveyard. Roy closed his eyes and trembled reflexively. Every inch of his body, every vessel, and every vein shivered uncontrollably as he waited for the leshen to pass its judgment. But then he thought about his friends, and a flame of fury welled up within him, trying to consume him. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he struggled to break free. A few moments later, the vines around him uncoiled, but his head and back was pressed down by the leshen, forcing him to bend down with his face touching the ground.

The leshen hunkered down and raised his head, staring into his eyes. Roy saw pity in his eyes, and that pity sucked Roy's soul into it. "Kneel before me, worship me, make me your god." Roy heard hundreds of people singing praises around him, and everything around him changed as the leshen showed him an illusion.

Time passed, and Roy left Mount Carbon without Letho by his side. Eventually, he left Mahakam and settled down in a beautiful village, in the middle of nowhere. There, Roy lived his life as a simple farmer who toiled the fields honestly. After he was done with work every day, he'd worship a deer-headed god in the village.

Thanks to that deity, the village enjoyed years and years of prosperity. He lived a satisfying life, and eventually, he got married, had children, and lived a quiet, peaceful life, but one thing never changed. His wife, his children, and his children's children started worshipping the same god he did, and it went on for generations, even after his death.

"No! This is all in my mind! It's fake!" Roy bit his lip, the sharp pain and metallic taste waking him up, and then Letho's reminder rang in his head again. 'Leshens will mark its believers so it can revive every time it's killed.'

Is it trying to mark me? Once that ludicrous idea popped up in his mind, Roy's struggles became fiercer, but the leshen's strength proved stronger still. It held Roy down, pinning him deeper against the ground.

A moment later, Roy gave up, his eyes turning unfocused, as if he had relinquished all control, letting the leshen do as it wanted. The leshen felt the change within him, and it lessened its grip on Roy, allowing him to sit up a bit. Then it held Roy's shoulder with one hand, creating a protrusion with the other. Then it tore through Roy's clothes, pierced his skin, and started etching its mark with Roy's blood.

Am I really going to bow to him? Am I really going to be its slave and food? No witcher worth their salt will bow to a monster! Roy's confusion turned into resolve, and he remembered something sleeping in his inventory space, something he hadn't used ever since he got it.

I still have a chance! A blob of yellowish, cheese-like stuff appeared in his hand. That was the vomit of the childhunter, an item with the effect of a dimeritium bomb, and even Letho praised the substance.

Roy clenched it tightly and looked up into the leshen's eyes. His face was contorted with rage, and he broke free of the leshen's grasp, pushing himself up, slamming his hand against the arrow in the leshen's eyes, betting everything on that single blow. Roy buried it deeper into the leshen's head, wanting to crush it and turn it to a pulp.

The leshen stopped etching the mark, and it took a step back, roaring into the heavens. White smoke billowed from its face, as if acid was biting through it. Its body trembled, not unlike branches buffeted by a gale.

Roy finally had complete control of his body, and he stood up before quickly taking the torch from the cave's wall and tossing it to the leshen. The fire spread throughout the monster's body once it came into contact with the oil, turning the leshen into one big bonfire. It spread its arms, jumping around the place, howling, begging for its life.

Roy looked at it coldly, his crossbow in hand, his bolt in his mouth, and then he reloaded the crossbow and shot the leshen. Once he was done, he switched places and did the same thing all over again.

The leshen couldn't get out alive from the flames, for it was weakened, and its magic was sealed. A simple flame could spell the end of it, and a short while later, the leshen's charred, lifeless body fell with a thud, countless arrows buried in its body.

'You killed a leshen. EXP +200. New character sheet unlocked.'

But that wasn't the end of the ordeal. Roy had just heaved a sigh of relief after reading the message, but an impending sense of doom filled him. He bristled and spun around reflexively, grabbing an arrow that appeared out of thin air. Then he used the momentum from the swing to stab backward, and it felt like he pierced something.

Kaerwen held his neck, but he couldn't stop the blood from gushing out of the wound. His beard was dyed crimson, and he was slowly dying. Kaerwen stumbled backward, but his eyes never shifted from the boy. He hated the boy… No, he despised him, and he felt nothing but rage toward him. Why'd I lose control of my body at the last moment? And what's that crimson light behind that boy?

"Y-you s-scum!" Kaerwen murmured, and those became his last words. His short sword fell from his hand, and his expression froze as he fell with a thud.

He didn't want to die that way, but fate had dictated otherwise.

'You killed Kaerwen Hoger. EXP +20.'

Roy plopped down onto the ground. His body and soul were ravaged by exhaustion and pain, but he had a job left to do, and he tensed up. "Barney! Dave! Drew! Reagan! You guys okay?" He stared down and started to sob, but a moment later, someone stirred.

"Relax." Reagan coughed. "We're tough, so something like that can't kill us." It took all he had to push himself up.

"Get them up for me."

They quickly checked on the other dwarves and heaved a sigh of relief.

"They're alive. Unconscious, but still alive."

"But Kaerwen's dead. This could be a problem." Reagan held Barney up and pressed against Barney's philtrum.

"I killed him, so I'll take the blame," Roy decided. "I'm not a resident of Mount Carbon, so it's not like Elder Brovar can do anything once I leave."

Chapter 70

Fifth of December, 1260.

The weather was great for once on Mount Carbon. The warm sun broke through the snow, melting away the doom and gloom that enveloped the city, and all of the dwarves were wearing broad smiles.

Some of the inhabitants were standing around the stakes in the plaza, where the Scoia'tael members and leshen's head hung, and they buzzed with excitement.

"I was on guard duty that night when the witcher and his comrades dragged that monster into the valley. By Mahakams that monster was hard to look at. Its whole body was charred, and it looked more like a whole ball of arrows than a leshen."

"Holy Mahakam! I have never seen such a hideous creature before in my life! I'd have run for my life if it'd still been alive."

"Of course you would. You aren't the witcher. He's one capable man, he is. I mean, he killed off the monster that plagued us for months, and he took out those scum too. I'm going to raise a toast for him at tonight's banquet."

"And don't forget about the witcher's assistant. He's only around twenty-seven in dwarf years, but he was already involved in the hunt. That's a real man right there! Gotta raise a toast for him too."

"Our archery champion and his brothers also took part in the hunt too, and Elder Brovar is going to praise them tonight." The dwarves looked envious. "Those guys are going to be popular with the ladies after tonight."

As if by coincidence, the dwarves omitted Kaerwen from their discussion.

At the same time, the people they were talking about were staying in the guest room, where the witcher was. Reagan's head and thigh were bandaged, and he was explaining the situation to Roy, though he'd glance at Letho from time to time. Letho paid no attention to him, since he was meditating.

"Just a slight concussion. They'll be fine. Barney and the lads are snoring away in the infirmary. They'll be alive and kicking at the banquet tonight."

"That's good to hear." Roy heaved a sigh of relief. "I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something had happened to them."

"That's not your fault." Reagan was surprisingly calm about death. "If they somehow hadn't made it, then I guess Mahakam must've loved them more. Dying in a battle in the Mahakams against monsters and Scoia'tael scum would be an honor for them." Reagan paused for a moment. "If you think about it, those scums were behind the death of my brethren. If we hadn't stopped them in time, they would've ruined even more families. Their deaths are necessary for the tribe, and killing them is truly a heroic deed. Our souls will be welcomed in Mahakam after our passing."

Roy changed his opinion on the dwarves. He thought they were ignorant drunkards before the hunt, but then he knew they were actually devout, loyal, and courageous people.

"Did you see their faces when we hauled the leshen's trophy and those Scoia'tael scum back?" Reagan grinned and smacked his leg, but he hit his wound at the same time, and he gasped. "Those guards and crossbowmen were gawking at us like idiots! Those guys were usually arrogant bastards who'd insult us whenever they got the chance. Barney's got it the worst." Reagan laughed. "Now everyone knows we took part in the hunt, and we're heroes of the tribe. You, Letho, and I were the only ones who could stand tall among them. I could imagine how charming I must've looked to the ladies." Reagan grinned. "Some of them were beaming at me too! I know they were looking at me, because you and Letho weren't their type. I can smell romance in the air, Roy. And it's all for me! I would have gotten my hands on one of them if it weren't for the fact I have to team up with Paul soon."

Such an optimistic guy. Roy listened in silence as Reagan babbled on and on and on, relieving him of the sadness and disgust he felt. All he could think of for the past two days was Scoia'tael's hatred for him and the illusion the leshen showed him. He'd often fall into a trance.

"Looks like I have to congratulate you on your romance." Roy grinned. "But are you sure you want to leave Mount Carbon? Why don't you just marry some lady and raise a family?"

Reagan shook his head resolutely. "I'm going to seek Paul out in Kaedwen next year." The battle with the leshen and Scoia'tael only made his interest in the outside world swell, since he couldn't do much in Mount Carbon.

"What about them?"

"I can't shake Barney off, so he's coming. Not sure about Drew and Dave." Reagan pinched his beard, sounding slightly dismayed that half his squad might not follow him. "Not every dwarf is ambitious. Some prefer a stable life."

Roy had a feeling he might bump into Reagan in his adventures. "Maybe we'll bump into each other in Kaedwen," he blurted.

"I'll be sure to welcome you with open arms." Reagan shook his hand firmly and bumped shoulders with Roy.

"When are we going to the infirmary, Reagan?"

"Patience. Get ready for tonight's banquet for now. Elder Brovar's going to reward you two in front of everyone. Not everyone gets this chance, so you shouldn't miss it."

Reagan took out a grey, petite notebook, and a message that read "A gift to Roy. From Reagan Dalba." was written on the cover.

"Remember when you said you wanted to delve deeper into crossbows? I jotted everything I know in there, so take it."

"Thank you." Roy took the notebook with both hands, touched by Reagan's gesture. Once he saw Reagan off, Roy quickly concentrated on his character sheet.

'Roy

Age: Thirteen years and eleven months old

Status: Civilian, witcher's disciple

HP: 45/55 (Lightly injured)

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 5.1

Constitution: 5.5

Perception: 7

Will: 6

Charisma: 5

Spirit: 6.5

Skills:

Massacre Level 3 → Level 4

(Bloody Aura: Any enemy within (one foot → two foot) of you has a (ten percent → fifteen percent) chance of being Feared by the aura of massacre. If the enemy's Will is lower than yours, they will lose control of their body for a maximum of (one → two) seconds.

You deal (ten percent → fifteen percent) increased damage to any species you have killed before.

New active skill: Fear. You may cast Fear to release the aura of massacre, affecting a single target within a two feet range. The target is then forcibly controlled, and if their Will is lower than yours, they will lose control of their body for a maximum of two seconds. Five minute cooldown.

Tip: Fear will level up based on the number and types of creatures you kill.

Observe Level 2

Meditation Level 1

Crossbow Mastery Level 1

Level 3 (330/1500)

Inventory space: 1 cubic square.'

After killing the Scoia' tael members, the sorceress, and leshen during that fight, Roy gained over three hundred EXP. His Massacre even leveled up to four, thanks to the leshen. It was also thanks to his new skill, Fear, that he managed to kill Kaerwen. However, that wasn't his best loot.

He scrolled down to the new sheet that came right after his skill sheet.

'Job interface:

You have killed a grave hag, drowner, childhunter, elf sorceress, and leshen, coming to a total of five magical beings.

You have learned meditation from a witcher.

You have acquired basic alchemy and monster knowledge.

You have unlocked a job — witcher.

(Witchers are mutants who have gone through the Trial of the Grasses. They possess superhuman speed, strength, reaction speed, coordination, life force, and recovery. Their main work comes from various requests, most of which involves monster hunting.)

Do you accept this job?

Attention: You may only have one job at your current level.'

I can only have one job at my current level? Does that mean I can have more jobs when I level up? Roy was excited at that thought, but he stopped thinking too far ahead. He had no better choice at the time being, so he accepted the job, and his level turned into his job level.

'You have gained a job.

Level 3 Witcher (330/1500)

Rank: Disciple (Conditions for next rank: Pass the Trial of the Grasses and kill ten types of magical creatures (5/10). Next rank: Rookie witcher.)

School: Viper (Unconfirmed. User hasn't taken the Decoction of the Grasses yet.)

Job perks:

Main stat: You may choose one stat as your main stat. Be warned that this choice cannot be undone. Every time you level up, your main stat will be increased by 0.5 without any cost (Disciple).

Evolving Arms: You may bind a steel sword, a silver sword, and a ranged weapon for this job. Bound weapons will grow alongside you, becoming stronger every time you level up. You will be able to feel the connection between you and your bound weapons no matter the distance, and you may summon them no matter where they are.

Full Recovery: You will make a full recovery every time you level up. Most injuries can be healed, including internal injuries and broken limbs. Debuffs such as hunger, fatigue, poison, plague, and curses will be removed.

Loot Package: You receive an additional cubic meter of inventory space (Disciple). You have two cubic meters of inventory space as of now.

Locked.'

Roy was elated. Finally! I've been a weakling for too long! That risky leshen kill was worth it! Look at this! Full Recovery is already awesome enough! An instant full recovery was akin to second wind in the world of witchers, where danger lurked behind every corner.

Roy could think of a few ways to use that, one of which being to keep himself from leveling up despite having a full EXP bar so he could keep Full Recovery in store. If he ever found himself backed into a corner in battle, he'd use it to turn the tides. I can even use this in the trial. Roy couldn't be happier, and Evolving Arms was tailor made for him. He was about to give up on using Gabriel because it couldn't keep up with him, but with Evolving Arms, Gabriel could grow with him as long as he bound the weapon to him.

Of course, binding the best crossbow would maximize his profit, but Roy didn't want to give up on the things he'd been carrying with him if he had the choice.

"Looks like you're not out just yet, old buddy." Roy sat on the bed, caressing his hand crossbow.

'You are about to bind Gabriel to you. Are you sure you want to choose Gabriel?'

'Gabriel

Type: Hand Crossbow

Materials: Mulberry wood, tendon, hemp

Details: Weighs five pounds and measures two feet. Has a draw weight of twenty pounds and an effective range of a hundred feet.'

Yes. The moment Roy had that thought, he felt an inexplicable link between him and Gabriel. To be precise, it felt like a connection, or a mark. When he held it again, Gabriel felt light in his hands, as if it were his body's extension. Roy knew every inch of it byheart, and the crossbow became a coordinate he could always find, no matter the distance between them. And when he closed his eyes, he saw Gabriel floating in the darkness of his consciousness.

Even if he was blindfolded, he could easily find it with that link between them. He cheekily tossed Gabriel at Letho, and then Roy extended his arm. A moment later, the crossbow disappeared and reappeared in his hand. This could be useful.

He had no swords to bind, though he was planning on seeing the weapon Brovar would give Letho, and he smiled. Letho should be able to use it even if I bind it to me, right?

He was in a dilemma over which stat he should choose as his main one. Should I go with Perception? That's my strong suit. Or should I go with Constitution or Will? That'd help me pass the trial. Perception could increase the range of his vision and provide more details about his target, giving him more options to ambush, while Constitution could improve his HP. That alone showed how crucial it was to Roy. Will could be used with his new skill, Fear, providing a fearsome combo in close quarter combat. If his enemies had lower Will than he did, they'd be frozen in place the moment they got in range, and Roy would finish them off.

Strength and Dexterity would boost his close quarter combat skills a lot, and he wouldn't be able to call himself a witcher if he couldn't swing a sword. Spirit was useless, but it wouldn't be for long. He'd have to learn about signs eventually, and Spirit would boost the signs' power significantly. He could use signs once he passed the trial and unlocked his mana pool. It was hard to pass up on Spirit, since it'd help out a lot in the late game.

The only useless stat, at least to him, was Charisma. Roy caressed his young, smooth face, and his taut biceps. After embarking on the path of the witcher, Roy had changed into a lean, handsome young man, but that was useless. Not like my enemy's going to show mercy to me. And it's not like being handsome can help me survive longer. No, wait. A high enough Charisma can be used in battle. The leshen managed to get the beasts to help it with its Charisma. And it managed to brainwash strangers, turning them into believers. But he wasn't interested in using his charisma to fight.

Roy was in a dilemma indeed, but no matter. It was still a while before he'd level up, so he'd choose after he'd made all considerations.

Chapter 71

"Looks like the leshen gave you quite a bit of trouble, Letho." Roy was worried. Letho was still looking listless, even after resting up for days, obviously still affected by his wounds.

"The wounds are fine, boy. I just took too much of the potion, and it bit me in the arse. You'll run into the same problem after you become a witcher," Letho explained patiently. "And don't poke your nose in Scoia'tael's war against the dwarves ever again. We'll leave Mount Carbon after attending the banquet tonight." 𝙗𝒆𝙙𝙣𝒐𝙫𝙚𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝒎

Roy nodded. If his memories were correct, the Mahakams never fell to anyone, so Scoia'tael would fail even if Roy and Letho did nothing. Even so, the thought that an extremist group like that had been snooping around Mount Carbon and the Mahakams to plot a conspiracy didn't sit well with Roy.

"Has Scoia'tael become Nilfgaard's lapdog? Are they helping Emhyr var Emreis now?" Roy mumbled to himself, but he tossed the questions aside, since he couldn't do anything about that as of yet.

Then Letho asked him another question. "You're forgetting something there, boy. I need an explanation. How did you and your friends manage to take the leshen down? There were two spellcasters there if you include that leshen joining the mix. The dimeritium bomb I gave you should only be enough to take one down."

"I have the childhunter's vomit, remember?"

"The thing you hid in your dimensional pocket?"

"What dimensional pocket?" Roy averted his gaze in an attempt to hide his secret.

"I'm not stupid, boy. Your stuff keeps vanishing and reappearing without a trace. Even an idiot would know something was up." Letho was confused. "But there's one thing I don't understand. How do you manage to use a dimensional pocket when you can't even control the elements? I've never seen anyone with that power before, excluding the sorcerers, of course."

Roy puffed his chest. "I knew you'd see through me eventually, so I'm going to tell you my secret, right now. Prophetic dreams aren't my only specialty; I can even send anything I touch into my inventory space, and I can use them anytime I want."

"You don't have to lie, you know. Everyone has their secrets," Letho said solemnly. "Fine, keep your secrets then, but remember who you are, and never do anything that'll hurt the Viper School's reputation."

"Of course." The truth can be the best lie sometimes.

A short while later, a dwarven servant gave them two sets of clothes for the banquet, and Letho started teaching Roy how to behave like the people in high society. He straightened Roy's clothes out and flattened the creases on Roy's back gently, his gaze tender.

But when Roy finally wore the striped jacket and the pair of tight, yellow leather pants, all he could feel was something gnawing at his skin, and he felt itchy all over. Damn, this is some shit fashion taste. Why'd the dwarves have to take trash as fashion?

Letho chided, "Stand still! Don't jump around like a monkey!"

Roy stiffened, and Letho took a trip down memory lane. "I looked just like you the first time I wore those clothes. I hated them, but I came to understand one thing — our school can't revive without the help of those in high society. The peasants and civilians see us as mutants, heretics, and barbarians. All they offer is discrimination and nonacceptance, but they fear authority. If someone at the top of the food chain shows us their support and clears our name, the people will eventually accept us."

Roy was surprised that a veteran witcher like Letho would think that way. Asking for high society's help? Is that why they accepted Emhyr var Emreis' recruitment, and assassinated the emperors in the north? But it's useless. Those guys aren't on the same level as witchers. They're too high up, so there's no way they'd walk a mile in the witchers' shoes and listen to them. Witchers are but disposable tools to them. And witchers are few and far between. As if that isn't trouble enough, feuds always happen between different schools. If the witchers really want to end the discrimination against them, first they must end the feuds and work together. That's the only way to grow stronger. Roy had a lot going on in his head, but he pretended to listen to Letho anyway.

"You'll have to get used to all these formalities, whether you like them or not," Letho advised, but then a guest came in, uninvited.

Seville the wine dealer was still as fat and as resplendent as ever, and he nodded at Letho and Roy. "Hello, Letho. Hello, Roy. We meet again. How are you doing?"

"Fine. Real fine, actually." Roy crossed his arms, glaring at Seville coldly. "Thanks to your recommendation, we went for some great 'sightseeing' around Mount Carbon."

Letho patted Roy's shoulder, stopping his grumbling. "And what brings you back to Mount Carbon, Mr. Seville. Will you be joining the banquet tonight?"

Seville closed the door seriously. "I came to help you guys. Danger approaches."

"Danger? Oh, you mean the leshen?" Roy snickered. "Too late for that. We killed it and the Scoia'tael members."

"No, no, no." Seville shook his head, pleading genuinely, "I'm talking about the banquet tonight. You have to come with me right away. My uncle is going to trip you up tonight, to say the least."

"What?"

Seville pointed out the odd things that were going on around in the plaza, and when Letho and Roy looked around, they did find something weird. The patrols should have been lessened after the leshen's death, but that wasn't the case. Instead, more guards were patrolling the valley and standing sentry. The crossbowmen and archers were stationed at all the high vantage points, obviously defending against something.

Even the patrols around the streets had doubled, though they'd pretend to smile and salute the witcher and his disciple when they went past them. That fact made Letho think the dwarves were trying to defend against something worse than the leshen.

"Do you see? Elder Brovar set everything up to keep you guys from escaping. If you'd tried to run away, they'd have shot you without hesitation."

"Wow. After all we did to get rid of the menace plaguing his city, this is the thanks we get? A goddamn trap?" Roy's face fell. "Brovar's one ungrateful bastard. I'm not going to forget what he did to us. Never."

Letho looked calm, but his clenched fist was a sign that his fury was going to explode. On the other hand, Seville looked awkward after hearing his leader getting mocked, but he forced a smile. "I-I think he crossed the line this time too." He observed them carefully and changed his tune. "But if we put this matter aside, he's actually a fair leader."

If looks could kill, Seville would have died a hundred times right then and there. He gulped.

"But he isn't planning on breaking his promise. He has prepared your reward for killing the leshen. It's a rare weapon, a sword called Gwyhyr. It had been crafted by the gnomes prior to their exodus. Once he gives you the sword, the request will have been completed. Since he would owe you nothing, that'd give him an excuse to execute you."

"Ah, classic. They say force is the last resort, but it seems your kind leader reaches for it the first chance he gets. I see. So he's planning on giving it to us, killing us, and then taking it back. Oh, that is so smart," Roy mocked, though he thought it was a shame he had to let the weapon go.

He'd managed to read an old article by chance, and it was one that talked about Gwyhyr. It was the best sword in the world, the magnum opus of ancient gnome blacksmithing. It could cut through steel like butter, and anyone who wanted to buy it had to fork out an astronomical sum of money. Only gnomes can make that kind of weapon now. Their blacksmithing is top notch, but it's a shame they've moved to Tir Tochair. It's just what I need. If I can get it…

Seville sighed, breaking Roy's train of thought. "You shouldn't have killed Kaerwen, not even if it was by accident. Yes, he did collude with the leshen in the murders, but that doesn't change the fact that he was Elder Brovar's only son and heir."

"Kaerwen Hoger was his illegitimate son?" Roy was reminded of the rumor Dave had told him. He'd thought it was just a joke back then.

"Yes, he was, but Elder Brovar never admitted it, because it was a shameful past. Even so, everyone in Mount Carbon knew that. It's an open secret, actually." Seville pinched his beard. "Haven't you noticed that they look alike? It's like they're twins. Elder Brovar's getting on in age, and he can't really sire another child now, so of course he'd hate you. I mean, you killed his only son. We can't stay here any longer, so come with me."

"But where can we go?" Roy looked around at the heavy defenses. "How can we escape?"

The worse the crisis, the calmer they must be. Letho and Roy went back to the guest room and kept everything in Roy's inventory space before changing into some casual clothes. Then they went to the cellar with Seville, but to their surprise, their journey went smoothly. A little too smoothly. "You did take the leshen down and help us out a lot. Nobody's going to stop me from taking you guys to the cellar. I am a wine dealer after all.

Seville's cellar was astonishing enough, but it was nothing compared to Mount Carbon's. It was as vast as the ocean, and words failed them. The only light was from the candles littering the place, and all they could see was unending darkness, as well as wine barrels as far as the eye could see.

The barrel stacks were as tall as hills, and they were neatly categorized by their age and type. When Roy took a look, he noticed that the youngest wine was already at least ten years old. The aroma of alcohol and wood wafted across the air, and Roy felt tipsy just by taking a whiff of it. He felt everything around him turn into clouds, and his mind started spinning.

Letho, on the other hand, caressed the barrels, looking captivated by them, since he loved wine a lot more than Roy did.

"Guys, you can have the wine whenever you want. Let's get out of here first." Seville snapped them out of it and dismissed the guard before continuing down the cellar.

They came to the end of the cellar fifteen minutes later, and a black brick wall stood before them. Much to their shock, Seville climbed up the barrel beside and rummaged around, and then two dull thuds were heard. A moment later, the wall slowly retracted and revealed a dark tunnel leading to Melitele knew where.

Roy peered into the tunnel, and thanks to his high Perception, his night vision was superb. The walls were greyish-green and uneven, though there were extinguished oil lamps hanging on the wall at intervals. The ground extended downward at a gentle incline, leading into the darkness. Cobwebs and insects filled the tunnel that seemed to have been abandoned for years.

"W-what's a tunnel like that doing here?"

"We call it Smiack. Before the fortress of Mount Carbon was erected, this tunnel was abundant with ores. The most abundant of all, actually. It was pivotal during the early years of our establishment, and its contribution was immeasurable."

Seville gazed at the tunnel with respect, and then he sighed. "But ever since all the ores had been mined, this tunnel had been abandoned. If you walk straight ahead, you should reach Temeria by going through the Mahakams. Walk west for a few days and you'll reach Ellander."

Roy stared at him doubtfully. "How long has this tunnel been abandoned, old chap? Is it dangerous there?"

"Fifty years, I guess, so maybe there's something dangerous in there," Seville said honestly. "But if you don't want to take the risk, you can always stay back and face Elder Brovar at the banquet tonight. Maybe he'll change his mind?" Seville only had respect and fear whenever Brovar was mentioned.

Roy turned to Letho, looking excited to go. "What say you? Should we take the risk and face the unknown danger in the tunnel? Or should we hang back and expose Brovar tonight?"

Letho stared into the darkness, murder welling in his eyes. "Why should we attend a banquet when the host doesn't welcome us? You ready, boy? You might have to pull your own weight this time."

"Let's do it." Roy clenched his fist, and Gabriel, which was sleeping in his inventory, trembled when it felt its master's excitement. Roy's only regret was not having the chance to bid goodbye to his friends. "Seville, tell Reagan and the boys I said goodbye."

"Sure. Here's food and water." Seville pulled out a big sack quietly. "I don't think this much will burden Roy."

"Hold it." Letho turned to Seville, looking at him weirdly. "I need to know something before we go in."

"Umm…" Seville took a few involuntary steps back when he noticed Letho's murderous aura, as if a predator were glaring at him. "I don't understand, Letho."

"Do you think you can get away with it? We're not going in without answers, so tell the truth."

Seville saw them off and scratched his head as hard as he could. He felt like someone had erased something from his mind, and no matter how he tried to remember, nothing popped up. "Eh, not important. Elder Brovar's waiting for me to get back to him." He reset the wall and left the cellar.

Chapter 72

The wall behind them rumbled and closed, blocking their way back, leaving them with no choice but to push forward. Smiack was a narrow, winding tunnel that could only fit two people at a time, and because of the long years of abandonment, the tunnel started wearing down. Any slightly bigger movement would make debris fall, and one would worry about the whole place caving in on them.

Letho and Roy treaded forward carefully, and a few turns later, they came to a brightly lit clearing. There, a sheathed sword was quietly leaning against the wall. "Looks like Brovar held up his end of the bargain. This recon is worth it."

Letho managed to find out about the truth after casting Axii on Seville earlier. Turned out Brovar wasn't exactly trying to make enemies out of them, but at the same time, he didn't want to see them again because of his son's murder. He ordered Seville to lead them to Smiack for some monster killing. At the same time, he was trying to vent his fury on them. As for the banquet, well, the dwarves would have a lovely time. Letho didn't care about it, nor did he want to attend a banquet where he wasn't welcome.

Roy changed his opinion about Brovar ever so slightly after he saw the sword, but Letho scoffed. "You give him too much credit. The only reason he gave us this was to maximize his own gain."

"But having this sword is going to make getting through this place easier." Roy went up to hold the handle, but the sword's weight almost dragged him down. He took a deep breath and yanked the sword out of the sheath, revealing a blade of perfect craftsmanship. The blade was gleaming blue, and it was weirdly humming with joy after being released from its sheath, as if there were a spirit sealed within it.

Roy held the handle with one hand, while the other supported the blade. He tilted his head and looked parallel to the sword. Then he held the crossguard with both hands and pinched it. The blade was smooth and gleaming, and the crossguard had gorgeous engravings on it. The handle was just long enough to be held with both hands, but the sword was also usable with one. Its length was halfway between a longsword and a one-handed sword.

The sword's body didn't have any grooves, but instead the ridge was protruding, strengthening the sword. The part connected to the crossguard wasn't sharpened, so Roy could hold it without a glove. That opened up more options for him in battle, and the tip of the blade was the shape of an isosceles triangle.

Roy loved the sword, and a message popped up in his job interface.

'You have obtained Gwyhyr. You may bind this steel sword to you. Do you wish to bind Gwyhyr to you?

Gwyhyr

Type: Steel sword

Materials: Black iron, lava, meteoric iron, pine wood, and body parts from powerful monsters

Details: The sword weighs 3.06 pounds, and its handle measures at 9.3 inches, while the blade comes in at 36 inches. A spirit dwells within.

Circulation: Heals the user for a small amount of stamina after every kill.

Do you wish to bind the sword?'

Yes. Right after that, an invisible ripple pierced through Roy, electrifying him, and he could feel a connection to the sword he was holding, as if it were an extension of his own body. When he closed his eyes, he saw another item that gleamed blue in his consciousness. Roy had a feeling he could feel where Gwyhyr was no matter the distance between them. He held the sword for a while, immersing himself in its beauty. 𝗯𝗲𝗱𝗻𝐨𝐯𝗲𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

When he was done admiring its beauty, Roy reluctantly handed it to Letho. It would be a waste to keep the sword by his side when he hadn't learned anything about swordsmanship. "I'll lend it to you for now, Letho." As long as Letho had the sword with him at all times, Roy would know his location no matter where he was. At least they wouldn't get separated then.

Letho took the sword carefully and placed it at eye level to make a close observation. What he saw surprised him, for Gwyhyr was perfect in every aspect relative to his own sword. "Brovar gave this sword to me, boy. I don't remember giving it to you."

"Well, what's mine is the school's," Roy said sheepishly. "And the same thing the other way around. Don't sweat the details." I've bound it to me, so a mere thought is enough for me to take it back.

Letho's eyes twitched. "You can't use this, and I think we know why. There might be some tough battles ahead, so I'll be using this for now." He tied the sword to his back, and it gleamed alongside his own sword. "I should teach you about swordsmanship once we get out of here."

They went ahead, feeling slightly at ease. Letho was leading the way, raising a torch above his head, while Roy took the rear, crossbow in hand and ready to shoot. Half an hour later, they slowly came to a plateau, and the tunnel was widening. Finally, they jumped down a ledge and arrived at a huge cavern.

It was man-made, and a few tunnels were spread out on the wall before them. There were decayed stone altars in the cavern, and the ground was littered with hoes, broken tents, and clothing. The oil lamps and extinguished sconces hanging on the walls spoke of the cave's former glory, now reduced to ruins. Ores of different colors were buried in the walls of the cavern, and some of them were glowing a hauntingly beautiful blue.

Letho picked one up and fiddled with it, and he clicked his tongue. "No wonder they wanted us to explore this place for them no matter what. Abandoned mine my arse. This is a rich mine, one with immeasurable value. No, wait. Something stinks."

On the other hand, Roy tripped while he was lighting up the torches. He looked down and was shocked to see the thing that made him trip. "This is a corpse!" A corpse rolled out from the fallen tent, and there was barely any flesh left on it. Roy could almost see the whole skeleton.

Letho put the ore down and checked the corpse without complaint. "This mine is a lot hotter than Mount Carbon, or it wouldn't have decomposed at this speed. But this guy probably only died last month."

"What are you trying to say?"

Letho answered solemnly, "Those bastard dwarves sent other humans aside from us on recon missions in Smiack. No, they sent them to their deaths."

"So Brovar is just coexisting with humans on the surface." Roy found it unacceptable. "He sees humans as nothing more than exploitable tools." We are different species after all. It's not beyond him to see us as nothing but cattle.

Letho went on with his observations, ignoring Roy. "A human male. Probably around thirty years old. Right calf and left arm were torn off, and he was disemboweled. There are some bite and claw marks on his neck. Take a look, boy."

Roy hunkered down to check the corpse, and he quickly scanned through his memory to see if there was any possible monster that fitted the bill. "Judging from the wounds, the killer must be a necrophage, but which one?"

"Look to your left." Letho pointed at Roy's left, and the boy peered in that direction, and he realized there was a blue fungus there.

"Longrube?"

"Remember what I told you? The things that appear in a place are usually the weakness of some particular monster."

Roy's eyes shone. "Longrubes can be used to concoct necrophage oil, so we're dealing with ghouls here? No, the wounds don't look like they were caused by ghouls. We're facing nekkers!"

The moment he said that, a loud screech came from one of the tunnels around them, stopping Roy's train of thought.

"Prepare for battle! Let's see what this sword can do." Letho stood up and held Gwyhyr with both hands, and then he swung it forward, causing the air itself to hum from the slash.

Chapter 73

A hideous creature crawled out from the cave, gurgling. It looked humanoid, but its limbs had sharp claws, and its skin was wrinkly and dark. Its muscles were engorged, and it was naked aside from the piece of tattered cloth covering its crotch. Its eyes were as big as saucepans, and they had no pupils. Its teeth were long and disgustingly yellow, forcing its mouth to stay open. The flesh beneath its chin and neck extended down to its chest, not unlike the jowls of the elderly.

'Nekker

Age: 5

HP: 60

Stats:

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 5 (Strength in Numbers +1)

Constitution: 6

Perception: 4 𝒃𝒆𝙙𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Will: 4 (Strength in Numbers +1)

Charisma: 2

Spirit: 3

Skills:

Corroding Venom Level 1: Nekkers live in places teeming with corpses and decaying flesh. Thanks to that, their claws are imbibed with a special venom that can weaken its target, causing the target to heat up.

Strength in Numbers (Passive): Whenever nekkers move in packs, they gain +1 in Dexterity and Will.

Evolve (Passive): Once a nekker has consumed enough flesh over time, it will evolve into a nekker warrior.

The nekker screamed at Letho and Roy, and then it crouched and pounced at them from the ledge. Letho charged ahead with his sword in hand. He cleaved through the air with Gwyhyr, and the gleaming blade sliced through the nekker like butter. The monster was sliced in two at the waist, and blood spurted from its wound, flying ahead as its body fell with a thud. Despite having killed a nekker, only a single drop of blood trickled down the blade, and it still remained gleamingly clean.

That's a gnome-made sword for you. Roy praised it silently, and he aimed his crossbow at the remaining nekkers that were coming from above, and then he pulled the trigger. The bolts soared through the air, but he could feel the lines that connected him to it. For some reason, he could feel the speed, trajectory, and how long the arrow had flown in the air. He knew if he could hit the target the moment he pulled the trigger, and as expected, all the nekker could do was screech as the arrow pierced its head.

'You killed a nekker. EXP +20.'

Roy reloaded his crossbow and glanced at Letho. Gwyhyr was humming with each swing, as if a battle-hardened spirit were singing in joy. Letho took a step forward and kicked the third nekker before chopping its head off in one clean sweep.

The three nekkers were killed in moments, but the battle was far from over. One nekker is easy to deal with, but five is going to be dangerous, while ten is fatal. Looks like we came across a nekker nest, huh? Roy looked up and saw a group of four nekkers crawling out from the tunnels before them. They were gurgling and baring their fangs at Letho and Roy, and if it weren't for the fact it was a dangerous situation, Roy would have laughed at the way the nekkers were running. They were hunched, and they waddled like ducks to a pond.

Despite their weird way of charging at their prey, they were moving faster than an average human, and there seemed to be no end to them, much to Letho's chagrin. "You'll have to look out for yourself. This is going to be a tough battle."

"You too." Roy went up the slope behind them and took the high ground. He activated Crossbow Mastery, and coupling that with Massacre would increase his damage by twenty-five percent. One shot to a nekker's vitals would be enough to send them to hell. On the other hand, Letho stayed in the same spot, facing the nekkers head on. He quickly cast Quen before hunkering down and pressing to the ground. The purple circle of Yrden glowed, slowing the nekkers' onslaught drastically.

Letho lunged ahead and slashed upward, slicing the nekker before him into two halves, its blood spraying into the air. Then he stepped back, staging in Yrden's range, and he slashed down diagonally, disemboweling two nekkers at the same time. The nekkers kept crashing down on him like waves, but Letho was like a reef, unmoving and stable. He was the first and last line of defense.

Then three nekkers came at him at the same time. He took a deep breath and turned more solemn than ever. He loosened his left hand's grip on the handle and tightened his right's, and then he lunged ahead with his right foot and spun around, slicing the chest of a nekker open. Once the revolution stopped, he backed off into Yrden's range and spun counter-clockwise, finishing off the remaining couple of nekkers. Letho repeated the same attack, and it was as if the blade had become a hunter's net before him, killing the nekkers no matter how many of them tried to attack. Moments later, the nekkers' attacks slowed, and there was an empty space before Letho.

He heaved a sigh, loosened his grip, and then tightened it again. Letho spun his numb elbow and cracked his neck. His leather armor was already covered in blood, and he was starting to get tired. His arm would throb when he moved because of the wound that hadn't fully healed up yet, and a nekker found the opening. It clawed at Quen, making the shield dim considerably, but Letho quickly replenished it, though more nekkers were coming at him.

One of them got lucky and was only injured by the blade. It pounced on Letho's shoulder, but an arrow then pierced through its head.

Roy was still on the slope, firing down any nekkers that escaped Letho's attacks, and none of his arrows missed. His EXP bar grew fiercely, gaining one hundred EXP in two minutes (Level 3 Witcher (430/1500)).

His heart was pounding within his chest, his blood roaring in his head, taking his excitement to a peak, and Roy was in the zone. His limbs almost caused afterimages to appear because of how fast he was in reloading, and then he pulled the trigger again. The arrow flew ahead, filled with the strength from the crossbow, and also his soul. The bolt tore through the air like lightning, and the nekkers were too slow to react. A moment later, one of the monsters' head had a hole in it, blood and grey matter flowing from it.

But the bolt didn't stop at one nekker. It pierced through the chest of another, destroying its heart, netting Roy nearly forty EXP. And then dizziness washed over Roy. When he snapped out of it, one nekker was already a few feet away from him, the stench of its breath almost palpable, and its claws aimed for Roy's chest. If the attack were to connect, Roy would be killed or gravely injured, at the least.

Even so, Roy didn't show any fear. His eyes gleamed crimson as he cast his new skill, Fear. The nekker stiffened up and lost control of its body, as if hit by a sledgehammer. Roy easily dodged the attack and shot a bolt through the side of its head.

'You killed a nekker. EXP +20.'

Roy held up his crossbow and laughed to himself. "Looks like I'm not totally useless in close quarter combat now."

Letho managed the mêlée combat, while Roy took the stragglers out with his crossbow. The witcher cleaved through the nekkers easily, while Roy kept firing his bolts, taking out the nekkers with terrifying speed. Five minutes later, not a single nekker was left standing, and their bodies were strewn throughout the cavern. Some lost limbs, some were cleaved in half, some had holes in their vitals, but none died a good death.

The bloody witcher and Roy were sitting back to back among the bodies, the boy panting heavily.

"That's Gwyhyr for you. It slices through the nekkers' bodies and bones like nothing. I can feel a weird sensation coursing through me every time I kill one of them. If it weren't for that healing effect, I wouldn't have lasted as long as I did, but you did spectacularly too, boy." Letho took out his wineskin and gulped some liquor. Some of it trickled down his chin. "Looks like the fight with the leshen helped you quite a bit." He tossed the wineskin to Roy.

Roy accepted it and drank the dwarven liquor. Some color returned to his face, and he felt liquid courage bubbling within him. "We should work like this more."

Letho gave him a look of approval. "Rest up. The real battle is still up ahead. I bet there are nekker warriors in those tunnels, so don't let your guard down just yet."

Roy gave it some thought. I killed ten nekkers just now, netting two hundred EXP, and now my EXP bar is (530/1500). Nekker warriors are more dangerous than their normal counterparts, but that means the EXP gain is better too. For some reason, he thought Brovar Hoger was a great guy for sending him on the recon mission. It was exactly what Roy needed to level up and grow as a witcher. "Seems like we're staying here for a bit."

Chapter 74

Letho's condition suddenly took a turn for the worse. He was still recovering from the copious amounts of potions he took in the battle against the leshen, and the wounds he sustained were still healing. The tough battle earlier took a lot out of him, and coupling that with the nekkers' venom made his condition turn from bad to worse. He leaned against the wall, looking more listless than ever. It took all he had just to stand up, so he had no choice but to sit down.

Roy felt guilty seeing Letho in that state. He wouldn't have been in such a bad condition if Roy was a bit stronger.

"I can't fight in this condition." Letho sighed. He'd never felt so weak in years, and he was showing it to his disciple. For once, he looked crestfallen.

"Rest up and don't push yourself. We just cleared a whole horde of nekkers. They need time to regroup too, so I don't think they'll attack anytime soon," Roy said, consoling him. At the same time, he took out some food and water from his inventory space, sharing a meal with the witcher among the dead bodies. Then he tended to Letho's wounds with alcohol and marigold potions.

Letho observed him in silence, feeling proud of his disciple. Roy might've thought he was improving at a snail's pace, but Letho didn't think so. It hadn't been more than three months since they'd first met, but Roy had already grown from a village bumpkin to a fighter who'd faced off a few types of monsters. He could fight them face on, and even a leshen died by his hands. Sure, luck might have played a part, but that was still an astounding resumé.

Letho had never seen such blistering improvement before, not even from the best disciple in Letho's time. The moment he had that thought, Letho had more hope about the Viper School's resurrection.

"That may be true, but that's no reason to let our guard down. Look around and see if you can get any comfrey, wolfsbane, and longrube. These herbs can grow in caverns too. We don't have any alchemy items with us, so we can't make any potions or decoctions or bombs, but we can make some simple poison. One that can fuck these bastards up."

"What kind of poison is that?" Roy peered at Letho curiously. "You never told me you could make poison."

"I'm from the Viper School. Of course I'd know how to make poison." Letho shook his head. "But most monsters are immune to poison, so it makes no difference. Just focus on alchemy for now." Letho sounded reserved about poison, as if he didn't want Roy to dabble in it.

Roy nodded, pretending to agree, but he had a different idea. Poison might be useless against monsters, but they're great against humans. This knowledge could prove useful. He went around the cavern and managed to scavenge a lot of herbs. Wow, this cave has everything. Roy managed to get everything Letho asked an hour later, and he even found some rarer ones that couldn't be found easily outside, like bloodmoss and moleyarrow. He took some of everything and kept it for future use.

"Paralyzing poison works well against them. First, crush the comfrey, then extract the juices of the longrube, and then…" The cavern was brightly lit by the torches, and Letho, with Roy's assistance, brewed some paralyzing poison, the one that was the trademark of the Viper School.

Ingesting it or injecting it through an open wound could numb a monster's limb and nerves, paralyzing them. It was much better than what the butcher's powder could do. They worked together and quickly processed all the herbs. Then Roy took out a bowl from his inventory space and mixed the materials at a specific ratio, and then he stirred them. At the same time, Letho was teaching him the skills involved in the poison's brewing.

Eventually, Roy felt accomplished about the poison he was making. It was a different high from the one he got from the monster killing. It took them a while, but eventually, they managed to make a bowl of dark green, foul-smelling paste. "It's rough around the edges since we don't have any tools, but it can work." Letho checked the paste and put it beside him. "Now for the last step, the six-hour wait." But they couldn't waste six hours on nothing. "You got more space in that dimensional pocket of yours?"

"It's not a dimensional pocket, but whatever you say." Roy stopped correcting him. "Yeah, it's got loads of space." His inventory space doubled after his job change. His space was packed before that, but half of it was still empty at that moment.

"Good. These corpses might be ugly, but they aren't trash, I guarantee that." Letho scanned the corpses and handed Gwyhyr to Roy so he could cut off a nekker's head. Then Letho calmly split the head apart with his short sword and rummaged within the sticky insides. Roy felt disgusted. Is this some kind of high-end brain massage?

A short while later, Letho took out a green, hairy elliptical item that was the size of a thumb. "Lucky." He observed the item closely, his eyes gleaming. "First body, and we already got a mutagen."

"Is that a green mutagen?" Roy was surprised to see something he was familiar with appearing before him.

"Yes. A lesser one, but it's indispensable in the Trial of the Grasses. It can slightly increase a witcher's life force and toxicity resistance. Less than one in ten normal nekkers have a mutagen within them," Letho explained. "Now that we're touching this subject, you ought to know that mutagens are split into three types: green, blue, and red. And they're further split into lesser, normal, and greater. The stronger a monster is, the higher the probability of us getting a good mutagen. The green mutagen that's necessary for the Trial of the Grasses increases your life force and toxicity resistance. Blue mutagens buff the signs, while red mutagens make you more agile. Of course, the better the mutagen, the stronger the buff."

Ah, so the mutagens strengthen Constitution, Spirit, Strength, and Dexterity. He stared down in ponderance. "How many kinds of mutagens does our school use in the trial?"

"All of them, but in different ratios." Letho explained, "One to one for red and green. Blue's the least." In other words, Viper School's Trial of the Grasses would lean their increment toward Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and toxicity resistance, and at almost the same rate. Spirit saw a lesser increment compared to the first few, while the others showed little to no improvement. To put it simply, Viper School witchers leaned more toward close quarter combat and alchemy tools in battles.

I see. No wonder Letho's Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution are all over twenty. No wonder I couldn't see through the stats. Roy was then reminded of a relatively villainous school, the Cat School. Cat School witchers were renowned for their phantom-like reflexes and extraordinary swordsmanship. They probably only have red mutagens in their trial so they can put everything in strength and dexterity. Glass cannon mêlée, huh?

"What about the leshen's mutagen then?" Roy knew Letho managed to extract a blue one from the leshen's corpse, but he didn't ask.

Letho knew what he was thinking about though. "Probably using it to make a leshen decoction, or turn it into a greater mutagen for the trial. Helps with the mana, see. I'll give it to you if your will and constitution make the cut before the trial."

Roy was delighted to hear that. "Wait, does that mean different witchers of the same school will show different levels of changes after the trial? Is it because of the quality of mutagens used in the decoction?"

"Yes." Letho noticed Roy's excitement, so he calmed him down. "But the greater the reward, the greater the risk. Greedily chasing for more power is just going to make the trial all the more lethal for you. Stay calm."

Roy thought about his Full Recovery passive. I wonder…

"That's it for the trial for now." Letho pointed at the sea of corpses around them. "See if you can get some green mutagen from them. It's fine even if they're lesser ones, since they can be merged and strengthened anyway for your trial."

Roy went back to his roots in this case. He imitated Letho and split open the skulls of the nekkers, rummaging through their mushy insides. The grey matter, blood, and flesh squelched as he moved around. He felt disgusted, for monsters smelled fouler than the livestock he'd had to deal with back in Kaer.

However, he managed to keep his composure and swept through the corpses thanks to his will. After going through thirty something corpses, Roy only managed to get three lesser green mutagens. He put them in his inventory, but before he could even catch a break, Letho was already pushing him to another round of dissection.

"Nekkers are really valuable. Their hearts are indispensable in many decoction recipes. Cut them out and let them dry. Their lungs, liver, pancreas, and kidneys can be used in alchemy and some weapons forging. Those parts can add additional effects to some of the stronger weapons. Of course, the best of them will come from the leader of the nekkers."

Letho stopped for a moment. "Sorcerers use their eyes, ears, and tongues in their experiments. You can make a tidy profit by selling those. Don't forget about their claws and teeth. Once we get out of Smiack, we'll get a decent blacksmith to make arrows out of those. You'll find them to be better bolts than the ones you usually use. Oh, and their skin too — "

Roy suddenly turned around to stare at Letho, his face plastered with blood. Letho felt a chill running down his spine, and he told Roy, "I can see your pocket's full. Right, we can forget about the skin."

Chapter 75

The cavern was filled with dismembered corpses of nekkers when Roy was done with them. The boy's clothes, pants, and leather armor were drenched in blood, and even his face was caked with clumps of flesh. He tried taking a whiff of his scent, and all he could smell was the stench of sweat and blood.

He wanted to clean himself up, but Letho stopped him. "Don't waste any water, boy. We're going to be here for at least a week. Every drop counts." The witcher was wiping his sword, and he was in the same situation as Roy. Letho looked more like a bloody butcher than a dignified witcher, but he didn't mind.

"I can take the stench, but at least let me wash my hands." Roy thought about having to eat his meals with his hands caked in flesh, and that disgusted him.

"Do as you wish." Letho turned around and went back to his sword. "Nekker blood is worse than horse piss, but at least you won't die from thirst."

"Alright, I get it." Roy relented. Thirst was a more pressing matter than hunger, and that made water all the more valuable. "Fine, it's just a week. I'll take it."

"Honestly, you look more like the part now, boy," Letho commented. "You can't call yourself a witcher if you can't handle some stink." He wanted the boy to accept the circumstances more easily, so he gave an example. "Have you ever heard about zeugls?"

"I've seen that in your notes. It's a type of necrophage that looks like ooze." Roy got distracted and said from memory, "It gorges on decaying flesh, corpses, and waste products. They live in sewers, swamps, and places that are humid and squalid."

"I have a story to tell." Letho frowned as he recalled one particularly bad memory. "I was twenty years old back then, just graduated from Gorthur Gvaed. There I was, exploring the world in my hunt for monsters and fame. It was a tough journey, but eventually, I got a request. My quarry was the zeugls living around Alba. I tracked them down, of course, and know what I saw? Heaps of decaying, bloated corpses and the shit of every living being you can think of. And also mountains of waste products that oozed poison. The whole place was just one big stinkhole filled with putrid water." Letho looked disgusted. "The stench was unbearable. Even a shithole would be better than that place."

"Did you jump into that stinkhole then?" Roy noticed something, and he just had to feel smug about it.

Letho closed his eyes melancholically. "I had to. I managed to kill the zeugls and complete the request, but no matter how many times I bathed, the stench just wouldn't come off. No woman would come near me for a whole year."

"A whole year?" Roy was stupefied. "That stench lasted for a whole year?"

"Technically, Serrit and Auckes can still smell it until today."

"Oh god." Roy stiffened up, and suddenly the stench of the flesh on him smelled a lot better.

"I wasn't the exception. I've run into nearly ten witchers in my life." Letho continued, "All of them are elites of their school, and all of them have had to jump into a zeugl nest before." Roy had a bad feeling about what was to come, and Letho confirmed it. "I think every witcher has to go through that rite of passage once if they want to grow." Letho gazed at Roy. "You should jump into a shithole once to train yourself if you can't get a zeugl request."

"Alright, I get it!" Roy shouted, stopping Letho from telling him any further tales of the past. He was already feeling uneasy from the story. "I'm not going to waste any water, so stop it with the shithole! There are still some nekker hearts left. I'll deal with them!"

Letho stared at Roy quietly and smirked.

Since they couldn't tell morning from night in the cavern, Letho and Roy made quiet estimations and took watch in shifts. Eventually, they had already spent a day in Smiack. It had been more than a week since Roy had had his first potion, so Letho administered the second dose. The pain wasn't comparable to what he'd felt with the first dose, and Roy endured it quietly without passing out. He suffered no side effects, though he sweated buckets, and his muscles felt sore.

He then meditated and woke up feeling refreshed, as if the pain the day before had just been a bad dream. At the same time, the blood and flesh caked on him had congealed throughout the night.

Letho moved around to see how much strength he'd recovered. His stamina was all back, and the wounds from the nekker fight were starting to heal, so he could move around no problem. He told Roy, "Take Gwyhyr and chop up two, no, three corpses."

"Chop up?" Roy was getting fearful of the witchers' ideas. "Are you trying to feed the flesh to me?"

"No, but I won't stop you if you want to try."

"Save it for yourself." Thanks to Massacre, chopping up a small humanoid corpse was an easy task for Roy. He cut the corpses into fist-sized clumps of meat and split them into four packages kept in the tent cloth. Their paralyzing poison had congealed and been slathered onto the swords as well as three of the packages of meat.

Letho took the last package and poured it all onto Roy, covering even his hair in the rancid flesh. The fuck? Roy was surprised, to say the least. What the fuck is this? The flesh smelled worse than the feces in a shithole, and Roy started roaring, but then he came up with a possible reason for Letho doing that. "Alright, I know what you're trying to do, but at least warn me next time. This is one crazy plan."

The meat was placed outside one of the tunnels, and they crawled into it. It was narrow and shabby, made out of nothing but mud. Letho had to curl up and move forward in an awkward pose that resembled how a nekker would move. Since Roy was around five feet five, he could move freely in the tunnel, and from time to time, he'd touch the walls of the tunnel. I wonder what's on these walls. It's smooth, bouncy, and warm.

He mumbled, "I have a feeling we're walking through a monster's mouth, and deep down there is it's stomach. Can this really work?"

"Shut up. I can't keep you safe this time if we can't fool those bastards."

They moved ahead, and then they looked at each other. It's coming, they thought, and they hunkered down, holding their breath. Quiet footsteps came from ahead, and a nekker appeared from the corner a moment later. Its ears were pointy, its head bald, its teeth sharp, but it had something normal nekkers didn't — red paint on its face. It was crawling ahead using all its limbs, not unlike a spider, but Roy was reminded of Gollum.

'Nekker warrior

Age: Eight

Strength: 6

Dexterity: 5

Constitution: 7

Perception: 4

Will: 4

Charisma: 2

Spirit: 3

Skills:

Leap Attack Level 2: Has great leaping ability, allowing to attack from ten feet away. Can leap toward its target quickly, attacking it with its fangs and claws. Gains +1 in strength when leaping. Lasts thirty seconds.

Corpse Venom Level 4: Lives in places filled with corpses and decaying flesh. Thanks to that, its claws and fangs are imbibed with venom. Its attacks can weaken its target and cause bleeding.

Strength in Numbers (Passive): Whenever nekkers move in packs, they gain +1 in Dexterity and Will.

Evolve (Passive): Once a nekker warrior has consumed enough flesh over time, it will evolve into a nekker leader.

The nekker warrior noticed their movement, and it stared at them in uncanny confusion when it noticed the smell of its comrade on Letho and Roy. They stared at each other for a few moments, and the nekker accepted Roy as one of its own and left.

Roy kept his crossbow and took a whiff of the flesh on him. "I knew it. It thinks we're one of them."

"We can talk about that later. Let's get out for now. This is the right way; it showed up from there after all. Its nest must be near, so we can set up bait there."

"Okay." They took out the meat from the package and backtracked, tossing the meat as they went. The bag of meat was laid out on the floor when they came out, and Roy heaved a sigh. "Will they take the bait? They should know it's their brethren's flesh, right?"

"Didn't you notice it yesterday? Those nekkers were skin and bones. Obviously, this place doesn't have any food, and the nekkers have been starving for a long time. They're going to take the bait. This is too much of a temptation for them. Humans will kill their own when they're dying from starvation, so why wouldn't these monsters? Why do you think this place doesn't have any beasts in it?"

Roy nodded. "But I don't understand. How did we manage to fool them? Because of the flesh?"

"Drowners can't see far, and the same goes for nekkers. They rely on their sense and smell and hearing to see things, not their eyes. All they can see is an outline. Since we're covered in the flesh and blood of its kind, it should think we're one of them if we stay some distance away."

Roy was impressed by the trick Letho came up with. The witcher managed to turn the nekkers' bodies into alchemy materials, camouflage, and poisonous bait. Even though he was wounded, he could still go against the monsters using his experience. I'm still too green. Books can't tell me about this, he reminded himself.

"I'm still wounded, so take Gwyhyr with you. Don't let even a single one escape." They leaned against the cavern's wall. Letho was holding his steel sword, while Roy was holding Gwyhyr. A short while later, they heard the rustle of footsteps coming from inside. Then out came a couple of nekkers. They approached the meat curiously, sniffing it for a moment before devouring it.

And then Roy heard the boom of footsteps as a group of pale nekkers darted out of the cave to pounce at their food. The nekkers gurgled in ecstasy as they crawled on all fours toward the meat, their putrid drool dripping onto the ground. The monsters licked the clumps of flesh and engorged on them greedily, oblivious to their bodies' changes.

Thanks to the paralyzing poison, they were starting to become slower and slower, though they were still crawling out of the cave by instinct, for a bag of flesh was enticing them there. They stuck their heads out and looked down, ignorant to the danger about to befall them. Then they looked at their abnormally gigantic 'brother' in confusion. At the same time, Letho gave Roy a look, and the boy tensed, his fingers turning white.

There's an opening. Roy took a deep breath and focused on the task ahead. He raised Gwyhyr high in the air and sliced down with all his might, executing the nekker before him. Blood spurted high into the air as the nekker's head tumbled down to the heap of corpses, the last confusion still etched on its face.

At the same time, Roy kicked the headless body away to keep the entrance clear. Roy started to sweat from his neck, and his face turned scarlet with excitement. Never knew killing a monster could be that easy.

Chapter 76

Roy executed eight nekkers and two nekker warriors with unprecedented ease. Letho stayed out of his way and only dealt the fatal blow to the stragglers. He was trying to regain his strength. Once they were done, the duo went into the tunnel to finish the remaining nekkers that had fallen for the paralyzing poison's effect.

In the end, Letho's crude trap helped them execute twenty nekkers and five nekker warriors in less than fifteen minutes. Aside from getting drenched in sweat and his hands getting numb, Roy sustained zero wounds.

A nekker warrior would grant him thirty EXP, while a nekker granted him twenty. The massacre netted him a total of five hundred and fifty EXP, and his EXP bar was at 1080/1500. I'll level up soon at this rate. His face was scarlet, his breath shallow.

Letho gave him a glare and warned, "Don't take them lightly, boy. Three nekkers will spell the end of you with how you are now." ｂｅ𝚍ｎｏｖｅ𝚕．ｃｏｍ

I see. I can kill one with my crossbow, one with Fear, but I'll have to fight the last one in close quarter combat.

"You only managed to kill them easily because of the geographical advantage. This is an exception, not the rule."

"Don't worry about it." Roy nodded in calm solemnity. "I was just thinking about something great."

"Not to burst your bubble, but stop dreaming now. The guards are all dead. That's the cue for our entrance." Letho led the way, and the duo went to the end of the tunnel, leaving the bodies behind.

Eventually, they came to a clearing where all the crisscrossing tunnels congregated, and the tunnel that led deeper into Smiack was across the clearing. The duo searched the bodies and clothing around the place and managed to scavenge a hundred crowns. They kept it in their pockets before bowing to the dead.

"We won't take your money for nothing. You'll have a place to rest in peace once we're done with our business here." Roy scanned the area and tensed up when he saw what was in the northeast area.

A group of pyramids stood there, but they were made out of skeletons, and the tallest of them measured two feet. Every pyramid had at least thirty skulls, mostly from humans, dwarves, elves, and gnomes. Some came from small animals like mice and lizards. When the duo looked closer, they noticed the murky nekker fluid between the skulls that made the connection between them stronger. They were like some sick, crude, unfinished projects a madman created in an attempt to provoke. The empty holes where the eyes should've been spoke of unimaginable terror the owner must have gone through moments before their death.

"The nekkers did this? Why? To brag?" Roy tensed up, his eyes gleaming with horror and anger.

On the other hand, Letho stayed calm. "Humans are just food for nekkers, just like how livestock is to us. Rule of the jungle, boy. Don't let it get to you. Remember, all you have to do is kill them."

"You're right." Roy took a deep breath and steeled his resolve to finish the mission. They're just EXP to me too.

At the same time, Letho said, "Let's take a look. The nest should be there, and that's what we came for."

The nekkers' nest was built like a weird underground beehive, and their inner side measured three or four feet wide — enough for a few nekkers to move in and out at the same time. Letho stepped on the nest and brushed against the bouncy, uneven exterior. "Nekkers would usually give some of their prey to the nest, even if it was their brethren. That provides nutrients for the nest so it can give birth to new nekkers."

"Like the amniotic fluid." Roy craned his neck to take a look. He'd always had the urge to pry a nekker nest open to take a look inside when he'd toss a bomb into it in the Witcher game, and his wish would be granted at long last.

I wonder what's inside it. What he saw was a layer of black slurry squirming slowly, as if it were being stirred by an unseen hand. If Roy squinted, he could vaguely see a few pieces of decayed flesh floating on the surface. The stench smelled like rotten salted fish and feces that had been left under the sun for two weeks, but they didn't react to it, since they were already numb to the smell.

The cavity above the slurry looked like the insides of a living creature. Roy could see veins throbbing rhythmically within the walls, and two nekker fetuses were sticking to it, connected by the umbilical cords on their bellies. The nekkers were greedily absorbing the nutrients from the nest, and they looked like human babies from the outside of the layer of skin that was protecting them. Their eyes were closed, and they were curled up in a fetal position. However, they were larger than human babies, and their skin was an eerie blackish-green.

"Had your fill? Time for business."

"This nest is alive, isn't it? Just like how a queen bee would give birth to the young and command the workers to work."

Letho took out the last bomb, Grapeshot. "Yes, but I'm not sure if it's sentient. A lot of species had come to our world after the Conjunction of the Spheres. Many of them still remain a mystery despite our sorcerers' best efforts at researching them, even after a few centuries. Point is, new nekkers will be born in a week and run rampant in the tunnels if we don't destroy it."

Roy took the bomb from Letho and shook it, and then he hesitated. "There are two nekker babies in it."

"Do you feel pity for them?"

"No, just wishing it'd be twenty or two hundred instead. That'd make this a lot more satisfying." Roy thought about the pyramid that was made out of pure cruelty, and he slipped the bomb into the black slurry. Then, he hunkered down and covered his ears not a moment too soon, because he heard a dull roar a moment later. Reminds me of the time I tossed firecrackers into a fish pond.

He looked up, and what greeted him was an eruption of slurry, limbs, and flesh. And then it rained down, spreading the stench through the air. Roy could vaguely hear a shriek of despair from the nest, and the skull that covered the surface squirmed for a moment before shriveling up like a raisin. Finally, it turned into dust, and nothing but a layer of skin remained.

The nest burped, and smoke billowed. At the same time, Roy saw a message indicating that a hundred and ten EXP were added to his bar. So baby nekkers are worth five, while normal nekkers are worth thirty. Nekker warriors are forty EXP each, while the nest is a hundred.

'Level 3 Witcher (1190/1500).'

He noticed the number of types of monsters he had to kill to rank up had changed from five to seven. So nekkers and the nest are two different types? He was looking forward to the next hunt.

Chapter 77

Roy was squeezing a plump, green ball in his hand, the texture and warmth radiating from it making him feel like he was squeezing something erotic. Green mutagen, huh? The green mutagen was larger and deeper in color than its lesser counterpart, and contrary to its host's disgusting stench, it smelled nice — like flowers on a breezy spring morning. At least I didn't fight all this time for nothing. The nest they destroyed wasn't the only one in Smiack, or else the dwarves wouldn't have been so averse to it. Over the past couple of days, Letho and Roy had destroyed another nest that was home to thirty nekkers.

The nekkers took up one territory for each tribe, as if by instinct. They didn't help or hinder any of the other tribes in the quest for survival, or it would've posed a great danger to Letho and Roy. If that were to happen, all they could do was run. "Nekkers are disorganized without a leader. Keep your wits about you and you'll have nothing to fear from them."

Ever since they entered Smiack, Letho and Roy spent most of their time killing nekkers and only stopped for meals and rest. Roy was drenched in blood again and again, and even his face was caked in dried blood. He became leaner than before, but also more energetic and grown up. Aside from the green mutagen, the best thing Roy had gotten from the battles was his improvement in strength.

His EXP bar was 1590/1500, and a plus sign appeared after the bar, but he wasn't in a hurry to level up. He decided to keep Full Recovery as a trump card in case things went south — at least until they escaped the tunnels. The intense battles also trained him in his control over his stats, and he felt a massive improvement on that aspect. Roy could only utilize half of his body's capabilities before that, but after the battles in the tunnels, he could use sixty percent of them.

According to their schedule, they should've arrived at the heart of the tunnels on the fourth day. The duo noticed the complexity of the tunnels and the numerous routes they could've branched into during their earlier exploration. One misstep could've trapped them in for good, but the dwarves had drawn signs on places with many branches when they'd first dug the tunnels in case someone had needed it.

"Everything's fine." Letho stood before the tunnel, brushing his hand against the sign of two crossed hammers before a branch.

"That nekker stench again. Isn't there anything else in here?" Roy was getting tired of killing nekkers, so he wanted to face a different type of monster.

"Pray nothing comes to pass," Letho said seriously. "We've run out of bombs, oils, potions, and decoctions. If we come face to face with a djinn in this condition, your crossbow won't work on it, and I can't fight it alone, so all we could do is run. If we're unlucky enough to face a garkain or cave troll, it'd be the end of us."

Roy stopped feeling lucky, and they entered the cavern. It was smaller than the other ones, petite, even. It was too usual, for its walls and ground were bare. Nothing, not even a blade of grass or a stone.

"Something smells strange." Letho frowned.

Roy took a whiff and noticed a strange smell coming from the nest, but he couldn't remember where it came from. When he looked ahead, he saw five grown nekkers wandering around, and a dried nest lay behind them. It's a mini tribe. Most of the recon guys that had come from the cellar had been killed by the nekkers in the vanguard, leaving the ones in the rear without food. Starvation made them skeletal and uglier than the other nekkers.

The nekkers screeched at the sight of Letho and Roy, thinking they were food. They foamed at the mouth and leapt toward the duo. Three went for Letho, who was obviously bigger, while two went for Roy, who looked skinnier. Letho peered at them without mercy and faced them head on with Gwyhyr in hand, ready to kill, but Roy was quicker.

His bolt soared through the air, piercing the head of a nekker, and it fell with a thud.

'You killed a nekker. EXP +20.'

The second nekker had closed the distance between them before Roy could reload. He could smell the nekker's bad breath and see its ugly, yellow teeth clearly, but Roy didn't panic. His eyes gleamed crimson for a moment and he sidestepped the nekker. The nekker jolted before freezing in surprise, thereafter losing all control and slamming into the wall before it.

The cavern rumbled from the impact, and the nekker fell with a howl of pain. Roy took the chance to step on its back and jabbed a bolt into its neck, and then blood drenched Roy's glove.

"Nice."

Letho protected himself with Quen and darted into the group of nekkers. He put his weight on his left leg and spun around, slashing at the nekkers' torsos. The nekkers were still baring their fangs at him, but they were already sliced in half from the waist down, their innards squelching against the ground as they fell forward. Even so, they didn't die on the spot. The nekkers dragged themselves ahead, their innards trailing behind them. They were determined to get a bite out of Letho, their desire for fresh meat overpowering their fear and pain.

Resilient, aren't they? Roy fired three shots and filled his EXP bar even more.

'You killed a nekker. EXP +20. Level 3 Witcher (1690/1500).'

And then all that was left was the nest, but Roy could only watch as Letho went to finish the job.

He couldn't do anything without Grapeshot, so Letho had to finish it with Igni. The witcher made a red triangle in the air and sent a jet of flame streaming toward the nest, and then everything shattered. Roy blacked out, his last memory being a bright light from Igni's flames.

Eventually, Roy woke up, but everything around him was spinning, and the air was still filled with dust. His ears buzzed incessantly. When he touched his face, all he felt was something sticky. He looked at his hand and saw blood, but the worst thing was his whole body felt like it had been through a wringer, and his HP had fallen to thirty points.

Shit. There must've been a lot of flammable gas in the nest, and Igni, well, ignited it. "Fuck! How could I have forgotten what gas smelled like?" He got up with difficulty, and then a terrifying thought occurred to him.

"Letho? Letho! Are you there? Talk to me!" Shit. I got it bad even though I was some distance away. Letho must be gravely injured, at least.

Chapter 78

Roy heard someone cough on the other side of the smokescreen, and he ran toward the sound. Letho was leaning against the corner, his leather armor blown to smithereens. His arms, chest, and legs were scraped by the debris and charred by the flames, his face black with soot. He's a mess, but at least he's still alive. Their stock of potions had been used up, but Roy had three marigold potions left. Perfect. "How do you feel, Letho? Where are you hurt?"

Letho rested for a while, staring at the smokescreen with fear. "It's nothing. I think I broke a rib and some bones in my right leg. Damn. I never would've thought I'd almost die from my own sign."

Roy was astonished that Letho managed to live when he himself was injured from that distance. "You were really close to the explosion. Any other guy would've been blown to bits."

"If not for Quen, I'd be dead by now." Then he asked, "Wait, you're fine?"

"Yeah, because I was standing far away." Roy wiped some blood from his ear and showed it to Letho. "But I'm not unscathed. My whole face is bleeding, see."

"Yeah, I've never seen anyone still go around like it's nothing after sustaining that kind of injury."

Okay then.

The duo rested until the dust settled, but the cavern they were in had changed. The explosion hadn't affected the path ahead though. Instead, the left wall had caved in, revealing a weird room behind it. "Whoa, a blessing in disguise, huh?" Roy helped the limping witcher into the room. It was the same size as a single room in an inn, but the walls were smooth, obviously renovated by someone or something. There wasn't any bed or furniture within, so there shouldn't have been anyone living there. But even if there was someone in there, the wall would've been blocked in the first place. In other words, there was no exit, making the room a death trap.

"Which dumbass built this empty room in this tunnel?" Roy was disappointed. He thought they'd come across a treasure or something.

"It's probably a sorcerer's abode," Letho said. "Only those who can teleport can come and go as they please."

Roy helped Letho to the big, gleaming wall facing the entrance, and his necklace started humming the moment he touched it. Instead of the weak hum he'd felt when they'd fought the nekkers, the hum felt strong and invigorating.

"Something wrong with this wall?" Roy brushed his hand against it like Letho had, but all he felt was a hard wall.

"We have to find out no matter what. A sorcerer put a spell on this, but luckily, I have some dimeritium powder left." Letho rummaged through his satchel and pulled out a handful of grey powder. It was the enemy of sorcerers and the material for dimeritium bombs — dimeritium powder.

Letho sprinkled the dust onto the wall, and then the wall, not unlike soaked paper, turned a darker shade. The duo looked at each other for a moment before making their move. When it was fully soaked in dimeritium, ripples appeared in the center and spread out, revealing the mystery behind it, just like how a theater would raise its curtains.

The duo observed the mural on the wall in silence. On the left, an elf with a crown was standing before his throne on the podium with his arms spread, welcoming his subjects that were kneeling before him.

The mural felt cool to the touch, and then a ripple coming from it coursed through Roy. He trembled for a moment, and then, as if by magic, he found himself among the kneeling crowd in the image he'd seen. Roy looked up at the noble king above, who felt like an infinite ocean and an insurmountable mountain. Roy felt like he was just an insignificant bystander in the presence of the king.

He snapped out of it a moment later and turned his eyes to the second mural. The elf king was in there too, but this time, he was swinging a crimson sword at a group of snarling invaders, while his sea of soldiers stood behind him.

"Those are humans, aren't they?" Roy frowned. The invaders were built like humans, but they were depicted as snarling, repulsive creatures. What came next was a land drenched with blood and lit ablaze by the flames of war. The once glorious empire was reduced to rubbles, elf corpses strewn across the land, while the human executioners stood on top of the rubble, pointing their swords at the elf king's throat.

The last mural depicted the elf king who'd lost his crown, and he abandoned his sword and shot an arrow at the sun above. The sun, injured by the elf's shot, rained blood on the land. It seeped into the ground, and mysterious plants broke through the soil and grew toward the sky.

Roy fell into a long silence after he was done looking at the murals. Vivid depictions of war in all its cruelty popped up within his mind, as if by magic. Eventually, his eyes turned crimson, his breathing turned heavy, and he clenched his fists in hysteria.

Letho gave him a tight slap, and Roy yelped. He rubbed his face that was starting to swell, and his eyes were clear again. "You could have been gentler, Letho."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Letho gasped as his wound started to tear. "You might have killed yourself if I slapped you even a moment later."

"So is this mural real?" Roy knew about the world's truth, but he wanted to hear what Letho had to say about it.

"The murals tell of the history of the humans and elves," Letho said. "The legends say the humans aren't the natives of this land. They'd come from the lands of yore and killed most of the ancient races here, including the elves. In the end, they finally conquered the world, but legends were just that. Legends. The humans have lived here for many generations, so maybe they've changed how history was written to hide the truth from everyone. It's hard to say who's right and who's wrong. Most humans don't think they've invaded the lands of the ancient races though."

"What do you think then?" Roy asked.

"Me?" Letho scratched his chin. "Witchers aren't bound by their race. Most Cat School witchers were elves, you know? All we have to do is keep to our creed, no matter the history."

Letho might not have known it, but Roy did. He knew that humans did come from other continents, and most of the human settlements like Vizima and Novigrad were built upon the ruins of elven civilization. However, elves, or to be precise, Aen Seidhe, were also beings of another world. They came to the present land and killed the natives and ruled the land for a long time.

If they wanted to be more precise, the dwarves and gnomes were the real natives of the land, but they were forced to hide in a remote corner of a mountain range. Oh, the Mahakams used to be a part of the elves' kingdom too. I can see why an elven hidden room would show up here. Roy guessed, "Maybe an elven sorcerer with a grudge made this room to keep the historical records to make sure everyone who came later would know about the evil humans had done." 𝓫𝓮𝒹𝓷ℴ𝓿ℯ𝓵.𝓬ℴ𝓶

Letho nodded, but then shook his head. "That's not all there is to it. This sorcerer's goal isn't to keep history intact. Look here." Letho pushed himself up and knocked on the wall, and then he pushed his hand against it and murmured. A moment later, the winds howled in the room.

Roy looked closely and saw the mural destroyed by Aard, and when the dust had settled, something hidden was revealed.

Chapter 79

A mini plantation was behind the mural, and ten bizarre plants stood there. They were more than two feet tall, and their petals were purple and their leaves green. They radiated life and nature, and Roy noticed a lot of wilted plants on the land beside the plants.

Roy was overwhelmed by the urge to pluck the plants just by looking at them. He approached them and took a whiff, and then he felt refreshed, as if his whole body just went through a baptism session. Now I want them even more.

'Child of the Sun

Alternate names: devil's tail, feainnewedd, dwarf's affine.

Legends say a great elven archer once pierced the sun with his arrow, and the land absorbed the crimson liquid that rained from the sky. When the sun's blood came into contact with a dent on a rock, a magical plant came into existence. This is an extremely rare herb that possesses incredible effects.

Perennial plant

Age: Fifty two years old

Habitat: Mahakams, Tir Tochair, Dragon Mountains, mine caves, or abandoned mines.

Usages: 𝙗𝒆𝒅𝙣𝙤𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝙢

Can be used in the creation of beauty pills. Cures any blemishes or ailments of the skin. Guaranteed be used in the creation of antidotes. Neutralizes all poison and cause an unknown but beneficial change in the body if five ounces are consumed.

"Child of the Sun." Roy mumbled its name in confusion. He might have read a lot of the Witcher world's lore, but he wasn't omniscient. The plant he was seeing right before his eyes was something he'd never encountered before. Observe didn't provide him enough details, so he didn't know anything about the positives and the negatives of the plant.

However, he had a guess that the plant might not have been native to the world he was in. The clue was in the blood that rained from the sun in the last mural. He postulated that the plant came from another world when the elves tore into their world with their ship.

"Have you seen this plant before?" Letho was surprised that Roy knew what the plant was called. "My notes don't have this in it."

Roy kept quiet, and Letho stopped asking. He knew Roy had a lot of secrets of his own, and then he hunkered down and brushed his hand against the leaf of the nearest plant. The leaf chirped in surprise and retracted itself, sticking against the stem, causing it to bend backward, as if scalded by Letho's touch.

Roy said, "Whether by appearance, reaction to stimuli, or place of growth, they are exactly as told in the legends. Maybe this is Child of the Sun."

"Be careful." Letho pulled Roy's hand away from the plant. "Don't ruin this. It's priceless." Roy looked puzzled, so Letho hobbled around the plant and explained, "My mentor, Ivar Evil-Eye, told me that there are a few magical plants in this world that are sought after by royalty, sorcerers, and witchers, but most of them have only appeared in historical records or legends. Almost nobody has ever seen them in the flesh, and Child of the Sun is one of those plants."

Letho turned around to observe the bizarre plant. "Child of the Sun is the main ingredient in Divine Beauty and Omnipotent Antidote, two of the top potions in the alchemy world, but the recipe is lost." Letho's interest was piqued. "No poison can go up against the Omnipotent Antidote — not even our school's. It can also neutralize ancient curses. If someone had taken this to Temeria eight years ago, they could've probably lifted the curse on Princess Adda and married her before that Wolf School witcher."

"Child of the Sun can even break a striga's curse?" Roy finally understood the plant's power.

"Anyone who has a Divine Beauty can regain their youth." Letho looked astonished. "And they can retain it until the day they die. And Divine Beauty can extend their lifespan too."

"So I take this is valuable?"

"Valuable? It's priceless." Letho was reminded of yet another bad memory. "An overwhelming majority of women are obsessed with youth. They'd kill if it meant they could regain it."

Roy was disappointed though, since both of those products were useless to him, and the recipes had been lost in time. He held one of the plants in his right hand and squeezed it. The plant squirmed around in his palm, chirping in displeasure, not unlike a young lady who was being harassed.

Letho was disgruntled at how Roy was hurting the priceless plant. "What are you doing, boy?"

"Testing it out." Roy licked his lips. "The pill and antidote are useless to me anyway, since I'm going to be a witcher soon, but we have ten Childs of the Sun here." His eyes were gleaming with desire. "I don't think having one is too much to ask, and I'll bet you have the same desire, no?"

Roy was going for the change he would experience after ingesting five ounces of the plant. It's a good change. The elf on the mural shot the sun and grew the plants with its essence, so Roy thought the plants must've had a strong, unknown power. His body was urging him to swallow it. Every cell was screaming out its desire for the plant, as if eating it was a feral instinct, not unlike how a lost traveler would act when coming across an oasis in the desert.

Roy wasn't doing it recklessly either. If anything bad were to happen, he would level up at will and heal using Full Recovery. Thanks to that, Roy had the courage to ingest it without worry.

"You're desiring it, boy? Are you sure you aren't hallucinating?" Letho was perplexed, since he didn't feel any desire to consume the plant. "I have to warn you that our school doesn't know much about Child of the Sun, so nobody knows if you'll get hurt if you eat it. You might die, or worse, get cursed. You'd better think this through. I suggest you clear out your pocket to keep these babies so we can take them with us," Letho said.

"Trust me, Letho. This isn't going to be a problem," Roy promised. "And even if something goes wrong, I can deal with it." Roy had made his decision, and he uprooted a whole Child of the Sun. The plant stopped chirping the moment it was taken out, and it lolled to the side, as if it had fainted.

When he looked at the remaining plants, they screeched and covered the petals with their leaves, as if trying not to look at the villain who was about to kill them. "I feel guilty for some reason." Roy didn't act according to that guilt, for he wiped the dirt from the feainnewedd he'd plucked, and popped it into his mouth.

Chapter 80

"Hm, hm. The texture's nice." He bit through the leaves and stem easily, and a sweet juice filled his mouth as he munched on the plant. "Delightfully light and sweet." Roy tasted something else after finishing the whole plant — the sweetness of blood. It lingered in his mouth for a while before disappearing.

Roy frowned and wiped the juice from the corner of his lips, and then he saw striking crimson on his finger. It was warm, just like human blood. His frown deepened. "It felt like I just gobbled something that was alive."

He closed his eyes to feel the change in his body. A strange warmth coursed through him, but it waned after a moment. Roy certainly felt something within him, but it wasn't enough to cause a change. Nothing changed in his stats or job, though a line with a vague green hue showed up in his skill sheet. Roy could see the outline of words, but they were blinking, threatening to disappear at any time. A new skill is forming? It can't settle down because I didn't ingest enough? Roy confirmed the fact he had to ingest five ounces to see the change. I'll just eat more of it then. But I can't take them all. Gotta leave some for Letho.

He uprooted another Child of the Sun, but Letho didn't stop him. Instead, he arched an eyebrow and leaned against the wall, planning to see what Roy had in mind.

Roy ate another feainnewedd, and another, and another, and another. Once he was done with the fifth, Roy stopped eating. Then he sat down in the meditation stance and felt the changes in his body. His brows and lips were trembling as the Child of the Sun released an enormous heat wave throughout his body. His blood-caked face, neck, and forearms were turning scarlet, as if Roy were being baked in an oven.

The heat rushed to his brain, turning into thousands and thousands of lines of ancient text. He saw thousands of characters in his head, but he didn't recognize most of them, for he'd never learned that kind of alphabet. Everything was alien to him, though he could see they were rustic — ancient, even. Only a few were similar to the common speech he'd learned in the House of Cardell. To be exact, common speech was a derivative of the weird language he was seeing in his head.

He was in a trance for god knew how long, and eventually, his soul memorized all the words he saw in his mind, including their pronunciations, the way to write them, and even their meanings. Roy had mastered a language just like that. Is this an ancient language? Roy snapped out of his trance, and his instincts told him his guess was on the money.

The language he'd just mastered was ancient speech, the one elves used. But how'd I manage to do that? Is it because of the plant I ate? He turned to his character sheet and saw something surprising.

'You have ingested a sufficient amount of Child of the Sun. You now possess the talent of the Aen Elle race. You have mastered ancient speech through the legacy of your bloodline.

You have unlocked a skill:

Elegance of the Wind (Passive): Elves possess extraordinarily elegant looks and great dexterity. Charisma +1, Dexterity +1.

Charisma: 5 → 6

Dexterity: 5.1 → 6.1'

I can't believe a few plants just changed my bloodline. "So I'm not a human anymore. Well, not fully, at least." Otherworlders like him didn't mind their bloodlines. He wasn't scared about becoming a witcher, so being an elf meant nothing to him. Now I'm an elf, so what? At least I'm not a dwarf or a gnome. That would've been a shocker. And I got two attribute points for free.

He read through his character sheet again and saw that he wasn't an Aen Seidhe elf, unlike the ones residing in the witcher world. Instead, he was an Aen Elle elf from another world. The elves shared a complex relationship, but he knew that Ciri, the blessed girl, managed to travel through time and space thanks to her ancient bloodline, and the source of that was the elves of Aen Elle.

Will it be possible to gain a space-time skill with this bloodline then? He shook his head and smiled. That's too far-fetched for now. I'll put it aside.

Letho had been watching Roy quietly, and he noticed the slight changes in Roy's air and face. Roy's face had turned fairer and glossier. Not even the dried blood could cover it, and his ears seemed to grow longer and pointier, though he'd have missed it if he hadn't looked closer. When Roy opened his eyes again, Letho could see a galaxy in them.

He's more conspicuous than before. "How do you feel, boy?"

"Great!" Roy leaped up and stretched his arms before doing a backflip. "I feel more flexible and balanced. And I mastered ancient speech."

"Ancient speech?" Letho observed him. "Your looks have changed a bit too after eating those plants."

"Where in particular?" Roy touched his cheeks, nose, eyes, and lips, but he felt nothing different. I'll have to get a mirror.

"You look more sculpted now, and your ears got a bit pointy. That's how a typical part-elf looks like." And then realization struck Letho. "I see. Child of the Sun is one hell of an invention. It can even change a human into a part-elf," he mocked. "Humans toppled their rule, and they came up with a plant that could turn humans into elves? That was a good plan, I'll have to admit, but since they couldn't mass-produce them, it failed. You probably mastered ancient speech through the legacy of your bloodline." Letho stopped for a moment to look at Roy. "You might just become something big, boy. Most part-elves are."

Part-elves were born when either one parent was half-elf, or both of them were. Part-elves were more humanlike than half-elves, so they didn't look very much like elves. Thanks to that, they could blend in with humans easily. Only extreme racists would discriminate against them on the grounds that they weren't humans.

Yennefer of Vengerberg, Falka who caused bloodbaths in the northern empires, and Vernon Ryan, the revolutionist leader, were all part-elves.

"I'd rather you not joke that way, Letho." Roy was worried about something else. "Can part-elves undergo the trial?"

"Don't worry. That's not a problem at all. In fact, being part-elf can be a boon," Letho said. "You'll have a drastically extended lifespan. I'd say you'll live until a hundred and twenty or thirty if you don't get into accidents or have any terminal illnesses."

Roy thought about it silently. Is that the benefit of being a half-blood? "Since it's good for you, why don't you finish the rest? They're useless now since the recipes for the meds have been lost in time. Not like we would have any use for them even if they could be made."

Witchers usually looked like they were in their mid-thirties or forties for a century or two. Most didn't even get that far in life, since battles would claim them earlier than a natural death would. That made Divine Beauty redundant. Witchers had a high resistance to poison, and that made Omnipotent Antidote useless.

Letho hesitated slightly before uprooting the chirping plants, and then he feasted on them. However, much to their surprise, nothing changed even after he ate four of them, whereas Roy had felt a surge of warmth after having a single plant.

Child of the Sun didn't do anything to Letho.

"Hm, I wonder why? The mutation, perhaps?" Roy mumbled. Witchers technically weren't humans anymore, since their organs and genes mutated after the trial.

"Maybe the change only works on humans." Letho noticed it and stopped eating. Instead, he asked Roy to keep the last one in his inventory space.

"I wonder if that sorcerer would kill us if he found out what we did to his feainnewedd farm." Roy put Letho's arm around his shoulder and moved forward with painstaking effort.

"Highly unlikely. It'd been more than ten years since the barrier had been strengthened, so it'd been weak. The sorcerer is probably dead," Letho answered. That sorcerer put in a lot of effort to make that room, but we reaped the rewards in the end. Is this also fate?

Child of the Sun had another hidden effect that was only made known that night when Roy meditated. It was the first time he meditated after his bloodline change, and compared to the shallow meditation that only healed him, the meditation this time took him deeper into the zone, making him come into contact with the truth of the world.

Roy's consciousness entered a densely dark zone, the novelty reminding him of his first mediation. The air around him was almost viscous, and he could see ripples that tied his consciousness down, stopping him from moving around. Then, a small flame ignited in the darkness. It was far, far away from Roy, and a single breath would be enough to extinguish it. However, it was resilient, and it approached Roy bit by bit, the astounding heat and destruction within it getting more pronounced with each passing second.

And then a yellow light appeared. It was stable and anchoring, just like the earth. Then a green one moved around nimbly, just like the wind, and finally, a blue one that calmed and soothed him, just like water. Water, earth, fire, and air. The four elements were closing in on him. If Roy's soul had tentacles, he would have tried to grasp the elements. 𝐛𝐞𝗱𝗻𝐨𝐯𝗲𝗹.𝐜𝐨𝐦

The elements were just teasing him though. They swirled around him and took a whiff before disappearing into the dark. "No!" Roy almost stopped his meditating state, but he clung on and held on to the minuscule elements around him. He could feel the elements trying to touch him, to dance and talk to him, but they seemed shy and hesitant.

"Stay!" Roy roared silently, but that shocked them, and the last of the elements slipped away into the darkness, despite Roy's protests. "Dammit!" Roy ended his meditation, looking frustrated. "Just a little bit more! Just a bit more and I could have grasped them!"

However, he had a feeling he could build a connection with the elements as long as he mediated and kept trying. Maybe I can even unlock my mana pool before going through the trial. But at least this is an improvement. Child of the Sun did change his bloodline for the better. Roy had been absolutely talentless at magic before, but now, he had a bit of a chance to connect with the elements after ingesting the plants.

Chapter 81

The duo went further into the tunnels for Melitele knew how long after Roy was done eating the plants. Since their supplies were running low, they estimated it'd been four days, so they'd been in the tunnels for nearly a week at that point.

Letho managed to walk by propping up his broken leg with his short swords and a piece of cloth while using Gwyhyr as a crutch.

Luckily for them, the journey was peaceful; the monsters must've died from extreme starvation. The stagnant air finally began to flow, and that told them the exit must've been near. They were close to the surface, close to leaving the darkness of the tunnels behind.

"Shh." When they arrived into a bigger cavern after going through the narrow tunnel, Letho shushed Roy and put out his torch. Roy looked to where Letho was pointing, only to vaguely see a nekker warrior dragging its hands around the entrance.

The nekker warrior was obviously bigger and stronger than the ones they'd faced before. It probably ate more than its brethren. It looked like an ugly, burly, hunched man, prowling like a guard dog. Its eyes were gleaming in the darkness, its nose twitching. And then it inched closer to the duo when it smelled their scent.

But before it could get closer, Roy pierced its head with a bolt, and it fell with a thud.

'You killed a nekker warrior. EXP +30.'

Roy kept his crossbow before going to take his spoils, but Letho held his shoulder. A moment later, two more nekkers came out of the tunnel, and then a bloody scene followed.

They didn't notice the duo, and they were attracted by the fallen nekker warrior's body. The pair took a whiff before pouncing on it. One of the nekkers gnawed on the neck, while the other dug into the thigh. Their sharp teeth easily tore through the body's skin, severing vessels and flesh. And they gobbled everything down before looking up to the sky to swallow the flesh.

When they were done, they licked their lips clean with their lizardlike tongue before going for another bite. The cavern was silent, aside from the sounds of chewing and tearing. Flesh and blood spewed everywhere, turning that spot into a gory mess. About thirty seconds later, a considerable part of the body had been devoured, leaving nothing but bones behind. The nekkers stopped after eating a fifth of the body, and they dragged the remains into the tunnel behind them.

"Those nekkers looked starved." Roy gasped, a chill running down his spine. "Why didn't they finish it?"

"Nekkers have a clear hierarchy." Letho coughed. "Much like lions and wolves, the higher echelons enjoy the meat first. In this case, the warriors and leaders have the privilege to feast first. Once they're done, they'll give some to the nest, and then the normal nekkers eat last. Those guys didn't take too much because they didn't want to anger their boss." He heaved a sigh. "They were eating the body so they could evolve. Those kinds of creatures benefit from devouring the flesh of those more powerful than them. Evolution's more important to them than the desire to feast."

Roy nodded, but then his face fell. "They have a boss? I hope it's not a nekker chieftain." Nekker chieftains were stronger and harder to handle than warriors. A single chieftain could rally the disorganized nekkers and have them work together.

The duo waited for half an hour before approaching the feasting ground. The body left trails of blood and flesh, so the duo wiped that all over them before drawing five diagonal lines on their faces.

Then they hunched and trudged inside, not unlike the nekkers. After turning a few corners, they came to an exit and saw the light at the end of the tunnel. The exit was right there, but what they saw made their faces fall.

Thirty feet away, light illuminated the group nekkers sprawled on the ground. They were entwined, squirming, grunting, not unlike pythons in heat. There were at least ninety of them, making them the biggest tribe the duo had ever seen.

The body that was dragged in by the nekkers earlier was placed behind the sleeping tribe, where their nest rested. Most of the body had been devoured, and the ribcage was revealed. Roy was reminded of mutton and beef on display. Sitting beside the nest was a green nekker whose skin looked like armor. It was supporting its chin with its hand, and its eyes were closed, as if it were a thinker. It could've been one, if not for its thunderous snoring.

As its chest heaved, its fangs would reveal themselves from time to time. Normal nekkers were only five feet four, but the green nekker was six feet. It was taller than all the others. Even when it was asleep, it exuded a cruel, violent air.

'Nekker chieftain

Age: Twenty years old

HP: 100

Strength: 8 (Strength of Greed +2)

Dexterity: 6 (Strength in Numbers +1)

Constitution: 10 (Strength of Greed +3)

Perception: 5

Will: 5 (Strength in Numbers +1)

Charisma: 2

Spirit: 3

Skills:

Leap Attack Level 8: Nekkers have great leaping ability, allowing them to attack from ten feet away. It can leap toward its target quickly, attacking it with its fangs and claws. It gains +2 in Strength when it leaps. Lasts thirty seconds.

Corpse Venom Level 8: Nekkers live in places filled with corpses and decaying flesh. Thanks to that, their claws and fangs are imbibed with venom. Their attacks can weaken their target and cause bleeding as well as heat them up and cause intense pain.

Strength of Greed (Passive): Nekker chieftains have ingested a great amount of flesh and have undergone two evolutions. They possess far superior life force and strength compared to normal nekkers. Constitution +3, Strength +2.

Strength in Numbers (Passive): Whenever nekkers move in packs, they gain +1 in Dexterity and Will.

Leader (Passive): Nekker chieftains are the leaders of nekkers. Nekkers lower in rank can't go against its orders.'

Shit, Roy cursed silently. After all the battles they'd fought, they'd run out of bombs, potions, and oils. To make things worse, Letho was out of commission, and it took all he had just to move around. How are we supposed to fight them? They have a chieftain with them.

He pondered on a way to escape. There was only one option left. They had to go through the squirming swarm without alerting even one of them, or they'd be dead if they were swarmed. Roy squinted in an attempt to see a way out, even if the way was a narrow path.

Letho suddenly tugged at him and gave him a look that said 'Get back inside.'

Letho stared into his eyes. "Listen to me, boy. You're going to leave by yourself later," he commanded. "You're agile enough to get past them silently and quickly. Nekkers don't sleep for long. If you miss this chance…"

"But what about you?" Roy interrupted, looking at Letho's fractured right leg. "You got another idea?" Roy sounded excited.

"Yeah. You getting away safely is better than us getting trapped here." Letho paused. "You can get some help when you escape. I can easily hide for a bit."

"As if, Letho. You can barely walk, let alone hide from them." He shook his head, refusing. "It's not the time to play here. I'll give you a piggyback ride, and that's it." Letho wanted to say something, but Roy said, "You're asking me to be a deserter? A coward?" Roy started convincing him. "I'll be wracked with guilt if I escape alone. I'll just be another Seville Hoger. That guilt's going to haunt me forever, and if I bring it into the trial, it'll be the end of me." 𝑏𝘦𝘥𝑛𝘰𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Letho took a deep breath. He got me good. "Very well then. We shall fight together once again."

They tiptoed to the nekker heap to observe them for a while. Most of the nekkers were entangled tightly, leaving no space, but there were some small spots between arms, legs, or the nekkers. Just enough for them to stand in. They looked ahead and managed to find an escape route, though a narrow one.

Roy nodded at Letho, and then they started moving. Letho was two times heavier than Roy, so giving him a piggyback ride was no small feat. Roy felt like he was being crushed by a small hill, his face turning scarlet, and his veins bulged.

Roy's breathing turned heavy, but he kept his mouth shut. He puffed his cheeks, gritted his teeth, and tried his best not to make a sound. When he put his left foot into the space between two nekkers, a terrible stench assailed him.

Roy could see every inch of the nekkers' faces, and they were hideous. They were filled with blotches, and their skin was disgustingly rough. They wore nothing but loincloths, the bloated flesh of their bodies in full sight. Their mouths were filled with sharp fangs that had flesh stuck between them.

He never expected to observe a living nekker at such a close distance, but it was terrifying. He was worried they would suddenly open their eyes and attack him, but that was just his imagination.

Roy solidified his legs' grip on the ground before taking a ten second rest. Then he stepped into the space between the nekkers' arms. But the moment he did, a single drop of sweat fell into one of the nekkers' open mouth.

The nekker smacked its lips, its face scrunching. At the same time, Roy took a deep breath and stood rooted in place. Letho extended his hand over Roy's shoulder, getting ready to cast Axii, but he didn't have to. A few moments later, the nekker turned around to hold its companion's legs and snore.

The same thing happened a few times, and it felt like the journey had taken an eternity. They felt like a guillotine was hanging over their heads, ready to lop them off at any given moment. One misstep or grunt could spell the end of them.

However, Roy managed to control himself well thanks to his Dexterity. His Spirit helped him keep focus, while his Will resolved him to take every step without fear.

A long while later, someone said in Roy's mind, 'You have passed the third trial — The Nekkers' Hotbed.'

There were only twenty feet left, but it took Roy five minutes to finish them. Exhaustion caught up to him the moment he let Letho go. He bent over with his hands on his knees. His chest heaved, and sweat trickled down his legs. Every cell in his body felt hot and sore, but when he looked back at the nekkers, he felt accomplished. I made it through without leaving my comrade behind.

But it wasn't time to celebrate. They quickly went past the chieftain, and it didn't seem to notice them. The chieftain still had its eyes closed, as if it were deep in thought. Eventually, they arrived at the exit, but it could only fit one person at a time, so Letho went ahead while he took the rear. However, a short while later, alarm bells started ringing in his head, so he turned around.

Standing at the tunnel's entrance was the chieftain. It was tilting its head toward Roy, observing him. Its back was hunched, and one of its claws was hanging above the ground, while the other was before its chest. Its gigantic eyes gleamed smugly, and a grin broke out on its face. Then it laughed.

Roy was smeared in nekker blood, but his camouflage was only effective with normal nekkers, not the sly chieftain.

The chieftain let out a loud screech, and the tribe of nekkers awoke. Whipped into frenzy, they crashed into the tunnel, ready to kill the duo.

Roy sighed. I guess we can't run. He gave up on escaping. He could escape alone, but that meant he would have to leave Letho for dead. The only way left is to fight.

Chapter 82

Fortunately, the tunnel could only fit one person at a time, so Roy could pick the nekkers off one by one. He fired a shot, the first nekker dying on the spot, a hole bored through its head. That didn't stop the attack, for the second nekker quickly leaped across the corpse and pounced at him on all fours.

Roy couldn't reload in time, so he put his weight on one leg and swung his crossbow from right to left. Gabriel slammed against the nekker's chin and crushed all its fangs. The nekker fell back, howling in pain.

"Switch with me, boy! Take the rear!" Letho said hoarsely. He cast Agni, and the circle illuminated the tunnel, slowing down the nekkers. "My leg's hurt, but my arm isn't."

"Shut up, Letho." Roy gripped his crossbow before grabbing the air and brandishing Gwyhyr out of nowhere. "I can't hide behind an injured man like a coward. Time for me to protect you now." He thrusted the sword forward, stabbing the nekker's chest. Then Roy kicked the nekker and yanked his sword out. The blood splattered across his face, but he didn't care. His eyes started turning crimson from the mess.

Then he slashed diagonally, and the blade sliced through the nekker's chest like butter. Fighting in a narrow tunnel was great, since there was no place to hide. All he needed to do was swing the sword around, and it'd hit a target. However, since his strength and technique were inferior to Letho's, he couldn't slice the nekkers in half in one blow.

That flaw gave the nekkers a chance to attack. Even though their entrails were already spilled, they managed to claw at his left arm and drew blood. Roy winced.

The scent of blood worsened their frenzy. The nekkers pushed their fallen comrades ahead like they were shields, slamming into Roy. Gwyhyr was stuck in the meat shield, and before Roy could get it out, he was pushed back by a great force. He was still far too weak compared to a tribe of nekkers.

Then Letho supported Roy from the back. He tried to hold himself up despite his bones almost being broken. He forced his muscles to give him one last push, and he stood up. At the same time, he extended his right arm across Roy's shoulder before making a blue triangle in the air, and then he pushed it forward.

The air itself exploded, and Aard's impact sent the nekkers flying back, clearing the ground for them. "Fine. If you're not backing off, then stay in the vanguard. I'll cast the signs whenever you need it."

"Alright!"

The duo worked together once more, though their positions had switched. Roy, who had always been the rear guard, was standing in the vanguard, attacking with Gabirel and Gwyhyr, changing his weapons to fit the situation. Sometimes he'd bore a hole through a nekker's head, then he'd change weapons and slice their body open. 𝑏𝘦𝘥𝑛𝘰𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Blood was starting to drench him, and wounds were starting to pile up, but Roy showed resolve by refusing to take a step back. Letho stayed behind him, using his battle experience to cast signs in the most appropriate situations so he could sustain himself longer. He kept Yrden up at all times to slow the nekkers, making them easier to kill.

If it were just a single nekker attacking Roy, he'd cast Axii to confuse it, creating an opening for Roy, but if they came in a group, he'd send them flying with Aard.

It didn't take long for them to mesh well together. Two minutes later, more than fifteen nekkers lay dead at their feet, but new nekkers clawed their way through a few moments later.

Once again, Roy stabbed a nekker's eyes with Gwyhyr, piercing its head, and then he pulled the sword out. Blood trickled down the blade, and at the same time, it was trickling down Roy's trembling wrist. His breathing was heavy, and he started wobbling.

The battle hadn't been long, but already his chest, shoulders, and arms were wounded. The nekkers' venom started to work, making matters worse. He felt himself heat up, and pain coursed through his body like needles. His strength was leaving him, and his vision started to blur. And if that wasn't bad enough, Letho was almost running out of mana.

Then, Roy vaguely saw a big monster come out of the nekker wave. It roared at Roy before pouncing on him, like a carriage hurtling toward its destination. Roy reflexively fired a bolt at it, and it hit the target in the eye, but oddly, the shot didn't kill it. The big monster howled in pain, but it didn't falter, though the arrow stuck out of its left eye like a sore thumb.

Letho cast one final Axii to confuse it, and it was stunned for one second. Roy took the chance to stab it in the abdomen, and then he mustered the last of his strength to slash up, destroying its insides. Then blood spurted out of the wound.

Most nekkers would've lost their strength from the pain and blood loss at that point, but the big one was stronger than most. Even after being injured grievously, it could still make one final attack. It howled into the heavens and glared at Roy with malice. A moment later, it slitted Roy's throat open with its claw, and its attack didn't stop until it sliced Roy's chest open.

Roy's blood, flesh, skin, and bones flew through the air, and his blood spurted on the chieftain's face. An intense pain that was beyond the one he'd felt with the first potion coursed through Roy. He almost blacked out from it, but before he realized what was happening, he died. His eyes were unfocused, their gleam lost. All he could feel was the great darkness enveloping him, dragging him down to his final rest, never to see the sun again.

"Boy!" Letho's familiarly hoarse voice became that one little ball of light that woke him for a split second, but that was enough for him. Level up. He saw a golden light flash before him, and then every cell in his body screamed in pleasure. Roy's eyes became focused once more, and they shone crimson.

Roy cast Fear, freezing the chieftain in place. In the final moments of its life, all it saw was a boy holding a sword, aiming for its neck. As the gleam of the sword illuminated the chieftain, everything around it started to spin, and it saw a headless body standing before the boy before everything faded to black.

Blood spurted out of the chieftain's neck, and it fell back with a thud.

'You have killed a nekker chieftain. EXP +100. Level 4 Witcher (600/2000).'

Roy had leveled up, but he didn't have time to check the details, for the fight wasn't over yet. He held Gabriel and Gwyhyr, preparing to fight, but the nekker tribe ignored them. Instead, they dragged their dead chieftain's body out of the tunnel. Obviously, that was a far better reward than two humans, so the nekkers engaged in a skirmish over it. They started killing their brethren brutally all for a bigger share of the chieftain's body.

Letho snapped him out of it. "We'd better leave now, boy." He looked at Roy's chest and neck, but there weren't any wounds, much to his shock. He had questions, but those could come later. "You don't want to stay around and wait for a new chieftain to be born."

They moved ahead in the tunnel, but the nekkers didn't give chase anymore. The sun was getting brighter and brighter, while things were starting to get more lively around them. Millipedes and spiders scurried between the cracks of the boulders, while star-nosed moles were burrowing out of the cracks, squeaking at the weird creatures before it.

Roy was going ahead, working as hard as a mule. He was waiting for Letho to shoot his questions, but Letho hadn't seemed to notice the magical change that had happened in Roy. Even Roy couldn't believe it. The moment he leveled up, Full Recovery not only healed the lethal wounds, but also the injuries caused by the leshen. The skin of his injuries looked like it had been reborn. It was clear, clean, and didn't seem scraped.

His whole body was healed, inside and out. His wounds weren't the only things that went away. Hunger, fatigue, poisoning, diseases, and even the exasperation after the long battle in the tunnels, had disappeared. He was, in a sense of the word, perfect. Full Recovery is more powerful than I thought. There were a lot of new messages in his character sheet, but he'd leave that until they escaped successfully.

"Letho — "

Letho knew what he wanted to say, and a smile broke out on his blood-caked face. "I don't want to know about your secret for now, boy. Not even if you're going to tell me you're Melitele's son. You can tell me when you really want to."

The atmosphere finally returned to its peaceful state. After passing through three cobwebs, Melitele finally smiled at them. A hole appeared not far ahead of them, though it was high in the air. Dried vines and broken rope were dangling around the hole, and a broken ladder swayed beside them.

The weather became warmer after they left the Mahakams. Roy didn't feel too cold, even though he wasn't wearing much. A golden light was shining down on them. Once Roy had settled Letho down, he put his hand above his eyes and went to the space under the hole.

The light was blinding after the week of darkness in the tunnels. He had to squeeze his eyes shut when he looked up. After taking a while to adapt, he slowly opened his eyes. "Gods, are you kidding me? I can't fly."

Fate seemed to be pulling another prank, for the exit was thirty feet in the air. Even witchers couldn't jump that high, and they were a lot stronger than most people. Roy was most people. He could see the blue sky, the glaring sun, and some dried grass through the hole. It was alluring, but he couldn't reach it.

"Which bastard cut the rope?" He was like a lost traveler who saw an oasis in a desert, but when nearing it, found that it was nothing but a mirage. Roy didn't want to give up, so he fiddled with the ladder. Dammit! Even if Letho could stand above the ladder and lift me up, we still wouldn't reach the exit. And with how he is right now, Letho can barely walk.

They had no choice but to give up on that exit and they went ahead, finding something a short while later. On the wall was a sign with a pair of crossed hammers on it. "Looks like Melitele hasn't given up on us."

A wall stood at the end of the tunnel, seemingly blocking their path, but a few meters ahead, the ground sloped steeply downward. Roy went to take a look and noticed an underground pond that gleamed.

The bit of light wasn't enough to shine on the whole pond, but Roy could vaguely see conical stalactite jutting out of it, as if they were the fangs of a beast. It was a nice pond, but its surface and the ground around it was covered in heaps of foul excrements. The pond was a shithole made by the nekkers. This is probably one of their toilets. It's flowing, so it probably leads outside. How else would those nekkers get their food? But a shithole at the end of the tunnel? Is this a joke? Roy felt disgusted, and he had a bad feeling about this.

"No. I have to find a way to escape through that hole. I can tie a rope to Gwyhyr and toss it up. Th-that might work."

"Keep this for me, boy." Letho unraveled the bandage around his leg and handed the short sword that was holding it in place to Roy.

"Okay." Roy kept the short sword and looked at the pond again. "Why did you do that though?"

"We don't have time for questions. Can you swim?" Letho asked.

"Yeah. My home's near a river, you know. I always went swimming." Roy was talking about his previous world. "Hey, wait." He knew something was up, so he made a break for the hole, but Letho was faster. He pulled Roy back and shoved him into the pond.

Roy's eyes widened in horror, and then he held his breath and scrambled to grab something, but to no avail. He fell into the pond with a splash, plunging into the area with foul-smelling water.

"Congratulations. You're one big step closer to being a witcher now." Letho hunkered down and took a deep breath before jumping into the pond after Roy.

Chapter 83

The morning breeze blew across the vast plain, kissing the billowing smoke coming from the village afar, and it trailed toward a stream at the end of a roaring waterfall. The golden sunlight shone on the earth, but more particularly on a young man's naked body.

The young boy was clutching his stomach as he retched into the stream. His face was pale, and there was nothing but bile left for him to puke. At the same time, he glared at the bald man on the grasslands who was resting his eyes and using his hands as pillows. The bald man was also in his birthday suit, but his sturdy build kept him safe from the cold wind's assault.

"You're still not done yet? Man, even dwarves can't beat you in drinking, I see."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks to you." And he puked again.

"I saved you, though."

The underground stream was deep and long. Roy had almost suffocated down there, but luckily, Letho had caught up to him and had taken him to safety.

"So we're even now," Letho said.

They set up a bonfire to dry themselves up. At the same time, Roy managed to find a piece of wood to keep Letho's hurt leg in place. Then he fashioned the remaining wood into a crude crutch. When he was done with all that, he sat beside the bonfire and concentrated on his character sheet.

'Roy

Age: Thirteen years and eleven months old

Status: Civilian, witcher disciple

HP: 55

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 5.1 → 6.1

Constitution: 5.5

Perception: 7

Will: 6 → 6.5

Charisma: 5 → 6

Spirit: 6.5

Skills:

Massacre Level 4

Observe Level 2

Meditation Level 2

Crossbow Mastery Level 1

Elegance of the Wind (Passive)

Job:

Level 4 Witcher (600/2000)

Rank: Disciple (Conditions for next rank: Pass the Trial of the Grasses and kill ten types of magical creatures (7/10). Next rank: Rookie witcher.)

School: Viper (Unconfirmed. User hasn't taken the Decoction of the Grasses yet.)

Job perks:

Main stat: Will. Every time you level up, your Will will be increased by 0.5 without any cost (Disciple).

Evolving Arms: You have bound Gabriel (crossbow) (leveled up), Gwyhyr (steel sword) (leveled up). Silver sword: none.

Full Recovery: You will make a full recovery every time you level up. Most injuries can be healed, including internal injuries and broken limbs. Debuffs such as hunger, fatigue, poison, plague, and curses will be removed.

Loot Package: 2 cubic meters.

You have (1) attribute point(s) and (1) skill point(s) left.

Roy powered up a lot from the spelunking in Smiack. First, he gained the Aen Elle bloodline, turning him into a part-elf, granting him +1 in Dexterity and Charisma. Aside from that, he could feel more magic when he was meditating. Next, he gained a level in his job, so his Will was increased by 0.5 automatically. He hadn't planned on making Will his main stat, but when he leveled up on the verge of death, Roy subconsciously made that choice.

Letho's Charisma was his worst stat, followed by Will. Ten points might've seemed a lot, but it was nothing compared to his other stats. In other words, it was incredibly hard to see Will increase. Will was also related to Fear's effect. As long as he kept killing monsters and leveling up Massacre, Will would become more useful. He knew Fear wasn't the only skill Will could affect. The stat description itself said Will could interfere with reality when it reached a certain point. I'm looking forward to it.

Besides, Will was crucial for his survival in the Trial of the Grasses. He'd been surprised when he'd noticed Will as his main stat, but he didn't regret it. After lots of consideration, Roy had decided to allocate everything to Constitution and Will before undertaking the trial. Letho did promise him he'd use the leshen's mutagen for the potion if Roy's physique passed the bar he set for him. Roy wanted that mutagen, so he'd do whatever he could to get it.

Roy allocated the attribute point to Constitution and the skill point to Meditation. Since Meditation's level up would add 0.5 to Constitution and Will, Roy would see a 1.5 point increase in Constitution, and a 0.5 point increase in Will. That would cause him to see a 2.5 point change in his stats, so he wanted to get used to them before adding it to his stats and skills.

Roy was about to concentrate on his bound weapons to see their change after leveling up, but his ears pricked, and he doused the flames before hiding in an alfalfa bush with Letho. A moment later, two farmers came over with their arms around each other's shoulder, and their hoes hung across their backs.

One of them looked delighted. "Did ya see that show last night? That dancer's slimmer than a snake, I tell ya, and her face is as white as snow. She's just like a goddess. I can't believe the filthy elves would have such beauty among them. What's the troupe called? Sea Lion or sumthin'?"

"It's Sea Scorpion, ya oaf!" the other farmer spat, looking oddly arrogant. "And she wasn't dancin', ya dolt. That's called tightrope walkin'! And that elf's Eveline Gallo! That's a work of art, dumbass! Usually only the rich get to watch that!"

"Ye, I ain't got nuthin' ya told me. But if there's one thing I know, it's that I'll watch it again if she's gonna perform tonight." The farmer rubbed his hands lewdly.

"Ya dolt! What if yer wife finds out about this? Ya gonna starve!"

"I'm gonna wreck her pussy if she does that, just ya see." The farmer came to the alfalfa bush and took his pants off, revealing his soft member. "Look at this. It's bigger than ol' Dervish's donkey's. Only that elf could get it hard again." He aimed at the bush, humming with his eyes closed, then everything turned black.

When he woke up, he and his friend were lying side by side. The night breeze was caressing their naked legs and chest hair. The farmers were in nothing but their underwear, though they were holding two crowns each.

"Did someone rob us?" The money's enough to get us new clothes though. They looked at each other, flabbergasted, but then they smiled.

Roy was wearing a set of clothes that was one size too big, and he smiled wryly. "Why did I even hide from them anyway?"

"Reflex. You stayed in the tunnels for too long," Letho answered.

"I attacked civilians though. Does that count as a violation of the code?"

"Are you dumb, boy?" Letho was hobbling behind him, wearing a set of clothes that was one size too small, his chest almost bursting out. Letho pouted. "That was self-defense, got it? They'd be pissing on you if you hadn't done that. And I'm sure you don't want to go around naked."

"I-I see." I hope the crowns are enough to pay for the damages.

The weather warmed up after they'd left the Mahakams. The duo went toward the village to see if they could catch a carriage. The ground sloped downward, pointing toward a field that had a lot of cereal planted on it. Alders surrounded the field, forming a path that led to and fro the area.

As they followed the path, the duo was led to the lakeside. Hidden behind the alder trees was a pond filled with ducks that quacked incessantly. A crude pier and lonely canoe sat quietly among the reeds, while nets and traps were set in the water.

Roy stared at the ducks and licked his lips. "I've had it with dry food. Since we're staying for the night, let's get some meat." He never expected the resources on the other side of the Mahakams to be that abundant. "So, are we in Temeria now?"

Letho answered, "To be precise, we're in Ellander, though it's Temeria's duchy." He paused for a moment. "You're getting used to the toxicity after the doses, I see. We'll rest here before going to the Temple of Melitele to proceed with the trial."

Roy's heart skipped a beat. He'd been looking forward to that, but he was also worried. Roy stammered, "Um, Letho. I've always wanted to ask, but is your bald head a side effect of the mutation?" They'd been traveling together for months, but aside from some stubble, Letho hadn't grown an inch of hair. On the other hand, Roy could tie his hair into a ponytail at that point.

"Why?" Letho arched his eyebrow fiercely. "Got cold feet because of some hair loss?"

Roy denied it. "No! I'm just curious."

"Mutations happen randomly. You might not go bald, but you might lose some chest hair or some color in your skin. But that's nothing, really."

Maybe Geralt lost his melanin during his mutation. That's probably why he has white hair and looks like someone with albinism. "Is there any way to prevent that, then?"

Letho patted his shoulder. "If you can get a sorcerer to help you out during the trial, they can alter the mutation and prevent most of the side effects from taking place."

"Are there any sorcerers in the Temple of Melitele then?"

Letho didn't answer. Eventually, they arrived at a human settlement, though it was just a small village. Rows of rickety houses lined the paths, and the barks of dogs and the crows of roosters were heard. The villagers threw curious glances at them, while the snotty brats chasing the chickens around sucked on their thumbs as they looked at the duo as if they were exotic animals.

Roy, however, only had eyes for the circle of carriages in the center of the village. More than a dozen people dressed differently from the villagers leaned against the carriages, chatting happily.

"Is that the Sea Scorpion Troupe?" Roy massaged his forehead before going up to them with Letho.

Chapter 84

When the duo neared the carriage, they noticed six people leading the troupe. Two of them were young ladies, while the others were men. One of them was an elven sorceress with black-red hair who was wearing a yellow, silk dress. She had a slim body, fair skin, beautiful features, and of course, a pair of pointy ears. This must be Eveline, the one the farmers were talking about.

The other lady was tanned. Instead of the reserved attire most women would don, she wore a white-striped, leather midriff top that enveloped her generous chest snugly, revealing her toned abs and sexy, muscular legs. Her nose was long, and her features were manly. She had a mohawk and mysterious tattoos on both cheekbones.

The four men had unique getups too. Their clothes were vibrant and fashionable, unlike the villagers'. There was one muscular middle-aged man with a mustache, a tall, lanky man, and a pale, feminine one.

The duo observed them, and so too were they observed. Eveline frowned at the duo's stares, but she didn't fly into a rage. On the other hand, the tanned lady was staring back at them, feral.

A burly, mustached man standing at five feet six came out to welcome them. However, he was subtly on guard. "You two seem new here. I take it you aren't Shire locals?"

"You must be the Sea Scorpion Troupe." Roy smiled warmly, his gaze gleaming charismatically thanks to his passive skill. "I'm a traveler from Lower Posada, Aedirn. It's across from the Mahakams. This is my uncle, Letho. He hurt his leg on the way here, so he can't move well. I heard the villagers talking about your troupe, so I came. If it's possible, can we hitch a ride?"

"You're a traveler?" The man looked at Letho. "Very well then. You may call me Alan. Alan the Sparrow Whisperer. Our troupe has wandered across the lands and come across many fabulous things. Your eyes are sharper than an eagle's and gleam brighter than the sun. I know you're no ordinary traveler. To be more precise, you're a witcher. But you seem to have been robbed."

"Yes. I'm Letho, from Viper School. This is my disciple, Roy," Letho admitted.

"Tell us what you're really here for. I don't think witchers would just play a prank on us."

The members stood beside Alan, looking hostile. The lady with the mohawk snarled, and she whipped out a dagger from her boot and made it dance between her fingers.

Letho presented his hands, showing he meant them no harm. "Calm down, everyone. The boy is right. I've hurt my leg." He pulled up his pants to show them his injury. "You can verify it for yourself if you don't trust us. I think you know most humans are prejudiced against people like me, so that's why the boy didn't tell you everything."

The troupe members' expressions softened right away, as if they felt the same way Letho did. 𝓫𝓮𝒹𝓷ℴ𝓿ℯ𝓵.𝓬ℴ𝓶

Roy took the chance to ask, "Um, if I may ask, will you be going east to the Mahakams or taking the long way through Lower Sodden?"

"No." Alan's eyes gleamed with longing. "We're going west, where the heart of Ellander is. There, we shall perform. And then we will be heading to Vizima before May Day next year to take part in a grand spectacle."

"Roy and I are going to Ellander to visit an old friend. Is it possible for us to ride with you?" Letho rubbed his leg. "I hurt my leg in a battle with monsters, and it's still not healed, so I can't walk too much. Riding on horseback won't be feasible either, so a carriage would be perfect."

"Well…" Alan was in a dilemma. They'd have agreed to it if Letho was a normal human, but he was a powerful witcher. Alan was worried he might kill everyone on a whim. Even though witchers were outcasts like them, Alan still felt like refusing him.

"We would never ask for anything without pay. It won't even take a week to get to Ellander in a carriage." Letho raised three fingers. "Thirty crowns if you'll give us a lift."

The short, ugly member looked tempted, but Eveline refused Letho. "I'm sorry, Mr. Letho. If you take a look at our carriage, you'll see that it's filled with necessities, props, and Alan's trinkets. We don't have much space left for you."

"Miss Gallo of Aen Seidhe." Roy went around Letho and bowed at Eveline with his right hand before his chest. "You can choose not to trust Letho, since he is a stranger, but I am not. I am your brethren. That is reason enough to trust me, isn't it?"

Eveline's eyes gleamed, and she looked at him closely. It was then she noticed Roy's pointed ears, and his looks had subtle elven traits to them. "Are you a half-elf? No, you're a part-elf, aren't you?" she said.

Roy only had subtle elven traits, but he could speak ancient speech, so he said, "Ensh'eass beanna tede a'taeghane."

Eveline was pleasantly surprised after hearing that, and she felt a surge of affection for Roy. And then she noticed her teammates looking confused, so she explained. "He was saying hello in ancient speech. That proves he is one of my tribe, though your name is weird, Roy. I've never heard anyone from a branch of the family use human names before."

"Oh, my foster mother gave me that name, but she has long passed." Roy stared down, pretending to be sad.

"You poor thing. You aren't even thirty, are you?" Eveline frowned in sympathy, and then she held Roy's hands reassuringly. "Call me Eveline." Then she gave her teammates a pleading look.

"Fine, then." Alan sighed resignedly. "Since Eveline trusts you, you may come with us, but a word of warning. I'll have to set some rules before you go in. Break them and we'll break you."

The duo nodded, and Alan told them about the troupe in detail. There were about a dozen people in the troupe, including the handymen, hitchhikers, and bard. The main ensemble was Alan, the Sparrow Whisperer who came from Rivendell; Kantilla, the blade dancer from Zerrikania, the nation in the desert east of Blue Mountain; Collins, the Swallower of Flames; Ferroz, the Joker; Amos, the Gwent performer, and Eveline Gallo, the acrobat from Dol Blathanna.

Roy finally remembered where he'd heard of Eveline before. If he was right, she was the one who would help Geralt complete the condition for Hearts of Stone, and the one who would later go on to steal from Borsodi Auction House. But it's still a few years too early for Geralt to get his hands on the heart of stone.

Chapter 85

The moon shone on Shire village where the Sea Scorpion Troupe was staying at the moment. That night, they were circling a bonfire in the village center, enjoying a grilled meat banquet with the newcomers. Alan took the main seat and raised many toasts to the duo. "I welcome you to the troupe, Roy, Letho. We'll be your comrades for the next few days, at least until we reach Ellander." He downed that mug of wine and raised another toast. "But I have a few things to mention here. Since you're coming with us, you'll be following our rules. You'll have to talk to everyone before doing anything. If you break that rule and cause any trouble, we'll have to ask you to leave."

"We've been wanderers for a long time now, so that's fine with us." Letho raised his cup calmly. "Oh, good wine. Castel Reviello's Pomino, and ten years of age, at that."

"Ah, it seems you know your alcohol, Letho. I see that folklore has demonized witchers quite severely." Alan grinned, hyping the mood up.

The flames were starting to crackle as the lard from the pig it was roasting dripped into it. It roared higher, and the aroma wafted across the air.

Eveline was beside Roy, talking about the interesting things she'd seen after she'd left her tribe. Kantilla was giggling and nibbling away at Eveline's ear, her eyes gleaming. Sitting across from them was Amos, who had a hook nose and was wearing a headscarf. He was leering at Eveline, though of course, he got no response. On the other hand, the ugly Ferroz was huddling closely to Collins as they bit into the roasted meat together. Roy noticed their mouths were almost glued together, and they looked very much in love.

They're obviously dating. Brokeback Mountain in the witcher world, huh? Roy was surprised, though the troupe members weren't. He tried his best not to show any discomfort by shifting his attention to the meat. The flames crackled, and the smoke was filled with its scent. It's fat-to-meat ratio is just right, and it instantly melts in your mouth. This world's people sure know how to cook.

Letho and him looked at each other and dug into their meat, holding a silent competition. They'd been eating biscuits and dry food for a week. It was their first normal meal in a while, so they appreciated it.

A guest came halfway through the banquet. It was an old man, who was also Shire's chief. "I hear you're leaving tomorrow, but if it's possible, can you stay for a while longer?"

Alan answered calmly, "Why?"

The chief sighed. "Things are getting bad. Misfortune is running rampant. Boogeymen have been seen in the Mahakams, and you'll probably bump into kobolds or spriggans while on a leisurely stroll. Fairies and rusalki have been kidnapping hundreds of children from the villages around, while drowners hide in the swamp, waiting to get the jump on passing carriages. And diseases we've never even heard about before are breaking out. It's disastrous." He downed some wine, and his face turned scarlet.

"It'd be a dull life without wandering troupes putting on shows whenever they pass through villages. Most of us would've hung ourselves at this point."

Roy burped and wiped the grease from his lips. So this chief is trying to lick their boots? And where did he hear those preposterous stories from? If monsters were running rampant, we would be seeing a lot more witchers than we are now.

Alan, the leader of the troupe, was also flabbergasted by the sudden praise. "You flatter us. We aren't as noble as you think. All we're doing is giving our aid whenever possible. It's great to hear that we put smiles on Temerians' faces, especially in these troubled times."

He snapped his fingers at everyone and let out a loud whistle, then something magical happened. A small, grey falcon darted out from the dark and flapped its wings as it perched on Alan's gloved hand, the flames illuminating it. The falcon nodded at everyone and cawed, and then it pecked at the roasted meat.

"And we didn't do it for free. Your village's roasted meat is quite a dish. Art says it loves it." Alan gazed at the falcon lovingly, as if it were his own son.

"I am delighted to hear that. Stay here for a while longer. Eat, drink, and be merry." The chief raised a toast. "If it's possible, I want to tell you how I feel." He clenched his fists and started talking, "It's just a few days' trip to Ellander, but it's not safe. You should stay here for a little while longer. At least until Ellander's troops have cleared the path."

"Our troupe isn't weak. We won't be stopped by mere bandits." Alan sounded confident. "And from what I've heard, Ellander's Order of the White Rose only cares about the safety of the city. They don't care about the villages around them. It'd take too long if we were to wait for them."

Alan was trying to ask the villagers of Shire about his true goal. Everyone stopped what they were doing at once and waited for the chief's answer.

The chief trembled for a while before resolving himself. Then he said, "I'll be honest then. Shire's in a predicament right now. Our trader, Andre, has been gone for half a month now, and we have no news about him at all. Rowling, who went to pick some herbs near the swamp, went missing as well. I fear the worst might have happened." The chief paused for a moment. "And misfortune has been spreading throughout the village for a while now. Before you came, we were suffering from missing livestock. Chickens, dogs, cows, goats, sheep, you name it. And we hear all kinds of eerie screams at night. Tom, the night patrol, is scared out of his mind and refuses to step out of his house, even now. But the situation took a turn for the better once you came."

Alan looked at him coolly. "You're saying something's behind this, but we scared it away."

"Yes." The chief nodded incessantly. "We think it's either a petty thief, or a ghost, or a phantom. But since you've arrived, the ghosts haven't shown up. They're probably scared of you guys."

The troupe members were on high alert after hearing that. Kantilla licked her dagger, and she seemed to be raring to go. Eveline looked pensive, while Collins hugged Ferroz. Amos averted his gaze and curled on himself.

"I didn't mean to hide it from you guys. We can prepare a bounty for you, as long as — "

Alan interrupted him. "We won't change our plans. The troupe leaves tomorrow morning."

The chief rubbed his hands, looking disappointed and awkward. I can understand why they're angry. Then he looked at Letho, who was already greasy and tipsy.

"Witcher, can you and your disciple stay back then?" He hesitated for a while. "We'll pay — "

"Sorry," Letho apologized. "My leg's badly wounded. Even walking is difficult for me, let alone fighting."

Roy wanted to say something, but he stopped himself when he thought about Letho's injury. Best not to cause any unwanted trouble for now.

In the end, the chief left, looking despondent. The night darkened, and the members were drowned in their own thoughts. On the other hand, Roy took Letho aside for a quiet discussion.

Chapter 86

Roy and Letho retired for the night in a tent on the outer ring, since the inside ring of the carriage was reserved for the troupe's ladies. Alan's tent stood out from the rest as usual, since it was set up far away from the carriages. He'd take his owl out for a hunt every night, as well as take watch. At least according to Eveline's testimony.

After he was done with dinner, Roy looked into his details that had changed after he'd leveled up. He wanted to see what had happened to his weapons.

'Bound weapons:

Gabriel: (Gabriel used to be an old, dusty hand crossbow, but it powered up after the level up. It has also become a better match for your abilities.)

Type: Hand Crossbow

Materials: Mulberry wood, tendon, hemp

Details: Weighs five pounds and measures two feet. Has a draw weight of (20 → 30) pounds and an effective range of (100 → 150) feet. A spirit dwells within.

Simplify: Gabriel reloads automatically as long as there are bolts in your inventory space. Reload time is now 0.4 seconds.'

'Gwyhyr: (An ancient black metal flame sword made by gnomes. It has acquired a new skill after powering up.)

Materials: Black iron, lava, meteoric iron, pine wood, and body parts from powerful monsters.

Details: The sword weighs 3.06 pounds, and its handle measures 9.3 inches, while the blade comes in at 36 inches. A spirit dwells within.

Circulation: Heals the user for a small amount of stamina after every kill.

Ignite: Every hit has a very low chance of igniting the target's blood and causing burn damage.'

Roy was grinning from ear to ear as he read up on his weapons. Gabriel's power up was a big surprise for him. Not only did its damage get an increase, its reload time also enjoyed a dramatic speed up. In his previous battles, Roy's enemies would have gotten near him before he could even fire his second shot, but he doubted that would happen again.

He had to waste four seconds to reload before that, but after the powerup, all Roy had to do was aim and shoot. The system would do everything else for him. The time he saved was enough for him to fire three, or even four, shots. Even if he was flanked by three enemies, Roy was confident he could take them all out before they could even get near him.

Since Gwyhyr was already a rare sword to begin with, its powerup wasn't as drastic as Gabriel's, but having one new skill was nice, though he'd want to see how Ignite could help in his battles.

Roy wanted to test the weapons out right that instant, but he thought it would be rude. Swinging my weapons around when I just got here? They'll think I'm a murderer. He stuck his head out to see if there was anyone around, but to his disappointment, the patrols were doing their job. Left with no choice, he kept his weapons.

Since his curiosity would have to wait for its chance to be scratched, Roy entered meditation. He was exhausted, but he knew that was also the best time to power up. Eventually, he could feel the elements around him, though there were only traces of them. The elemental energy was still sheepish, but they were curious about him. Roy could also tell they wanted to come into contact with him, since they were swirling around him in silence.

Even though it had only been days since he was turned into a part-elf, he could feel his affinity slowly strengthen. It was barely noticeable, but he was confident he would be able to control the elements as long as he kept it up every single day.

It was a peaceful night. When Roy exited meditation the next morning, the sun was already shining on the land. Another glorious day.

Alan was directing the packing, and the villagers of Shire came to help too, even though their request had been declined. Roy also noticed a group of kids huddling around the carriage. They seemed reluctant to say goodbye, and Roy could understand why. They were village children after all, so that was probably their only chance to see a troupe perform up close.

Letho was in the carriage, taking in the bustling but orderly scenery. At the same time, Eveline smiled and rolled her sleeves up before stuffing her carriage with some turnips.

"Eveline." Even though he'd managed to get close to her the night before, Roy still felt awkward after meditating.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"I did. Thank you."

"Not to worry, Miss Eveline," Letho interrupted. "The boy's been following me ever since his mother's death. He can sleep in swamps, bushes, cemeteries, and even shitholes."

"Shut up, Letho." Roy threw him a look of complaint. Can't he keep quiet about the shithole? Then he looked at Eveline nervously. "I care a lot about personal hygiene, unlike that dirty witcher over there."

Letho looked at him mysteriously. "It's still a few months away from spring, boy."

Roy took a moment to think about that. Yeah, it's not mating season yet… That's besides the point. Why do I want to leave a good impression on Eveline? And why can't I keep this urge in check? Did puberty hit me? No, the bloodline did.

Eveline looked envious of the duo's relationship. "My, you two seem close. I bet you were lying when you said he was your partner. You guys look more like father and son to me."

"As if. I'm his disciple!"

"Witchers are sterile."

They refuted Eveline at the same time. "I see." Eveline pushed her hair back. "Did you two hear it last night?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Yes, but vaguely." Roy went back to the matter at hand. "The dogs have been barking all night, and there were growls coming from the ranch, but nobody saw who or what made those sounds. I wonder if there's actually a ghost here. Maybe it's getting up to no good now that the troupe's leaving."

Shire's chief tried to persuade the troupe to stay one last time, but Alan adamantly refused. Everyone finished packing up before noon and bade goodbye to Shire, where they'd performed for a short while.

Acres and acres of field that had lettuce, spinach, and turnips planted on them flanked the winding road ahead of the troupe. The six carriages sauntered down the path, leaving nothing but wheel tracks and hoofprints behind.

There were a few young men around the carriages, walking on their own two feet. Those were vagrants who joined the troupe halfway through. They mainly managed manual labor and made little money from it, but it was enough to keep them alive. And they could enjoy the scenery.

Having a group around them made them feel safer too, since empires switched hands at a blistering speed everywhere. Disasters, skirmishes, and wars were rife. Deserters eventually became bandits and thugs in remote villages, forcing people to leave their homes. According to Eveline, the earliest tramps came to them more than two years ago.

Without any land or home to call their own, more and more vagrants were born each day. The vagrants would go with the troupe until they came across the land of their dreams. There, they would settle, but most of them would probably stay as tramps for most of their lives.

All of a sudden, Roy thought Emhyr's plan for conquest wasn't too bad. "Why'd you leave your home though, Eveline?"

"I think you should know this, brother." Eveline had a sad look in her eyes. "Everyone in Dol Blathanna lived in peace for a few years under the Queen of the Fields' leadership, but the Daisy of the Valleys led them back to the warpath. I have a feeling they're conspiring something big. Something terrifying. I didn't want to have more blood on my hands, so I left."

Roy thought about the ladies in Dol Blathanna. Queen of the Fields and Daisy of the Valleys were two different factions in Aen Seidhe. The former was a pacifist who wanted nothing but peace. She'd even pretended to be a normal girl and lived with the humans to that end. The queen was born with great magical talent, and she brought life everywhere she went.

Daisy of the Valleys was a warmonger. She was the future queen of Dol Blathanna, and the mastermind behind Scoia'tael. She'd repay every violent deed done by the humans tenfold, but she would also come on to abandon Scoia'tael for the elves. That was a story for another time though.

"Your turn, Kantilla. Why'd you come all the way to join the troupe?"

The exotic blademaster looked into the distance. "The people of Zerrikania are born warriors, and I want to prove that I'm the best of them all." She smiled, looking ever so dazzling under the sun. Then she pointed at the tattoo on her jaw. "One monster, one tattoo. I think that's fair. I got these from killing an arachas and a basilisk alone. I'd love to have tattoos all over my body while I'm still young. After all, can't exactly wait until I'm a decrepit old woman who can't even hold a blade properly." She paused for a moment. "I have to go on this adventure. To search for the creature of my homeland's beliefs."

"So you're looking for a wyrm?" Roy knew that Zerrikania's emblem was a dragon, and the leaders even built the Temple of Divine Dragons.

"A dragon, but yes."

Roy didn't know what to say to that. True dragons, like white dragons, black dragons, red dragons, green dragons, and rock dragons, could easily destroy draconids like forktails, wyverns, dracolizards, and of course, solo witchers.

Their physical strength was overwhelming, not to mention their fangs and claws. On top of that, they could breathe fire, acid, and even steam. There was also the golden dragon, a legendary dragon said to have mastered shapeshifting. "You have a great dream," Roy said genuinely.

Kantilla raised her chin proudly. "I know you're laughing at my ignorance, but I'm not going to conquer them with brute force. Believe it or not, us Zerrikanians have a close link to dragons. I'll conquer them with my devotion."

"Of course. Good luck."

"What about Alan? Why did he create the troupe? Any big dreams behind it?"

"No." There was a look of longing and romance in Eveline's eyes. "Alan travels around the world to search for his true love. He says he can only be released from his pain after he finds the love of his life, the mother of his pets."

"Um, is he a bard?" Roy had thought that Arri was an owl, and Art a falcon. "That's weird and romantic at the same time." He thought Eveline was kidding.

Eveline threw him a look, but before he could ask, she continued, "Collins and Ferroz love each other, but unfortunately, they aren't nobles. Their love isn't what those nauseating nobles call 'a thing of dreams.' Obviously, their relationship isn't accepted by anyone. All they got was discrimination. They can only act like a proper couple in the troupe."

Anything the nobles did would be romanticized, but the same thing was a death sentence for civilians.

"What do you think about them?" Eveline stared at him, her eyes sparkling.

His heart skipped a beat."Um, well, I pray for their love, I think." He was on neutral grounds when it came to LGBT issues. "What about Amos?"

Kantilla snorted in disdain. "He's a bastard." 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝑚

Roy rubbed his chin. "He's a Gwent performer, so he's a good player, isn't he? Does he have any rare cards? I think I can play with him."

Chapter 87

While everyone was having lunch, Letho called Roy and excused them from the troupe. "Did you smell it?" They went into the bushes beside the path.

Roy nodded. It was a group of carriages that carried a lot of merchandise. They just left Shire not long before the troupe, and everything should've been normal, but Roy smelled blood. "It's not human blood. I smell insects in it."

Letho activated his witcher senses to 'see' the scent particles. He went past five gnarly trees before stopping in front of a burr medic bush. Then he pulled it back, and what was inside made Roy gasp.

There was a small hill of corpses in there, the stench of blood wafting through the air. The corpses looked like grey spiders, enlarged a few hundred times. Since it was winter, they were still fresh.

The duo didn't rush to investigate the scene. Instead, they brandished their weapons and moved ahead cautiously. Letho then cast Aard on the corpses to make sure the critters were all dead. "Weird. Why's there a hill of monster corpses here? It's not something monsters or beasts would do."

Letho beckoned Roy, and the boy went to check on the corpses. "Their bodies are covered in fur and chitin. No distinct line between the thorax and abdomen. They have four legs and a small head. Can't make out the facial features."

Letho tried to mislead Roy. "Endrega workers, huh?"

"Nice try. I don't see any stinger or pincers on them. These are kikimores." Endregas and kikimores were insectoids born after the Conjunction of the Spheres. They usually lived in the wilds and hunted beasts or even wandering humans. They were also a threat to witchers.

Roy turned the corpse over, revealing a soft, yellow belly that was vulnerable compared to its grey, armored back. "This is why it's dead. Someone or something gutted it." Its putrid, green entrails splattered on the ground, its legs covered in dirt. "Must have struggled before it was killed." Roy brushed his hand on the edge of the wound, looking concerned. Then he checked another body. "Claw marks on its back. And most of its body is twisted. The killer must be strong. Look, it almost got torn in half. This one's got holes in its belly. Looks like something bit it off. It's a clean bite in the center, but the edges are jagged. Its killer's teeth are sharp. Canine-like, probably." Roy continued, "Oh, this one's still alive, but barely. Insects are resilient, huh?" Roy put it out of its misery.

'You killed a kikimore. EXP +30.' Two types left.

Roy pulled the bolt from the insect's head. It was drenched in green blood, and Roy got some on his hand. He pulled out a handful of grass covered in dewdrops to wipe his hand off.

"Got anything?" Letho gave him a quizzical look.

"There are thirteen bodies here. A whole kikimore colony. The killer took out a whole colony on its own." Roy was frowning, concerned. "With claws sharp as daggers and teeth lethal as poison."

"Probably panthers or wild dogs. Or foglets, maybe." Letho had voiced his opinion, but he knew he was wrong.

"No beast is strong enough to take them out that cleanly. Foglets have different teeth. And besides…" Roy scanned the scene of the massacre. "I have a feeling there's only one killer. These aren't the killing grounds. Everything's covered in grass, and there's a lack of footprints here."

Letho stopped asking him about the killer. "If that's the case, the killer must be as powerful as a witcher at their peak. Do you still want to continue?"

Roy was in a dilemma. "We have to do this whether we like it or not. The troupe could get attacked at any time, and we'll be right in the middle of it. We have to at least find out what that thing is so we can prepare for it."

Roy knelt one on knee and plucked a handful of grass that was caked in red blood. The killer's blood.

"I have to tell Alan what we're up to in case they get worried. I'll leave the tracking to you."

After Roy had gone off to the troupe, Letho hobbled along the path for a few minutes and arrived at the source of the scent. There was nothing there except for some craters on the ground around it and barren tung trees and messy footprints. Most of them were the kikimores' footprints, but there were a few gigantic footprints among them. The most distinct part was how they only had three toes.

There was also something bizarre in the clearing's center. Green spheres the size of human fists huddled together tightly, but there was a smidgen of reddish-black among them, obviously caused by a claw. Those were kikimore larvae, but they were destroyed, leaving nothing but sticky fluids and dead young kikimores.

"It doesn't leave anything behind, huh?" Letho investigated a tung tree and saw some claw marks on the bark. He wondered if they were left by the killer on purpose, and then his eyes gleamed.

The troupe members were starting to get restless when Letho came back. Alan even came to talk to him. "Please don't stay away for too long next time, Letho. Everyone's been waiting for you. You might not need this advice, since you two are experienced survivalists, but don't leave the camp at night."

Alan waited for their answer and only left when he got their guarantee.

"What did you find?"

"I went back to the scene after you left and found something interesting." Letho looked in Shire's direction. "The nest isn't that far from Shire, and there's frequent activity between both spots."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I found bones of livestock in those bodies, and also a human shirt."

Roy was surprised to hear that. "So that means the chief got it all wrong. The villagers weren't harmed by rusalki or fairies; these kikimores did it." Then he looked confused. "The killer's doing them a favor? That's weird."

Chapter 88

Roy and Letho were talking in the carriage. "Why did it kill all the kikimores? To keep the villagers safe?" Roy couldn't believe his guess. The killer was a strong monster from what they'd seen, and none of them would go out of their way to help humans. "Do you know what the killer is?"

"Probably. Everything else matches it, though there's no urine." Letho didn't look too sure. "But best not speculate before we actually see it."

"So why did it do this?" Roy asked. "Is it protecting the villagers?"

Letho answered, "Probably a coincidence. Maybe it just moved here, and it's very territorial, so it killed all the kikimores. The troupe should be fine if they get out of its range." Letho calmed himself down. "Don't worry too much about it, and don't tell the troupe about this."

At the same time, the troupe was keeping a close eye on the duo. "You've been getting along with them well, Eveline. I trust you know them fine enough?" Alan crossed his arms, his eyebrow arched quizzically. "We don't hear anything bad about the Viper School in the north, and they look normal enough, but for some reason, I think they're hiding something."

Eveline bit her lip. "I'm sure Roy's fine. I can trust him, but…" She changed her tune. "I'm not sure about Letho. He's a man of few words, and even fewer emotions. I get the chills every time he looks at me. It's like he can see through my soul. His injuries don't seem fake though."

"They say witchers are emotionally messed up. Looks like that isn't just a rumor after all."

Collins thumped his hairy chest. "Fret not, Alan. I'll keep an eye on those two. It's just a witcher with a limp and a little brat. They don't even have weapons to boot. We can take them down easily."

"Watch it," Alan warned him. "They're our guests, so don't get on their bad side. We might need their help some day." He turned to Eveline. "Eveline will keep an eye on them for us. Don't let them out of your sight. Roy's interested in Gwent, right? Get Amos to play a match or two against him. He'll win some crowns for us. And Collins, don't let them run around tonight."

"Yes sir!"

Eveline went back to the carriage Roy was in, while Alan leaned against his carriage and let out a shrill whistle. A moment later, Art darted out and perched on his arm, holding a greyish-white feather in its beak.

Alan's face fell. "You cheeky boy." He smacked Art's head. "Pulling a prank on Arri again when she's asleep? She's your sister. You should protect her, not bully her."

Art cawed for a while before staring down like a child who got scolded. Then it pecked at Alan's hair, trying to get back in his good books. "Alright, fine. But if there's a next time…"

Art tucked its trembling wings in and nodded incessantly.

"Good boy." Alan stopped his bad cop act. "My boy, do you think I can find my love in Ellander this time?"

Art cawed again.

"Good boy. I knew it. My love is in Ellander." Alan caressed his falcon lovingly, but there was great sadness in his eyes.

Letho was meditating and healing himself up in the carriage, while Roy was staring at the long road ahead of them, worried. The killer that wiped out a whole kikimore colony must've been as strong as the leshen. Even though it couldn't revive, the traces it left told them that the monster was faster, stronger, and had a bigger bite than the leshen.

Roy didn't think he could go against that monster in his current condition either. Letho was injured, and their items had run out. The whole troupe would be in danger if they were attacked by it.

Everyone in the troupe was also Observed by Roy. Most of their stats were slightly higher than normal humans. They were nimbler or stronger too, but only slightly. Also, they had one or two basic combat skills, so the troupe members were on par with normal soldiers, but not even a dozen of them could take on that monster.

"Something's wrong. The members don't seem too strong, so why's Alan so confident they could beat the bandits? Is it overconfidence? Or something else?" Roy thought the case wasn't so simple. From what Eveline had told him, he realized the Troupe had traveled to many countries and regions, but they'd never gotten into any big trouble.

Since he couldn't figure it out, Roy ignored it and concentrated on his character sheet.

'(1) attribute point(s) and (1) skill point(s) left.'

Roy allocated the attribute point to Constitution, and then he felt a surge of warmth course through his body, as if he were bathing in a hot spring. He could feel countless hands massaging him, rejuvenating his body.

'Constitution: 5.5 → 6.5

HP: 55 → 65'

Since he had experience adding two attribute points at the same point, adding only one point didn't burden him at all. In fact, the comfort was slowly making him sleepy, but it was not to be.

He noticed a gale coming toward him, and he dodged by reflex. Annoyed, he looked up to see a card spinning back to its owner. Then out came a man in a white robe. His head was covered in a turban, his long mustache wiggling on his lips. The man was lanky, but he was built big.

Amos the Gwent performer looked surprised when Roy had managed to dodge that. The thing he threw at Roy was a standard Gwent card. "You're nimble, boy. As expected from Letho's friend."

Roy held his anger back. "Is that so?" He sized Amos up. "That's a unique way to say hi, Mr. Amos. This is the first time someone tried to kill me just to say hello. Is this your hometown's custom?"

Amos leaped up to the carriage, his robe billowing. "It was just a friendly greeting. Besides, you're fine, aren't you?" Amos leaned against the carriage smugly.

Roy stared down and made a decision. "Do you need something?"

Amos raised his head in provocation. "Eveline told me you're a great Gwent player despite your age. Coincidentally, Gwent's my hobby. Care to play?"

"Sure." Roy rubbed his hands. "Why don't we make this spicier? Let's bet something." He smiled innocently.

Amos beamed. "I don't see why not."

Chapter 89

Amos wiped the sweat off his forehead, but the heat was still suffocating him. He loosened his collar, but it didn't have any effect, so he took his turban off. It was a cool, winter day, but his dried, curly hair stuck to his head, drenched in his sweat. What's going on? Why am I losing everything?

Amos thought he was fighting on equal grounds with Roy, since they both had wins and losses, but when he actually took the time to calculate his losses, he realized he lost everything. The right side of the board — where he'd put his rare cards — was empty. On the other hand, the right side of Roy's board was stacked with rare cards, attracting everyone's eyes, as if they were precious stones.

It was a devastating loss. Not only did Amos lose the crowns Roy paid the troupe, he even lost Vesemir, his gold card, and his Necromancer, a silver card. He went through a lot to get those cards, since they never showed up on the market.

This sly little fox! He finally realized what was going on. Roy might've looked like an inexperienced boy, but ever since the game was underway, he'd been luring Amos in like a fisherman waiting for his fish to bite the bait. When he'd realized what was going on, he'd already lost everything he had. But he's just a boy? Impossible! Is he a prodigy?

Amos looked at Roy seriously. He wondered if Roy knew what he was thinking or if he was cheating. He always turned the tables and took Amos down. Even if he wasn't the best player, he was among the top. Amos knew he couldn't afford to stay arrogant anymore, so he pleaded sheepishly. "Um, Roy. Can you… Can you give me back my cards? Every Gwent performer worth their salt has a gold card, you know. Those cards are the prize of my trade." Amos squeezed a tear out. "I can't live without them. My life's gonna be a mess."

"I see." Roy threw him a look. "How much are you going to pay for your life, then?"

"Um…" Amos froze. "I keep all my money back in Vivaldi. I can take it out once we're at Ellander, though. I just want the cards. I guarantee you won't be disappointed with the price."

"We'll see about that when we're in Ellander."

"Is there really no room for discussion?"

"Winners keepers. You can't be a sore loser, right, Mr. Gwent performer?"

Amos flew into a rage. If fury could burn, the whole place would've been razed to the ground. But then he glanced at Letho. Even though Letho had his eyes closed, he still struck fear into Amos' heart. Since he couldn't do anything, Amos snorted and left the place. "I'm done."

Then Roy said, "You might win the next game. I have Yarpen Zigrin here, you see. It's a gold card."

Amos stormed away, while Roy beamed. He'd won back his crowns and a gold Gwent card as a bonus in just a few games. "The bouncer back in Walls Inn said the Gwent tournament would start in the north soon." I'll have to take part in it in Ellander if I get the chance.

Letho's guess was probably right on the money. The caravan was out of the monster's territory a short while later, and they weren't attacked either. The next couple of nights were uneventful, though Roy tended to most of Letho's needs, so Letho spent most of his time recovering. Thanks to that, he regained part of his strength.

Also, Amos seemed to be really salty about his losses, so he asked his troupe members to challenge Roy. Roy, ever the welcoming boy, accepted their challenges and made a small fortune.

Since then, everyone looked at him weirdly. They were fearful, but also angry. The only one who ever won against him was Eveline, and that was only because Roy let her. When Amos found out about that, he stopped haunting Eveline. He was ashamed to even talk to her, since it meant she was a better player than him by extension.

"At least he knows his place." But he keeps looking at me like he has some plans lying in wait. Roy wanted to teach him a lesson, but he was on someone else's turf, so he refrained from doing so.

He was also annoyed about something else. The troupe had been keeping a close eye on them, albeit subtly at times. But that couldn't escape his perception. He could feel the members' eyes on them at all times. Even Eveline was supervising him, and she was genuinely nice to him. Everyone else was just pretending to respect them.

He never felt so annoyed before, not even back in Kaer or Mount Carbon. It was the first time he felt that upset when someone so blatantly distrusted them. It was worse than facing off against a bloodthirsty monster.

He was a human boy to begin with. Even though he'd seen the discrimination faced by the witchers, the full effect didn't hit him until he was at the receiving end. Letho once told him, "Monsters aren't the first problem new witchers will run into; it's the change in humans' attitude. Most spend years getting used to the discrimination. Humans are social creatures, but witchers have to learn to live alone."

I have to face monsters and humans' bad attitude, huh? Best not to dwell on it. I should meditate. Roy started spending more time on meditation, just like Letho did. And half a day had passed since then.

Something interesting also happened over the next couple of days. Roy noticed Alan leaving camp one night with his owl, Arri. He went into the bushes outside the camp area, and he didn't even bring any weapons with him. When Roy looked into it, he realized Alan was doing the same thing every night.

"Owls are nocturnal animals, so I can understand why it goes out at night, but why'd Alan go along? He's not much better than a normal guy. He'll get himself killed by going into the forest at night."

Letho's necklace didn't detect any magic from the troupe members, so Roy knew Alan didn't have any magical items on him. Alan kept bringing Arri into the forest every night, until the fifth day came.

Chapter 90

The sky was overcast that day. Dark clouds hung above them, and rumblings of thunder were heard from the heavens above. After getting through the forest, the troupe came across a path that was flanked by rocky walls. Halfway through the valley, the troupe stopped, for they noticed a fresh trail of blood on the ground.

Everyone started whispering, while Roy brought his guard up. It looked like someone or something dragged the bloodied body up the path. The victim's body must've been cut up by the sharp rocks as it got dragged along, leaving chunks of flesh behind. It was obvious that that place was ground zero. Aside from the trail of blood, there were also strips of cloth, some boots, a few rusty hoes, and weapons improvised from farming implements.

The trail extended ahead. Behind the boulders flanking the path ahead stood a destroyed spike, though every piece was as big as a carriage. "What kind of monster did this?"

Alan quickly ordered the troupe to get out of the valley. Everyone backed off, and Alan decided to investigate the scene along with some of the members. The duo insisted on joining the recon team, and Alan failed to dissuade them, so he let them do what they wanted.

The putrid stench of blood filled the scene. Letho sniffed the air to look for clues, and then he hunkered down to observe the flesh and blood on the ground. He touched them and pondered for a while. "This is fresh. The attack probably happened last night."

Surprisingly, nobody was shocked to hear that. Instead, they were calm, abnormally so. Roy was used to it, since he practically killed a mountain of nekkers, but he didn't expect the troupe members to be as well. So they came across something similar before.

"Be careful, Letho. You aren't fully healed yet, and god knows if there's anything in there," Alan suddenly told them.

"I can hold my own."

The team approached the boulders ahead of them, which were as big as the destroyed blockage behind the boulders. The road narrowed to a small path that only allowed one carriage to cross.

Roy leaped onto the boulder and looked down. "This is a natural barrier. It's perfect if you want to hold the fort, and anyone who wishes to travel to Ellander must pass this valley. I'd stop any travelers and extort them too if I were in the same position."

"What are you trying to say?"

"This isn't Ellander's official checkpoint. Shire's chief is right. The path to Ellander is blocked by bandits, but these guys got caught in something bad."

"Where are they right now?"

The team went around the boulders and saw the three-hundred-pound blockade, then they noticed the small hill of human corpses. Some had their throats slit open, some were disemboweled, some had their spines broken, and some were torn to pieces. The tattered clothes they were wearing were already drenched in blood.

Roy was reminded of the revolutionists he'd met outside Aldersberg. The Temeria wilds are full of resources. Even if these guys hated farming, they could've become poachers. That'd still put food on the table. Why'd they become bandits anyway?

The hill of corpses finally sent the team into panic. A scrawny man stood up. "W-why don't w-we g-go around, Alan?"

"Foolishness," a muscular, mustached man retorted. "The bandits are dead, and the blockade is smashed to pieces. Why should we go around? I say we go ahead!"

"Yes!" someone agreed. "These bastards deserved it!"

"This must be retribution from Melitele!" a devout believer said.

"Melitele, huh?" Roy dismissed it. Melitele wouldn't be so cruel as to break anyone's body. He and Letho looked at each other before going in to investigate the corpses. There were fifteen of them. Most of the deceased were adults, but there were two kids and an old man.

When Roy found twenty crowns on the corpses, the pious member went into a frenzy. "See? I told you this is divine retribution. Melitele's giving me her blessing. She's always generous and helps her believers. Nobody else would've stumbled upon those crowns."

"Yeah, there are a lot of crowns." A guy with scabies on his head laughed. "Enough for a few pints, eh?"

"Shut up! That's blasphemy!"

Nobody noticed Roy and Letho looking more and more worried as the investigation went on.

The bandits suffered the same wounds the kikimores had.

But we left that place days ago. Did it follow us?

"What happened, Letho? Is something wrong?"

Letho gazed at everyone sharply, and some of the members shivered from the intensity of his gaze. "What happened?"

Letho didn't answer, so Alan turned to Roy. Roy snapped out of it and gulped. "The killer isn't human. No human has this kind of strength, nor do they have claws, and the footprints aren't human either, but the killer isn't Melitele."

"What is it then?"

Everyone was waiting for the answer nervously, but Roy changed the topic. "Hey, you said Melitele 'always' helps you out, didn't you? Did she clear the path every time you guys ran into the same problem?"

"Yeah. I've been traveling with the troupe for two years, and something this freaky happened twice."

Another guy backed him up, albeit without certainty. "Now that you say it, it's actually true."

"Once in Dol Blathanna."

"And Ard Carraigh!"

The team started making a ruckus, but one snort from Alan shut them up. Alan went up to Roy and grinned toothily. "Letho, Roy." He let out a hearty laugh. "Let's call it a day, eh? The bandits are dead, and you guys got some money out of it. Now, let's go back and push forward. No matter what it is, it helped us out, didn't it?" ｂｅｄ𝚗ｏ𝚟𝚎𝚕.𝚌𝚘ｍ

"Yeah!" his team said.

Letho answered calmly, "Very well then. We'll call it a day."

Roy went back silently, but once he got into the carriage, he mumbled, "I saw a scar on his neck. That scar's new. We got everything wrong. The one who killed the kikimores wasn't in Shire. He's always been with the troupe. We're playing with fire."

"But it doesn't seem to be hostile at the moment, nor did it do anything unforgivable." Letho looked confused too, since all that monster knew was chaos and mindless murder.

"Can beasts really possess human intelligence?"

"The proof is in the pudding. Let's just keep quiet and watch," Letho answered. They couldn't do anything else anyway. And Letho started wiping Gwyhyr, while Roy looked weirdly at Alan, who was calming everyone else down.

Chapter 91

The moon was hidden behind the thunderclouds that night, and a loud crack of thunder later, rain fell. Roy felt the raindrops falling on his hand, and then he pulled his arm back. "It's raining." And then, as if on cue, the tents and carriages were buffeted by the rain. The raindrops sounded like loud drums, and the northern gale blew at the tents, threatening to uproot them at any moment.

Then things got worse.

"There's a situation." Roy went out into the rain, and Letho followed. Their shirts were drenched in an instant, but they didn't have time for that. One of the troupe members was screaming in the distance, but his voice was almost drowned out by the rain. The duo quickly went to him. "What happened?"

"A-a monster attacked us." The man was breathing heavily, his face pale, but he managed to hold Letho's hands. "You have to help us, Letho! You're the only one who can do it!" He was shivering uncontrollably, obviously shaken to his core.

"Where's everyone?"

"Eveline, Kantilla, and the other guys went after it. They were headed to the swamp. T-they told me to hold the fort."

Roy looked into the distance, but the rain and darkness was stopping even him. He could only see twenty feet ahead of him, so going after them in these conditions would prove unwise.

"Calm down." Letho calmed the troupe member with Axii. "The rain started not long ago. Did you manage to see the monster? What did it look like?"

"It was too dark, so I didn't see it clearly, but its eyes looked feral, like a cat's. Or a wolf's. And they gleamed."

"I see. Where'd Alan go, then?"

The man frowned. "I didn't see Alan, but I saw Art and Arri flying east."

"We'll be back soon, so stay here and don't go anywhere," Letho said.

"I'm counting on you guys."

The duo strode into the darkness, their boots squelching against the ground. Letho was carrying Gwyhyr, while Roy was holding his crossbow. Neither of them had a torch, for the moonlight was enough light for them to go on.

"Is he out of his mind?" Roy was frustrated. "Why'd he pull this stunt on a night like this? I thought he was supposed to be the troupe's guardian. What if his members got hurt?"

Letho replied calmly, "He must've realized we found him out earlier. This is just a trap."

"And we're walking right into it."

"He'll come for us if we don't. And he won't be friendly. We should take the bait and see what he's up to."

They went ahead, crouching and hiding in the rain. A short while later, they saw the flicker of a torch ahead, and they heard the voices of the members who'd gone after the monster.

Right when they were about to rendezvous with the troupe members, an owl appeared before them. It cooed for a moment before perching itself on Roy's shoulder. Its wings were wet from the rain, so it couldn't fly well. It raised its fat wings and pointed to the left.

"This is Alan's owl, Arri. Is she giving us directions?" Arri heard Roy's mumble and nodded at him with an uncanny show of human intelligence. Then she opened her wings and stood up to bow at them, much to Roy's surprise.

"Is she bowing to us? You're such a lady, Arri."

Arri covered her face with her wing sheepishly. "Whoa, she understands human language. Alan's more complicated than I thought." Roy eased up a bit, since Arri was trying to be friends with them.

They followed her directions for about ten minutes before arriving at a mini pine forest. The rain was blocked out by the dense foliage, and a boulder that stood at five feet sat at the end of the winding path. There, a towering figure sat.

Roy cast Observe on it from a long distance away, but it wasn't the same data he got a few days ago. So this is Observe's weakness. It can't see through a shapeshifter. No, a cursed one.

'Alan

Age: Thirty-three years old

Status: Sea Scorpion Troupe troupe master (He is the founder of Sea Scorpion Troupe. A proactive and charismatic man loved and respected by his troupe members).

Sparrow Whisperer (After an unexpected mutation, Alan possessed the ability to communicate with his pets: the falcon, Art, and the owl, Arri. Thanks to that, he rose to fame in the show industry).

You have uncovered his hidden identity thanks to the investigation.

Cursed one (He is afflicted by a terrible curse. Alan will become a werewolf on the night of the full moon and some specific nights. The slaughter begins. According to the legends, werewolves possess the evil and cruelty present in both humans and beasts, but Alan seems to be immune to that. While most werewolves are nothing but mindless killing machines, Alan's mind stays intact.)

HP: ? (Requires higher Perception)

Strength: 13 (Wereform +5)

Dexterity: 15 (Wereform +5)

Constitution: ? (Requires higher Perception)

Perception: 15 (Feral Instinct +5)

Will: 6

Charisma: 4 (Wereform -2)

Spirit: 5

Skills:

Wereform (Passive): Half man, half wolf. All killer. Werewolves are the kings of darkness. +5 to Strength and Dexterity, but -2 to Charisma because of its grotesque looks and body odor.

Feral Instinct (Passive): A primal instinct embedded in its genes. Grants werewolves incredible perception. Werewolves can detect murderous intent and its enemy's weaknesses. They can sense danger almost perfectly, giving them more time to dodge attacks.

Speedy Regeneration (Passive): Its cursed flesh has incredible regeneration speed and can heal minor injuries instantly. Can consume enemy flesh to heal medium injuries and recover some HP. +10 to Constitution.

Feral Howl Level 5: It can summon wolves or werewolves in its vicinity for help through a special howl.'

It's superior to me in close combat, but Letho's better. Roy gripped his crossbow tightly as he estimated the number of shots he could fire before Alan could come near. Two, maybe.

"So, are you Alan? Or are you a werewolf? Why did you call us here?"

The silhouette leaped down from the boulder. The moon shone on its fangs and exposed gum as it tried to grin, but all it managed was a sneer. The snout was getting in the way. "Good. Seems like you guys aren't idiots who kill monsters the first chance they get. Let's talk." Its voice was guttural and deep, and it wasn't attractive at all, especially not when it was inching closer to the duo, its body towering over them, its big claws shining coldly under the moonlight.

Arri cooed happily and flew toward Alan.

Chapter 92

The rain became heavier, penetrating even the dense foliage, wetting the werewolf's fur. It slowly stalked toward them, the ground squelching under its feet.

"Alright, that's enough. You can talk from that spot."

The werewolf stopped thirty feet away with its arms crossed. It stared at the duo, its eyes wide. Arri and Art were standing on his shoulder, rubbing against its furry face.

"Why did you ask us out at this hour?" Roy was aiming at the cursed one.

"I mean you no harm, so don't pull that trigger. I don't mind you hurting me, but if these two get shot, this talk will be over."

"Oh, trust me when I say I shoot well. They won't get hurt. Not one bit."

"Very well, then." The werewolf looked at Letho, though Letho was just observing it in silence. "You realized what I was when we were in the valley, didn't you?"

"Yes. We thought you were in Shire, but we never expected you to be in the caravan with us."

The werewolf stared down and let out a sigh. "I knew those bastards would be trouble." Then it looked up at the duo with pleading eyes. "But I had no choice. The troupe is my home, and the members are my family. I can't let them get hurt, so I got rid of the source of the problem." It licked its claws. "Do you think I was wrong?"

"No," Letho answered. "They were just bandits anyway. Probably killed more than a couple of humans. They weren't innocent. I would've done the same if you hadn't done it first."

The werewolf chuckled. "I knew you'd understand. Your kind does the same thing, right?"

Letho didn't answer, though his silence was an answer in itself. He was already eighty, after all. There must've been blood on his hands, and some of it had to belong to innocents. Killing some bandits would be a piece of cake for him.

The werewolf knew it'd hit the spot, so it continued. "I might've turned into a monster, but as you can see, my mind is still my own, and I've never killed any innocent people." Its voice started trembling. "But are you going to kill me anyway?"

Roy thought about it for a moment and stared back into Alan's eyes. "We aren't saints, and you aren't a mindless monster. We wouldn't even have come if you hadn't lured us in. We'll just keep this up until we get to Ellander, and that's it."

"Can you keep this a secret, then?" Alan put his hands together in a prayer, though it looked funny. "The members are my family, but they're just human. Most can't accept werewolves, so please keep this a secret from them."

"How would you know if you don't talk it out?" Roy eased up and put his weapon down. He couldn't bring himself to hate the cursed one who was pleading for the sake of his friends. "But sooner or later, the cat's gonna get out of the bag. You can't hide it forever." 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚘𝚟ｅｌ.ｃ𝚘𝚖

"Just keep it a secret until then. Besides, we've been working together for years. Some of them know something's up, but they never expose me." Alan looked crestfallen, so his birds pecked at him to cheer him up.

"Why do you trust us?" Letho suddenly asked.

Alan made his best attempt to frown, and then he smiled bitterly. "I tried to ask witchers and sorcerers for help after turning into this, but they either ended up trying to kill me or making me an experimental subject. No one would help. The two of you look like level-headed, reasonable people, and you heard me out. I figured I could take this bet."

Yeah, he's just out of options, Roy thought.

"How did you become a werewolf then? And those birds of yours used to be humans, right?"

Alan paused for a moment to think about if he should tell the duo about his past, but finally, he resolved himself to do it. "This is the Cult of the Lionheaded Spider's doing." Alan paced back and forth in frustration, recalling a painful memory. "This is a curse from that cult's priestess. I turned into a werewolf, my children became birds, but my wife had it the worst. She became a frog."

"Oh, um, okay." Roy wasn't sure how to process that. The frog prince reversed? Man, I know he's complex, but that's out there, even for us.

Roy had read about the Cult of the Lionheaded Spider though. It was one of the many evil cults on the continent. They'd sacrifice live people to appease their cruel god. Their emblem was a lionheaded spider on a web, and their priestesses all possessed powerful curses.

"I see. No wonder Eveline said you were searching for your true love. It's because you guys are cursed."

"I'm not exactly a smart guy, and I can't ask anyone for help," he said. "But I found some inspiration from fairy tales. They say true love can break all curses. I think the curse can be lifted if I find someone who loves me and my kids."

Roy was surprised that Eveline hadn't been making things up. So he's actually searching for true love. "What about your actual wife, then?"

"Poor Sheena. She left us three years ago. Couldn't take it anymore." That memory brought nothing but pain. The gleam in his eyes was snuffed out, and his snout hung open.

Art and Arri started cawing and cooing too, as if trying to mourn. Roy knew he shouldn't laugh, but it looked amusing and sad at the same time. He asked Letho, "Can you help him?"

Letho was surprised, though he turned to Alan. "Killing monsters isn't all a witcher can do. We know how to lift curses too, though only to an extent. We might be of some help if you would tell us your story in detail."

"I-is that true? You can lift the curse, Letho?"

"No guarantees, but I can probably point you in the right direction."

Chapter 93

Alan looked up at the moon that was almost hidden behind the leaves. The rain almost muffled his voice, but the duo could hear him perfectly.

"I'm Alan, a farmer's kid from Rivendell. Most of my friends were farmers' kids too, but Sheena was an exception. She was a clerk's daughter. She was educated, kind, gentle, and had hair as beautiful as iris flowers. And she had a smile cuter than anything else in the world." He paused for a moment. "If it weren't because of that one incident, someone like her never would've come across someone like me. She probably would've married the mayor's son or a noble's child. She could've lived a wealthy life, but fate decided to throw something at her. That something was me. It was back when she was seventeen. Sheena was on a trip, and she fell into the Newi*. I jumped in to save her despite knowing the danger. We'd fallen in love the moment our eyes had met, and we started meeting in secret." Alan's eyes were starting to smile as he reminisced about the good old days. Even his fangs gleamed happily, as if they too were in love. The children felt their father's happiness too, so they swayed. "A peasant and a clerk's daughter… Unthinkable, but that was what fate wanted. We dated in secret for a year, and then Sheena got pregnant with the twins."

PR/N: The Newi is a river.

"Hey, wait," Roy interrupted, much to Alan's surprise and annoyance. "So Sheena was pregnant when she was eighteen? How old were you then?" 𝐛𝗲𝐝𝐧𝗼𝐯𝐞𝐥．𝐜𝐨𝗺

"Twenty-eight and still pathetically single." Alan stared down and grinned sheepishly.

A twenty-eight year-old peasant and an eighteen year-old daughter of a clerk… Did the two of them even have any mutual topics to talk about? Roy needed some time to process that, and he was shaken when reality hit him. He wanted to say something, but decided against it. "Alright, you lucky guy. Looks like fate does have some plans in store for you."

"Yes. I was fortunate that Sheena fell for me. Of course, we couldn't hide her pregnancy forever, so we eloped. Or else her family would've probably disowned her, and the whole town would've called her all sorts of names. We'd left one night and escaped into the great forest."

He clenched his paws and looked down again. "But I was a useless man. I didn't prepare enough for the trip. We got lost in the forest, and when we were about to run out of supplies…"

"You met her. That priestess," Roy interrupted.

Alan nodded solemnly. "Rachel saved us. Took us to a rundown temple and took care of my wife until her delivery."

"I need to confirm one thing." Letho frowned, looking serious as well. "Did she ask for anything before she helped the two of you? Something like a reward?"

"No," Alan replied adamantly, but the duo realized he sounded sadder than before. "After my wife's delivery, Rachel held Arri for a while. Then she said the unthinkable." Alan's voice was starting to get hoarse, and his face contorted with rage. "That bitch wanted our daughter! Arri was just an infant, but she wanted to take her away before Sheena could even see her! Can you imagine how hard it was for us?" Alan roared at them. Roy took an involuntary step back and aimed his crossbow at Alan by reflex. "She wanted Arri to stay with her in that dark, humid, putrid place and inherit her legacy. Rachel wanted her to become a-a hack! A servant for that disgusting spider! I would've said yes if she wanted me as her servant, but she wanted my child." Alan's eyes gleamed crimson. "Naturally, I refused her," he said coldly.

He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if screaming at something that wasn't there.

"We'd convalesced at the temple for a while until Sheena had felt better. The bitch noticed us when we were about to take Arri away, and then she started making those gestures. I was reminded of the witches in children's stories and realized she must've been cursing us. Scared out of my wits, I got a knife and plunged it in her belly." Alan tensed up. Not even the rain could muffle his heavy breathing and pounding heart. A long, long while later, Alan fell dead silent. "We hid in the temple, waiting for Rachel to bleed to death, and then we saw the weird signs she'd drawn on the ground using her blood. That marked the start of our nightmares." He sighed. "But the curse isn't all bad. At least I'm free of any and all disease, and I never tire. Also, the whole family became telepathic, so we can communicate freely. Made hunting and caring for them easier. And I started a traveling circus to take them on a trip around the world. But Sheena couldn't take it. She hated slimy stuff like frogs when she was alive. She held on for two years, but eventually, she succumbed to the curse."

"I was practically a one-man-show back then, so I thought I should just disband the troupe, but my kids were why I kept going. I had to do this. To find a way to lift the curse. Then I stumbled upon the way to get rid of it, and as you know, it's true love. I thought it only existed in fairy tales, but nay. I didn't lie to my members, since that was my goal. I sought professional help, and I realized I might be one woman's kiss away from lifting this curse. I worked hard to fall for another woman, but I couldn't do it, no matter what. That's why I was never blessed with true love. And my kids have been cursed for five years."

"Do you still love your wife, then?" Letho asked.

"Of course. I would like to see her right now, but…" Alan looked at his children. "I can't leave my children alone."

"As you should. Sheena gave you two beautiful children and shared your curse. Rachel was only targeting you, but because you and your family were bonded tightly by fate and bloodline, they shared your curse without knowing it. Thanks to that, you retained your sanity despite getting turned into a werewolf. Oh, and one more thing." Letho arched his eyebrow. "You lied to us. The Lionheaded Spider's goddess might be evil, but her priestesses follow the ancient laws nonetheless. There's a condition if she wants your child to be the temple's heir, and that condition is to entwine your daughter's fate with hers. Most priests use the Law of Surprise for that."

The Law of Surprise was an unwritten law that had binding effects, even if the contract was only oral. It was as old as human existence itself. The gist of it was that a person could request something from the person they saved. Most of the time, it was something like the first thing the person saw when they got home, or something they possessed but had no idea about. Many witchers got their disciples using that rule.

"So here's my guess. Rachel did ask for something. And that something goes along the lines of 'If Sheena gives birth to a girl, then she must stay in the temple, but if they're both boys, then all of you may leave.' That element of uncertainty is how the Law of Surprise takes root."

Letho looked into its eyes before going closer to him. "The two of you agreed to it before the delivery." Letho was sure about it. "That didn't happen after the birth. You lied. Threatening you after the birth would be pointless, since it wouldn't create a binding contract, nor would it be magical." Letho's eyes gleamed furiously. "You breached the contract first, didn't you? And you had the nerve to say you didn't take any innocent lives."

Roy looked at Letho with shock, then turned his attention to Alan. Instead of refuting the claims, he kept his silence. Just when the duo was about to lose their patience, Alan took one step forward, his body trembling, his eyes filled with an unspoken plea. "You're right. I breached the contract and turned my back on the priestess, so this is my punishment. It's supposed to be mine alone!" He held his head in agony. "I can live a long life, since werewolves are healthy, and Art can live for a few decades, since he's a falcon, but not Arri. It's been five years since then. She only has a year or two at best. Please save them, Letho. The children are innocent."

Letho crossed his arms as he gazed straight into Alan's eyes, and Alan met his gaze. "You're right." Letho sighed. "This is entirely your fault, not the children's. They shouldn't suffer with you." He relented. "But answer me. Do you love them more than you love yourself? Be honest. This is crucial."

"They're my only family and the reason I keep going on."

"I understand." Letho nodded. "I can't save them, but you can," he declared.

"What do you mean?"

"They weren't making things up when they said true love can lift curses. The countless tragic love stories recorded in history prove it. You're on the right track, but you're doing it wrong. Arri will be dead before you find that true love of yours. Consider this: You're the person who loves them the most, and family love is a form of love too. There is no need to find someone else to fill that role."

"I don't understand." Alan was confused. "I love them more than I do myself, and they never leave my side. Even so, they're still cursed."

"Every fairytale has its own little nugget of truth in it. You can find unimaginable power in love and blood," Roy interrupted. He was reminded of Geralt's story. One that was uncannily similar to Alan's, and he knew what Alan had to do to lift the curse. "Now that we're certain you love your children deeply, we're one step away from lifting the curse. All we need now is blood. Blood combined with true love can end all curses and misfortune."

"Be specific! What should I do?" Alan was in a hurry.

Roy looked at Alan's kids, then opened his mouth, but said nothing.

"They're just kids, so we'd better take this somewhere they can't hear us," Letho said. He glanced at Roy furtively, wondering why Roy would know the way to lift the curse.

Alan had a bad feeling about it, but he told his kids to stay on a tree not far from him. "They can't actually understand things that are too complex though." Alan combed his fur with trembling paws to calm his nerves, but what he heard next made his mind go blank.

"You're the main target of the curse, so most of it will disappear when you die, and the blood taken right before that will be enough to lift the rest of it," Roy explained.

"This is the only way your kids can get rid of that curse and live their lives normally," Letho said sombrely. "You'll have to prove your love to them by using your very life."

Alan stared down in silence for the longest time. He pondered on the matter, struggling to make a decision, but in the end, he resolved himself. "If that's the truth, then I shall pray for your good fortune once this is all done, but if not, I shall curse you with every ounce of my being, just like how Rachel did to me and my family once."

"On the name of the Viper School, I, Letho, swear that everything I have told you about the way to lift the curse is true. If I break this promise, I shall never see the day the Viper School makes its return." Letho raised his necklace solemnly.

"On the name of the Viper School, I, Roy, swear that everything I have told you about the way to lift the curse is true. If I break this promise…" Roy made a promise of his own.

Alan gazed at them for the longest time, and then he let out a sigh. "I have one final request. Can you… Can you send me off? I can't do it. Even taking my heart out won't kill me. You must cut my head off. I can't ask my family to do it. It's too cruel."

"Are you sure, Alan?" Roy stared back at him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice started trembling.

"Yes." Alan looked up with relief on his face. Then, he tilted his head and smiled as warmly as he could. "I told you I loved them more than I do myself, and I wanted to see Sheena as soon as possible."

"Don't you want to say goodbye to your troupe? Tell them what happened? They've been working with you for years. They have the right to know the truth," Letho reminded him. "No last goodbyes?"

"No. I don't know if anyone else has found out about this, but I know Eveline has noticed something wrong about me, but I need you to bring my message to them." Alan told them about the next captain of the troupe, what to do about his children, and how to deal with his funeral. "I've been tortured this whole time. Every time I see my children trapped in a beast's body, every time I think about the night Rachel died, every time I remember about my wife's passing, I feel this pain in my chest. It's suffocating. It's time. It's time to free my children from the curse and atone for my sins with my blood. Only then do I have the right to see Sheena again."

The long downpour finally ended, the dark clouds splitting apart, revealing the moon in all its splendor. The young man raised Gwyhyr high in the sky and looked at a place not far from him.

There, a menacing silhouette was kneeling on one knee, whispering to a pair of adorable birds. His eyes were filled with love and longing, but he knew what had to be done. "Remember the game we always play, Art, Arri? Right, here goes."

He took a deep breath. "Close your eyes now. Turn around and count from ten. Come and find me whenever you're done. The one who finds me first gets a bedtime story from daddy tonight. Don't peep, Art. Don't peep, you hear me? Don't peep…"

Alan's final message resounded in the air for a while, but eventually, everything fell silent, his last smile etched on his face.

Chapter 94

Roy and Letho came out of the forest with a pair of naked children in their arms. The children were drenched in blood, and their faces were drained of all color. They were curled up in the duo's arms, but their eyelids kept trembling, as if they were having a nightmare.

The children fainted the moment Alan's blood was splattered across their backs, so they hadn't seen the moment their father was decapitated. That was one silver lining in the tragedy, perhaps.

"We have a Child of the Sun here. If only we knew how to make the antidote… Alan wouldn't have had to die."

"Don't think too much about it. That was his fate. He reneged on his promise, so he was punished with death." Letho looked calm about it, as if he were talking about lunch.

Roy agreed with him, but he still felt sad when he saw the latest record in his character sheet.

'You killed a cursed one — Alan the Werewolf. EXP +200. Level 4 Witcher (800/2000).'

The EXP he got didn't sit well with him. He was conflicted about it. Alan wasn't innocent, since he did go back on his promise and repaid Rachel's help with betrayal, but at the same time, he truly loved his children and was a good father.

"Don't feel sad, boy. He chose salvation." Letho sighed. "And you should have noticed he'd wanted to die for a while."

Most of the search team had come back to the caravan. They were covered in blood, especially Kantilla. She was caressing her blade languidly, looking as satisfied as a beast who'd just feasted on its prey.

When the duo came back, everyone was surprised about the kids they were holding. The women quickly cleaned them up and covered them with blankets. Then they warmed the kids up near the bonfire.

"We killed some drowners in the swamp, but no signs of Alan anywhere. What happened, Letho? Where did these kids come from?"

The duo looked at each other. They'd debated about it on the way back, but in the end, they decided to do as Alan had told them to, even if that'd draw some flak. "This is what really happened, but please brace yourselves for it."

The troupe members received the news differently. Some thought the duo murdered Alan, some started fearing for themselves at the mention of curses, cults, and werewolves, while some slowly accepted the story after the initial shock.

Fortunately, the main troupe members chose to believe the duo. They'd noticed Alan's weird actions over the years, though they'd never confronted him about it.

"I always thought Art and Arri were too close to Alan. Their collaboration was seamless. I see, so they're his kids, the only proof of his existence. Alan was a good father, but he worried too much. We've been friends for years now. He could have told us about it."

"He probably didn't want us to feel sad about it. Alan's always been that way. He puts everyone else first. His nightly hunts with Arri were also his way of keeping us safe." Kantilla gritted her teeth and sighed. "So what if he's a monster? Zerrikanians don't care about that as long as they're our friends."

Then Amos suddenly spoke up. "Alan had been acting weird, but he never harmed the troupe. He was a great captain, but I don't trust the witcher." He glared at the duo. "Witchers are cold-blooded animals who would kill any monster they come across. I don't believe you'd actually help Alan if he were a werewolf. You must've lied to him and killed him when his guard was down!"

"We killed him because he wanted to free his children." Letho threw him a cold look. "He saved his soul and his children by giving up his own life."

"Y'know, I knew something was wrong with you here ever since I played Gwent with you." Roy pointed at his head. "You say this is just a story we're making up to cover our murder, but what about the kids? We aren't gods. We can't just snap our fingers and make them appear out of thin air."

"Um…" Amos was at a loss for words for a while. When he was about to retort, Eveline shot him a dirty look, forcing him to swallow his words.

"I trust them." She sighed. "It's just like Alan to do this. The most important thing now is his funeral. We can't let him rot in the wilds."

"His body's still there." Alan had turned back to his human form after the decapitation. "I'll take you guys there later. But he wanted you guys to burn his body right there and collect his remains. Spread his ashes in the Newi if you ever travel to Rivendell. His wife was sent off the same way."

The troupe members were surprised to hear that.

"Alan wouldn't tell that to anyone," Eveline decided. "So now we know they aren't lying."

"Thanks for understanding." Roy sighed. "Alan's been suffering from the curse for a long time now. He wanted to see Sheena again, but he held on for the kids." 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐧𝗼𝘃𝐞𝐥．𝗰𝐨𝗺

The troupe stayed around for a couple of days to retrieve Alan's remains. They burned his body with normal fire and Letho's Igni for a long time, but eventually, they managed to turn Alan's remains into bones and ash. They collected everything.

The caravan's mood was gloomy as everyone mourned for their late captain for a while. Many of the members were tearing up too.

"Right. Alan's probably reunited with his wife in Melitele's kingdom now. First things first. What should we do about Art and Arri?"

"We take care of them, of course!" Kantilla thumped her chest.

"And we need a new captain as soon as possible. Preferably someone charismatic!" Amos quickly voiced his opinion, only getting everyone's glares in return. He shut up.

"Alan said he wanted Eveline to take his place." Everyone was surprised to hear that from Roy, but most of them accepted it. Not Amos though, but a single vote was useless.

Collins was huddling with Ferroz as usual. Ferroz took a deep breath and put his hands together to plead. "So Collins and I have been dating for years, but we can't have any children of our own, and I'm sure you guys know why. We've been thinking about that for a long time." Then his face was flushed with excitement. "Alan treated us like family, and we're grateful for him. We've always wanted to repay our debt, but we never had the chance. Until now. If it's fine with everyone, we'd like to adopt the kids as thanks to Alan's help. And we'll take care of them like they're our kids. In a way, they're our dream come true."

"Yeah!" Collins quickly backed his lover up.

"Please, everyone!" They held their hands together and bowed to everyone deeply for the longest time.

"Um…" Everyone was taken by surprise. They never thought the gay couple was any different from other couples, but instinctively, they thought Ferroz and Collins were different from a heterosexual couple. They couldn't let them adopt Alan's kids.

And so, the members were in a dilemma. Eveline and Amos wanted to refuse, but they didn't want to hurt them. Roy kept quiet for a while before stepping in. "Arri and Art are special, in a sense. Not anyone can adopt them. They've been living as a falcon and an owl for five years, so they operate differently from normal humans. Owls are nocturnal creatures who can get really active at night. They feed on frogs, insects, and other small creatures. On the other hand, falcons love to dive from high up in the air. Can you even imagine how Art would act? And besides, Alan wanted them to get adopted by the Temple of Melitele in Ellander. It's a good place filled with kind, gentle souls."

Chapter 95

"Art, stop!" Eveline massaged her temples, but that didn't cheer her up at all.

Ferroz was trying to catch him, but Art kept dodging him. Still thinking he had wings, he ran around the caravan like a wild rooster, flapping his arms, hunching his back, craning his neck, lifting his butt. The boy ran ahead like a falcon, trying to fly, but he couldn't.

He babbled as he flapped his arms, trying to speak, but his tongue kept getting twisted, much to Eveline's worry. She wondered if he'd bite it off. "He's cheeky."

Everyone else watched with great interest. They were both sad and amused, since Art reminded them of Alan's death, but at the same time, Art brought some life to the troupe.

"That's better than being depressed." Roy was glad Art was cheeky. "Keep Alan's death a secret until they're older."

"Arri's even more troublesome."

Roy was reminded of a hilarious scene in the carriage. Arri thought she was still an owl, so she wanted to perch on the wooden club, but since she turned back into a human, she fell face first into the ground and got a bruise. Arri kept crying, but then she seemed to remember her missing father and stopped making any sounds altogether.

But the biggest problem was the children having a limited vocabulary. They couldn't talk in any human tongue either, and they were psychologically worse off than their peers. They were only sensitive to friendliness and mockery. I hope they get better soon.

They arrived in a city in Ellander's vicinity one week after that. The sky was overcast. Then they went west, eventually reaching the city of Ellander. The great city was situated south of the Valley of Pontar, which was on Mahakam's west. The Valley of Pontar was also the intersection point of Temeria, Redania, Aedirn, and Kaedwen, the four biggest kingdoms in the north. It was one of the most important military strips in the north.

As the people would say, 'He who controls the Valley of Pontar controls the north.' That was how important the valley was. Thanks to it being on the way to the valley, Ellander enjoyed prosperity. Not only was it a military base, it was also a business hub. Of course, Novigrad remained the biggest city, housing thirty thousand citizens, but Ellander boasted ten thousand residents in its city.

Thanks to that, business opportunities bloomed. Ellander's merchants set up a merchant's association in the city, taking their unique merchandise to sell in the city. Because of that, organizations like the architect's association and blacksmith's association opened shop in Ellander, and their business boomed. On top of that, Vizima, the capital of Temeria, was not that far away either, making transport convenient.

There was a long line in front of the gates since it was rush hour, but even so, the guards, who were armed to the teeth, checked everyone diligently.

Roy told Eveline to meet up at an inn later before leaving with Letho. "It's been a while since your last trip to Ellander, right?" Roy explained, "From what I know, they don't take well to witchers now."

It was early 1261 at the moment. Roy remembered Geralt getting screwed over seven years ago in the year 1254, right after he was dubbed the Butcher of Blaviken. The Order of the White Rose insulted him, calling him worthless, and then he was forced to enter a battle where he was prohibited from fighting back.

Geralt had managed to stay alive in the end, but that angered the Order of the White Rose, and by extension, Hereward, the noble who took pride in the knight order. Even the Temerian Royal Council had complaints about him. Roy thought Geralt's actions would cause trouble for Letho if someone found out he was a witcher.

Letho shrugged dismissively. "Been twenty years, but I never heard any kingdoms banning witchers from passing through. Every city has its own share of monster issues. Where there are monsters, there are requests. They won't say no to us." Letho was calm but firm. "And we have to replenish our alchemy stock."

"I see. Let's see if we can get in without getting checked." Roy looked ahead and saw the Temple of Melitele. It was near the mountain outside the city. He'd go right there once they settled in the city.

The duo didn't disguise themselves too much. Roy covered his hair and ears with a white towel, while Letho wore some shabby clothes instead of his witcher attire. He didn't even show his school's emblem, his sword, or his potions. If Roy didn't know better, he'd think Letho was just a brawny farmer trying to get into a city.

But things didn't go well for them. Roy managed to slip past the guards, but the guard said coldly, "Raise your head."

Roy froze up for a moment before looking back, but he realized the guard was glaring at Letho. He was holding his sword, ready to strike at any time.

The guards at the entrance surrounded them, watching with great interest. The air turned heavy, and a deafening silence surrounded them. Even the travelers stopped to see what the fuss was all about. 𝚋ｅｄｎ𝚘𝚟ｅｌ.ｃｏ𝚖

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, big guy. Raise your head!"

Letho's lips curled into a cruel smile, but only for a moment. He loosened his fists and sighed ever so audibly before looking up. Roy felt sad for him. No matter how powerful a witcher was, they had to bow before overwhelming numbers.

"Oh, we got a witcher here!" The guard holding a spear opened his face armor, smirking at Letho. "Never seen one so shabby before. Thought you could change the color of your eyes just because you're in peasant attire? Did your brain get fried during your mutation, freak?" He looked at his colleagues before bursting out in laughter.

The guards were smaller in size compared to Letho, but they laughed at him as if he were nothing more than a beggar. Letho took their insults until they were done laughing. "Right, back to business. Trying to slip in, weren't you?"

"Slip in?" Letho frowned. "You guys screened me, didn't you? What? Ellander not welcoming witchers?"

"No, but someone is interested in you. You'll have to see him first."

"Is this Ellander's law? Does everyone have to see him before they can enter?"

"No, this is an order. Bors, take the witcher to the waiting room. Don, call Tylers over here. Tell the knight the one he's obsessed about is here."

"Wait." Roy came to Letho's side, much to the guards' surprise. Then he took a deep breath. "I'm with him."

"I knew it! I knew something was up." The guard gave Letho a mocking look. "Witchers doing what they do best — kidnapping children."

"No. I'm his disciple, and I'll be a witcher too sometime in the future."

Chapter 96

"The people won't take to us kindly, boy," Letho reminded. "But don't flip them off. We're on their turf, after all."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not an idiot," Roy grumbled. "When in Temeria, do as the Temerians do."

"Good." Letho nodded. "But if they get on your nerves, try to see them as dogs." Letho gave weird advice. "Every time they bark at you, throw them a bone or something. Not literal ones, of course, but you know what I mean. They'll wag their tails once their ego is satisfied — especially those knights."

"I-I see." Roy shot him a look of surprise. He never expected a straight man like Letho to come up with such a quirky idea.

A short while later, a pair of knights came to the clearing near the gates, where the duo was waiting. Letho and Roy bowed and observed them. The one on the left was in white armor and wore a red cape, a white rose engraved on his left shoulder piece. Every step he took made his armor creak.

He was young, but he had a scar running down from his forehead to his nose. He could have been a handsome man, but instead he looked sinister. The knight's gaze was set on Letho, but there was only rage within him.

Standing beside him was a short and sturdy dwarf who was wearing a jacket made of fox pelts and chainmail armor. He was looking at the duo sternly with his arms crossed.

"Shit," Roy cursed silently. "Damn you, Murphy's law." He knew the scarred man was the same knight Geralt had defeated, and judging by the look on his face, he was a tough one to handle.

"State your name, witcher. And that goes for your companion too," the scarred knight ordered them imperiously.

"We're only nameless peasants, noble knights. Our names are nothing but an insult to you." Letho bowed humbly, but he was scanning his surroundings for any high ground he could take. At the same time, the spearmen around the gates were watching them closely.

The scarred knight's face fell, and he went closer to the duo. When he was only ten feet away from them, he looked up arrogantly, not unlike a swan that was craning its neck. "I am Arthur Tailles, firstborn of the Tailles family, knight of the fourth corps of the Order of the White Rose, and a loyal servant of King Hereward. Witcher, now that I have stated my name, I demand the same from you. Any defiance will be seen as an insult to the order!"

Roy arched his eyebrow. Still as arrogant as ever. Left with no choice, Letho answered, "I'm Letho, a witcher from the School of the Viper. This is my disciple, Roy."

"How can you prove it? Where's your crest? And why are you trying to get into Ellander City?" Tailles asked a lot of questions, and his hand was already on his blade. If Letho showed even an ounce of hesitation, he would cut him down. His teammate's lip twitched, and the dwarf took a deep breath.

"I think you know why we're trying to get into Ellander. We got into a few fights before this and wrecked our equipment. Most of our supplies are gone, so we need to restock in the city. And my leg's lame too. Here's my insignia. Please show mercy to us, sir. Let us pass through Ellander."

"I see." Arthur looked at the necklace and nodded. When he confirmed that Letho was unarmed and lame, his eyes gleamed. "Letho from the Viper School, I, Arthur Tailles, from the Order of the White Rose, challenge you to a duel!" He unsheathed his sword and held it with both hands, pointing it at Letho.

"But Mr. Tailles, you're a noble knight. Don't you think it's too much of an honor for me? I'm just a witcher. Not even a knight. I don't think I'm worthy of this."

"Yes," Roy added. "We're not worthy of the honor of a knight's duel," he scorned himself.

Tailles stopped them. "We have a creed here. If you were the ones challenging me, then I'd have the right to refuse, but since I'm challenging you, you must accept, or you're nothing but a piece of worthless trash. I see you as my equal, but of course, it is just temporary."

"Um…" Roy was shocked by the ridiculous declaration. Crazy arrogant bastard. "That's… quite the logical explanation you got there. I guess you must be a fan of philosophy too." The highest stat he has is seven. Damn, he's stupid. I could probably take him down if it weren't a duel of swords. If he doesn't wear his armor, of course.

The sarcasm flew past Tailles' head, and Letho asked, "What will happen if I refuse, then? Aside from being seen as trash?"

"Then you must leave Ellander. Our city doesn't welcome cowards."

The dwarf chuckled. "Ah, shut up," he said gruffly. "You're a knight. Remember the creed. This is just shameful."

"No, you shut up, Cranmer!" Tailles' face was flushed. "This is personal! I must defeat a witcher to regain my honor! I don't mind you tagging along, but if you're butting in, then I'm smashing your head in!"

"Try me. I ain't letting you do whatever you want," the dwarf retorted.

Arthur gnashed his teeth. "Go back to your troops or I'm telling on you."

Cranmer? Dennis Cranmer? Roy's eyes gleamed. Cranmer's a dwarf with a sense of justice and equality. He's going to join the army of the Mahakams in the second war to resist Nilfgaard's invasion. This guy's important to Mount Carbon. I think I'll take this. "Dennis Cranmer? Are you the Dennis Cranmer?" Roy went up and feigned surprise.

"You know me?" Dennis looked at him with doubt.

"Reagan told me about you back in Mount Carbon."

"Reagan? Reagan Dahlberg?" Dennis rubbed his nose for a while, and then he remembered who Reagan was. "Oh, that boy's all grown up now, huh? He was still a snotty little dwarf thirty years back. So, is he doing fine? As a dwarf, I mean."

"He's a master crossbowman now. And a reigning champion, too."

"I see he's even more of a troublemaker than his brother is." Dennis gave him a friendly look. "So how do you know him?"

"I learned how to shoot from him for a bit." Roy stared down awkwardly. "But I'm stupid, so I didn't get a lot of his teachings."

Dennis was excited to see someone who just came from his hometown, so he talked with Roy about Mount Carbon, leaving Arthur alone. Roy made a new friend out of him after they talked. He even spoke about the time he and Letho took out the leshen and the nekkers in the tunnels, effectively helping the dwarves.

The dwarf patted his shoulder. "Ah, I see. Now that you're my friend…" He turned around to Arthur. "This is no longer personal. Roy's a part of my family now, so his mentor is my friend. You are forbidden from venting your anger on them."

Tailles glowered at Dennis. "How dare you, Dennis Cranmer?"

"Ah, shut up." Dennis snorted. "Count Falwick's not even here. You have no one to rely on, and dwarves always stand up for their friends. You want to get them? Then face me first. Or you can tell King Hereward about this. Let him decide."

Arthur's veins popped, but he couldn't do anything. He glared at the three of them and threatened, "Just you wait. You'd better not pull anything in the city, or I'll rip a new one."

"You'd better not harass them, Tailles, or you're getting it."

After Arthur was gone, Dennis turned to the duo. "Don't worry, you two. That bastard gets on everybody's nerves. He ruined his reputation himself. If you run into any trouble, come to the castle and tell them I sent you. I'll help you out."

"Thank you for your help." Roy bowed sincerely.

"Ah, what are friends for? Let's drink when we have the time. Not good to let the guests go without some wine."

"I'll take one request for free," Letho offered.

"Ellander does have its own share of problems, but most of them aren't really big." Dennis smiled. "It's fine, Letho, but I'll take you up on the offer." 𝘣𝘦𝑑𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝑙．𝑐𝑜𝘮

Chapter 97

Cranmer left them shortly after that. The duo went along the main path leading into the city, where buildings were crammed together. The sellers were hollering at everyone who went past, trying to get their attention.

"Magic salve! Get your magic salve here! Cures everything from patches to scabies! You won't get it elsewhere!"

"Look here. I got some talismans and pills. Get one today and regain your youth. And look at this. Hallucinative potion. One gulp and you'll know what ecstasy is like. Some swear this even gives the dead a boner."

"Got a mice infestation? You came to the right place, folks. Look at this cat. It's cute, cuddly, and catches mice faster than you can say 'meow!' And it's a great companion too! Perfect for the family!"

"Hey, you look like you need a tooth extraction. I bet that toothache is driving you nuts. Then step right up. I offer painless tooth extraction, and at a low, low cost too."

"How low can you do?" Roy asked the dentist. He wondered how a dentist could work with a chair, a bottle of wine, and some rope.

"Ten copper an hour." The lean dentist grinned toothily at him, but his teeth were black.

The duo rendezvoused with the troupe after leaving the shady street, and they hired a guide to show them the way around town. Finally, the group settled in a remote inn called 'Pot Belly.' The inn's lobby was mostly taken up by the troupe, much to the innkeeper's delight. On the other hand, Eveline was twirling her hair, looking troubled.

"Living in the city costs a lot. The accommodation fees ate up most of the money Alan left us. We can't go on like this. Kantilla, take some guys with you to survey the plaza and the crowded spots in the city. See if you can get us a spot to perform."

Kantilla put her legs on the table languidly. "Sure, boss."

"Everyone else can take the day off. It's been a tiring journey." 𝙗𝒆𝙙𝙣𝒐𝙫𝙚𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝒎

The troupe members went to do their own stuff. Some played Gwent, some kept drinking, and some went upstairs to have some fun. "So what next, Roy? Are you leaving with Letho?" Eveline gave Roy a gentle look, as if saying she wanted him to stay.

Roy nodded stiffly.

"I've been traveling for years. Just when I finally got a friend, you're already leaving." She pulled him closer, almost kissing him. "Witchers live a dangerous life. Why don't you stay with me in the troupe? You won't mind, will you, Letho? After all, you have a lot of disciples, right?" She grinned cheekily at Letho.

"Um…" Roy almost lost himself when she hugged him, but only for a moment. His will was getting stronger by the day, after all. Even so, he had to put on a show. "I don't want to say goodbye either, Eveline — " And then he felt her pushing his head against her chest. Oh, so this is how a woman's chest feels like. Feels like a dream.

He was almost suffocating from the soft, bouncy breasts that enveloped his face. All he could smell was the intoxicating fragrance from Eveline.

Letho crossed his arms, watching the shenanigan unfold. Then he smiled sarcastically. "I'll respect your choice, Roy." He'd given his permission, though Roy knew that wasn't the case. "You can pursue a career as a circus performer. I won't force you." He emphasized the last sentence.

Roy could imagine Letho hunting him down if he took Eveline's offer, and he shivered. I'd like a girlfriend, but not now. Not yet. He shot up and cleared his mind. "Thank you, Eveline." He held her hand. "But Letho's probably gonna get himself eaten by wild beasts without my help, so…"

"I see. Take care, then." Eveline sighed and stared down in silence.

"Are the kids still asleep?" Roy shifted the topic awkwardly. The troupe members had been trying to work with Arri and Art over the last couple of days, but that messed up their biological clock, so they could fall asleep at any given moment.

Eveline composed herself, but it was obvious she still wanted Roy to stay. "We have to find them a home. The troupe can't take care of them forever, since we wander the world. Alan said the Temple of Melitele was a good place. But I'd like to see if there's anything better. I want real professionals. Oh, and I might run into you there."

"Hey, Letho. Is it me, or has Eveline been acting weird around me?"

Letho rubbed his chin and realized something incredible. "Whoa, you're saying you don't get it? You're usually the smart aleck, so what happened? Taken up by your lust for a woman's body?"

"Alright, stop joking." Roy clenched his fist, as if threatening to crush Letho's hand. "I just refused a woman all for you, you know?"

"Yes, yes, you weren't imagining it. Eveline was trying to mate with you." Letho nodded. "Elves aren't exactly a fertile race, unlike humans, who breed like rabbits. To make things worse, they're only fertile at certain ages. You're a young part-elf, and she's already of marrying age."

Elves were elegant and enjoyed a long lifespan, but they were also open about sex. Roy had heard stories about how elves would fuck their comrades as much as possible before they died to keep the fear of death at bay.

"But I'm a minor."

"Not exactly. You're a part-elf, so you grow almost at the same rate as humans do. You're gonna be mature in a few years. Not to mention you can live a long life, and your looks are acceptable for them." Letho gave Roy a look that sent a chill down the boy's spine. "Eveline's a beautiful, gentle, and sexy woman. You sure you don't want to stay with her?"

Roy was reminded of the feeling of Eveline's gigantic breasts, but he quickly stopped himself from thinking about it. His body had changed ever since he ingested the Child of the Sun, as if he were giving in to his primal urges. "Forget it. I prefer monster killing."

"Wipe your drool away." Letho stood up with the help of his crutch. "Time to sell off the stuff in your pocket and restock some alchemy supplies. Then, we're going to the temple."

Chapter 98

Roy got a lot of materials in his inventory space after the battles in Smiack. There were hundreds of nekker eyes, tongues, ears, innards, and all sorts of organs. They were going to sell everything off aside from the green mutagens, the fangs, and the claws. They had to make the potion for the trial and some bolts for Roy.

The parts would net them some money and free up some space. As Temeria's duchy, Ellander was filled with all kinds of merchants selling every item under the sun. Of course, there were also those who'd buy monster parts, though the price could vary. If the merchant knew the seller was an amateur, they'd lowball them, but Letho was no amateur. He had lived for eighty years and knew much about the market.

His strategy was simple: name his price to the buyer and stare at them in silence for a few moments. Some of the buyers would make a better offer after getting stared at for a short while, and about thirty seconds later, they'd give him the offer he wanted.

Letho's sharp gaze, intimidating build, and scary look were enough to scare the buyers into submission. After selling the parts to three buyers, they managed to make two hundred crowns, but then they spent the money on their alchemy supplies.

The duo had a hard time after consuming all their items in the tunnels, so the first order of business after getting out was to restock, and it was a big restock. They got a lot of items, including belisse fruits, arenaria, celandine, and a lot of herbs. They also got sulfur, phosphorus, and saltpeter to make bombs. There was also Mahakaman liquor, Kirsch, and Fiorano in Roy's inventory space. Then they went to an established blacksmith in the city to make bolts for Roy. Each cost twenty coppers, and Roy made a hundred of them.

The bolts had more penetrative power than normal ones, and they were also heavier. The tip had some nekker venom on it so it could kill better. Letho needed to sharpen his sword and short sword, which also cost them. Gwyhyr didn't dull — even though it had gone through a few battles — thanks to the gnomes' craftsmanship. It could still slice even the thinnest hair easily, and all Letho had to do was maintain it with grease.

Also, the duo wouldn't let a stranger get a hold on the sword. Finally, Letho went to a clothes shop to make two sets of grey leather armor and pairs of long boots. Wearing shabby clothes made it hard for him to move, and they offered no protection. The armor was not cheap.

Then came sundown, and the whole city basked in its golden light. Roy went through the bills after their purchase and was shocked by how much they'd spent. It was all the money from their sales and they'd had to pay quite a lot from their own pockets. Whoa. Witchers may make a lot of coins, but it's a risky job, and it takes a lot out of their pockets.

They only had around a hundred crowns left. Even without spending on drinks and women, finances were tight. "I think we should take some requests, Letho. We need crowns." Roy stared at Letho expectantly. If he managed to kill one more type of monster, all he had to do was pass the trial, and he'd become a rookie witcher.

He had never taken any request from the bulletin board ever since he'd followed Letho, but he wanted to. It was a rite of passage for a witcher.

"Not at the moment." Letho gave him a piercing look. "Haven't you had enough in Smiack? It's time to rest. You're going to help me with some alchemy work," he commanded. "Once we are set with the potion, we'll be heading to the temple."

Letho rented a place with a kitchen so he could change it into a lab, just like how he did in Aldersberg. The only difference was he had Roy to help, so they spent half a day turning the kitchen into a makeshift lab. Roy noticed the familiar cauldron, mortar, alembic, bellows, and pestle from those days in Aldersberg, and he almost fainted. He could see himself toiling over the making of potions and bombs from day to night again.

But he had an inexplicable desire for it. He wanted to feel a sense of accomplishment when he managed to make that one potion after thousands of tries. Thus, he took the cauldron and mortar and started his —

"Alright, you're starting with the marigold potion," Letho interrupted him. "Tell me the recipe and the steps."

"Two ounces of dried marigold, one ounce of nettle, and mix them together in the mortar," Roy blurted, since he could never forget the recipe. It felt like it was seared into his soul.

"Not bad. It's been a month, but you still remember it." Letho gave him a look of approval. "Now for the potion making. Let's see if it's as good as your theory."

Roy moved by reflex, as if he were a master alchemist. He put a sack of marigold and nettle on the right surface before weighing them, then put them into the mortar and crushed them with the pestle.

Fifteen minutes later, the liquid in the cauldron was starting to simmer, a faint fragrance wafting across the lab. Roy quickly killed the heat and poured the potion into a glass container. His grip was firm, and not even a drop of potion went to waste. Finally, he corked it.

Letho swirled the potion. "Have you been practicing?" He was surprised. "You haven't been doing this for a month, but you improved?"

"Probably because of the Child of the Sun," Roy said. "I can control my body better now." Having one more point in Dexterity certainly helped Roy.

"This is a surprise. Well, you're done with marigold potions now. Let's move on to the next one." Letho paused for a moment. "It's a kind of poison. We used it in Smiack."

"Oh, the paralyzing one?"

"Yes, but not the same thing we used. This is the full version. It's harder to do. One dose is all it takes to paralyze someone entirely. It's hell for them."

Roy's eyes shone. He'd wanted to make one ever since he'd used it in the tunnels. The paralyzing poison would be a more useful tool than oils or bombs in certain scenarios, but then Letho stopped his thoughts. "You'll have to promise you'll only use this as a last resort, no matter what. Effective immediately. Can you do that?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Don't use this on the innocent." Letho was reminded of his school's dark past. "The school went down the wrong path for a very long time. We emphasized on poisons more than potions, and we took assassination requests just like the Cat School witchers. But we were worse. So much worse than they were. Because of that, our reputation took a hit." Letho paused. "We'd ask every disciple to take in a pet and make them kill it before the training ended so they'd grow indifferent."

Roy was shocked, since Letho never asked him to do that, nor did he expect the school to have such a dark past. At the same time, he was glad he was born at the right time. He wasn't necessarily a kind person, but he wouldn't kill needlessly either. "So you also…"

"Yes, and obviously that was wrong. It sped up the school's death." Letho was solemn. "It's hard to stop once you start abusing your power. Eventually, you're going to lose yourself to it. If you were to turn out like that, I'd take you back to the school for reeducation." He emphasized 'reeducation.'

Roy's heart skipped a beat. "Very well, then. I swear on my name as a witcher of the Viper School to only use poison as a last resort." Roy had made another promise. "But Letho…" Roy remembered what Letho ended up doing, so he looked at him. "What if you need to use this to revive the school? Will you do it?"

"It depends on who the target is," Letho answered after a short while of silence.

"What if it's the king?"

"What's the matter with you?" Letho refused to answer. "That's it for assassination talk. Alright, let's get on with it. Remember the simplified version's recipe?"

"Crush the comfrey, extract the longrube's juice, cut up the wolfsbane…"

Roy spent most of his time over the next few days making the poison, resting only for meals and meditation. Thanks to his experience with the marigold potion, he finally managed to make one dose of poison on the third day after dozens of failures.

And then his character sheet shook. A new skill was born.

'Alchemy Level 1: A crafting skill that allows you to make oils, potions, decoctions, poisons, and bombs. Rank: beginner alchemist. You now possess the skills to make: marigold potion, paralyzing poison.' Roy was excited to see that, since he finally saw the fruits of his labor.

"Is this the only poison we can make, Letho? Or are there more?"

"Yes, but not now. First, make five doses of paralyzing poison and five marigold potions. Keep them in your pocket. And help me with the decoctions and bombs."

Chapter 99

Roy was checking the items on the table, the light in the lab illuminating his face. "Two Dancing Stars." Roy held two green glass containers and tossed them into the air. When they came down, he grabbed them and opened his palms, then the canisters were gone.

He turned to the blue bottle with yellow bands tied around it. "One dimeritium bomb. Didn't have enough dimeritium." He pointed at the bomb, then it disappeared, just like the Dancing Stars.

"Two Dragon's Dream, two Swallows, five doses of paralyzing poison, and five marigold potions." He brushed his hand across the crystal clear potions and five yellow potions. "Everything is accounted for." Roy looked at Letho, who was meditating, and smiled. It took them a week of nonstop work, but they'd finally restocked their item supply.

During that time, they'd gone to take the crossbow bolts and Letho's sword at the smithy, then they'd taken the leather armor sets from the clothes shop, though they were shabbier than Roy had thought. And then all that was left was the trial.

Letho stopped meditating, though he had a concerned look on his face. "Alright, leave me alone now, boy. I'll be staying here for a few days to process the ingredients for the decoction. Do not disturb me. Take a stroll around Ellander."

Roy heaved a sigh of relief, though he was curious about the potion. He wouldn't push his luck though, since he was on the verge of breaking down. "I can assist you, though."

"Not at your level," Letho refused. "And this is important. We can't afford any mistakes, or the potion's going to end up killing you."

The news shocked Roy. "So why do I have to wait until we get to the temple then?"

"That's where you're wrong," Letho answered. "You're taking the potion the moment it's done. Like I said, I'm just processing the ingredients. I'm not cooking it up yet."

He paused for a moment. "I left that part out for a reason. The head priestess has a greenhouse, and I need some of the herbs there. Also, their lab is better than whatever we have here. You'll need her help for the trial too. She's a sorceress."

"What if she refuses you?"

"She owes me one, and I have an ace up my sleeve," Letho replied. "She will help out. Alright. Take your potion of the week and get out. Come back in three days."

Roy exited the lab wearing a black leather armor set, and he was sweating.

Ellander was a bustling city. The sun was shining warmly, and the people were frolicking around the streets. Compared to the people in villages and small towns, Ellander's citizens had a better fashion sense. Instead of the usual grey and black, the people wore colorful clothes and stylish accessories, like hats, necklaces, rings, belts, and brooches.

Roy took a deep breath and stretched himself. That hits the spot. He would've liked to have gone to an inn for some Gwent, but he had a more pressing matter at hand. Since he was alone for the time being, he wanted to accept a request all by himself, but not long after he'd gotten out to the streets, a temptress beckoned him. She had heavy makeup, a luscious smile, and her hair tumbled down her shoulders.

Roy looked at her, but he turned away and left after a moment. Young ladies would braid their hair, married women would cover themselves with a hat or a headscarf, while noble ladies would perm their hair. Warriors, on the other hand, would cut it short. The only women who'd let their hair stay the way it was were druids and prostitutes. It was a show of freedom and independence.

The woman who was trying to seduce Roy was the latter, but Roy didn't give in. He didn't want to get into a bad habit.

Roy eventually arrived at the bulletin board in the city center, but it was dusty and filled with cobwebs. He thought he could get some great requests, but reality was often disappointing.

"What the heck is this? They want me to find their missing cat?" He shook his head in disgust. "I'm not a firefighter. I don't have time for this. This woman wants me to catch her cheating husband in the act?" Roy mocked, "An eye for an eye, then. Just start an affair yourself." He looked at another request and balked. "And this wants a caretaker for a paralyzed lady? Nope, sorry. I'm not a caretaker. Oh, this one's interesting." Roy looked at the lower right, where a new request was posted. "A missing boy, huh?" He finally got serious.

The request read, "Look ye! This is an emergency! Help needed! Bounty hunters, witchers, or whoever you are, I shall pay you a hundred and fifty crowns for this job. My son, Berschel, went missing after he went to fish at a river outside the city. If anyone wants to help, come to the bakery in eastern Ellander. For experienced people only. Amateurs back off." 𝙗𝙚𝒅𝒏𝒐𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The kid went missing in a rural area when he was fishing. Roy rubbed his chin, pondering the case. That doesn't narrow it down much. Could have been human traffickers or something, but this is promising. I'll look into this.

The bakery was sweltering, but Huckle didn't care. He was neatly putting dough and more dough into the elliptical oven. Huckle had been working as a baker for twenty years, and at least a third of the citizens were his customers. Baking used to be the thing he liked to do the most. It was gratifying to see raw dough turn into brown, fluffy bread. Every time he saw them come out perfectly, it brought a smile to his face.

But no longer. He had been gloomy over the last couple of days. He liked bread, but his son was more important. Every time he thought of his missing son, he would start to shake, and an urge to cry would seize him. Huckle knew what every missing person in Ellander would end up as: a corpse, or a chewed-out corpse. Not many came back alive. I'll keep looking after this.

"Hello. Might you be Huckle the baker?" someone called out, snapping him out of his nightmare.

Huckle composed himself and took his mittens off. "Yes, but the kitchen is off limits. Go to the storefront for the bread. You won't find a better offer. Twenty crowns is all you need for one satisfying loaf of bread. It's all dough and nothing else. No sawdust, no clay, no potash." He reflexively promoted his bread. "I also accept payment in terms of flour. Any type of flour. I'll keep some, but you'll get most of it back as bread."

"Sorry, but I'm not a customer." Roy put on a smile. He noticed the baker's bloodshot eyes, and the fact he was wearing nothing but thin clothes. "Mr. Huckle, I'm Roy, a witcher. I came for the request you put up. Can you tell me what happened?"

Huckle froze for a moment, then he sized Roy up. Crude leather armor and long boots, trimmed hair, nice nose, good eyes. Good looking, approachable, muscular, and tall. But his skin is smooth, and he looks like a kid. He's probably not even fifteen. Huckle waved him down. "You're pulling my leg, boy. I need an experienced one, not a kid like you. And I'm not taking any disciples now. I don't need any help around the shop."

Roy slammed his weapons on the baker's workstation, much to Huckle's shock. The sight of the crossbow and the steel sword made the baker retreat, then he picked up his baking implement.

"Calm down. You would have been dead if I wanted to rob you. I'll let you in on a secret." Roy wanted that effect. Then he kept on lying, "I'm a part-elf, so I look younger than I am. I'm of age now, and I've taken on my fair share of requests." He showed Huckle his ears. The moment Huckle took a look, Roy hid his ears again. "Your son's disappearance smells fishy, doesn't it?" he asked seriously. "That's why you need an experienced witcher. The earlier he's found, the higher the chances of survival. If you give up now, it might be a month before the next witcher comes around."

The baker finally wavered, since Roy was right. He was running out of time.

"I'm not here for the deposit. Just tell me what I want to know." Roy raised his head confidently and went closer to Huckle. "You can keep the money if I fail to find your son."

The baker finally stopped frowning. No harm in telling him. I lose nothing, and I get a free helper. Huckle took a deep breath before leading him to the storefront. He took off his hat, revealing his unkempt hair underneath. Then, he sat down. "Want some bread, Roy? Fresh out the oven."

"I had something to eat just now, so thanks for the offer. Let's talk business." Roy crossed his arms sternly as he tried to put on airs.

"Your eyes are different from the other witchers, though. Everyone says witchers have the eyes of a beast, but your eyes look the same as mine."

"Because I'm a part-elf. All the witchers you've seen used to be human," Roy answered forcefully, staring at Huckle. "Now talk."

Huckle wiped the sweat off his face. "Very well, then." Deciding to trust Roy for the time being, he said, "My son, Berschel, just turned eighteen this year — "

"Yes, you said that in the request. When and where did he go missing?"

"Twenty-seventh of December. That was two days ago. Berschel went fishing at Wigan outside southern Ellander at one in the afternoon. It had been his usual hunt. He goes there once every fortnight and spends most of the day there. Fishing's his only hobby. He lives with me and is still single, so he has nowhere else to go," Huckle bemoaned. "Berschel always comes home before seven, but he didn't come back that day, even after nine." Huckle slammed the chair with his fist. "I knew something was wrong." He looked fearful. "Ellander's curfew starts at nine."

"Or maybe he stayed the night at his friend's place," Roy speculated. "He's eighteen. He's come of age. It's normal to stay the night somewhere else."

"I asked his friends, but none of them saw him." Huckle looked worried. "I even bribed the patrols so they'd help me. They told me they saw him going out that day, but he never came back."

"Ellander receives a lot of people every day, so maybe the guards missed him."

"No, no," Huckle denied it. "I have proof. I saw his fishing rod at the riverside. There's a red cloth on it. It's Emti, his beloved rod. He's been using it for ten years. That's the only thing I found."

Roy asked, "Did you find anything else? Blood, handkerchief, or anything that he brings with him?"

"I got some old-timers to look around last night, but we got nothing." Huckle was getting frustrated. "That's why I posted that request. Have you ever run into something similar, Roy?" Huckle was going to panic. He wanted to use an honorary title for Roy, but he was too young for Huckle to do so. "Do you think my son is still alive?"

"I can't be sure about that, since I don't have enough information for now," Roy answered calmly. "What about the knights? They should be responsible for you guys, no?"

Huckle spat indignantly. "The order is only loyal to the king. Their job is to protect the king and his family, not peasants like us. They put me on the waiting list. Said they'd only help after they're done with the problems in the city." Huckle had beef with the knights. "The bread would have gone moldy by then. My poor Berschel's going to end up dead, or worse." Huckle shivered. The thought of his son being dead tortured him.

"I see. That's how nobles are." Roy shared Huckle's sentiment, since he felt disgust toward Tailles. He tapped the chair's armrest and asked, "Does Berschel have any enemies?"

Huckle denied it fervently. "Impossible! He spends most of his time in the bakery with me. All he does is help out with the mice problem and housekeeping. He never complains and is always happy. There's no way he'd have beef with anyone. I'd know if he got into trouble with someone in the city. Even if he did have an enemy that I didn't know about, there'd be no reason for them to kill him."

"Very well. Let's assume he went missing at the riverbank, then." Roy stood up and strapped his weapons to his back. "Let's take a look at the crime scene."

Chapter 100

Roy and Huckle went to Wigan, south of Ellander. The boy hunkered down on a gigantic boulder jutting out on the riverbank and brushed his finger across a pebble. He looked at the gleaming river before shifting his gaze toward the rustling bamboo forest standing on the other side.

Wigan flowed toward the south, merging with Ismena after the sewers ahead. To the north, Wigan merged with Pontar. The river was less than twenty feet wide and gleamed green because of the algae and microorganisms in it. Roy couldn't even see the bottom.

"Do you see anything, Roy?" Huckle was wearing some shabby clothes. He was holding a rickety fishing rod, looking nervous. "Any clues?"

"Calm down. We just got here. I need more time." Roy dusted his hands off and looked around. "This is the boulder Berschel sat on whenever he fished here?"

"Yes." Huckle nodded. "I came with him many times, and he never changed spots. Berschel's an honest kid, so he doesn't change once he's made a decision."

"Did you also find Emti on this boulder, then?"

"Yes." Huckle stabbed the fishing rod into a hole below the boulder. It was an easy spot to fish. "I found it right here."

Roy could imagine Berschel enjoying the breeze on the boulder as he fished before disaster had struck. "Let's search the place."

"But my friends and I did that yesterday, and we found nothing." Huckle shook his head. "It's useless."

"If you want to save your son, then you'll do as I say," Roy commanded. "If you find any scales, I want you to give them to me."

"Scales?" Huckle was confused. "I need you to look for my son, not fish! If you're craving fish, I can give you one for free. Grilled, stewed, doesn't matter! Heck, I'll even throw in a loaf of bread!"

"You know nothing!" Roy shook his head. He didn't want to tell Huckle what he had in mind, but he had no choice. "Drowners have scales too, but it's different. Their scales are harder and heavier than any fish's scales, and there's a protrusion in the middle of it. Also, you can smell the stench of rotting flesh if you see one."

Huckle paled. Everyone who lived near a river knew there could be drowners lurking in the waters. If anyone were to be attacked by them, their chances of survival were slim. Huckle didn't want to believe it, so he retorted, "But Berschel's been fishing for eight years! There's no drowner here!"

"Everything's changing. There might not have been any drowners in the past, but there are no guarantees now. Your son might be torn apart as we speak!"

"Oh no. I'll search the place!" Only humans or drowners could have taken someone away at a riverbank. If they could find any traces or the scales of drowners, then Berschel was probably taken by drowners.

Roy was no longer the weakling he'd been. He had Dancing Stars and Dragon's Dreams in his inventory, as well as a crossbow that could fire in quick succession. He could take the drowners on as long as they didn't gang up on him.

However, he didn't get to fight them. After searching the riverbank for an hour, Roy found nothing. There were scales, but all of them belonged to the fish in the river. There were no drowners or any torn clothes in the river. Since monsters always left traces wherever they went, Roy was sure the river was free of drowners.

On the other hand, Huckle heaved a sigh of relief. If there were no drowners around, that meant his son could still be alive. But if it's not monsters, then why did he go missing?

"Did you find the rod here?" Roy gave it some thought. "That means he was taken away when he was fishing." There wasn't any cover at the riverbank, so ambushing Berschel on the rock was unlikely. Roy looked back at the dense bushes not far from them. It was a remote place, so if the culprit ambushed Berschel from the bushes, they could've covered their tracks and saved a lot of time.

"Did you search the bushes yesterday?"

"Yes." Huckle hesitated for a moment. "But not thoroughly, since I had to post the request this morning. I was going to come this afternoon."

"I see." They spent half an hour going through every single bush. Thanks to his perception, Roy picked up a faint scent of urine from a shrub. Ah, that's a clue. "Huckle, does anyone else fish in this river? Any women who wash their clothes here?"

"No, as far as I'm concerned." Huckle shook his head. "They live in the north, near the temple. The swamp is in the south, so nobody ever goes there. Only Berschel comes here, most of the time."

So Berschel probably peed here. Or Huckle's friends. Roy looked in the direction of the scent and expanded his range. He parted every shrub with his hand and checked the ground. Thanks to his hard work, Roy finally found some dried blood an hour later. It seemed the blood had been splattered instead of bled out naturally. It was as if something caused it to spurt.

He knew how the blood of nekkers, drowners, leshens, and humans smelled like. Even though he wasn't as strong as a witcher, he was slightly confident that it was human blood. And probably spilled around three days ago or less. That's when Berschel vanished. This must be a clue.

"Did you find something, Roy?" Huckle parted a shrub and hunkered down beside Roy. He looked to where the boy was touching and saw the blood, much to his shock. "B-blood? I-is my son dead?"

"Calm down," Roy told him without even turning around. "We don't know whose blood this is yet." But he was sure Berschel was attacked by something when he peed in the bush. That something was too fast for Berschel to defend against.

"Come with me." They followed the trail of the blood and noticed a blob of white that was cotton-like. Roy picked it up to take a whiff, but it was odorless. He pushed it together and pulled back, and the ball turned into sticky strings.

"This is mixed in with the blood. What is this, anyway?" Roy had a feeling the ball of sticky item was a clue to what the culprit was. Is it a monster? Can't really remember which monster produces this.

They kept following the trail of blood. Roy and Huckle noticed some dried blood after covering some distance. The trail led them deeper into the forest, and eventually, the trail became thinner and thinner.

Finally, they stopped at a clearing in the far east of Ellander, where shrubs grew wild. The faint scent of flowers wafted across the air, while turnips surrounded them. There wasn't anyone around, so the turnips weren't taken. Roy and Huckle looked ahead and noticed a deep hole in the field ahead of them.