Adventure

For two days, he was half-conscious, half-awake. On the morning of the third day, Roy's fever broke, and he regained consciousness. The old couple who had been taking care of him breathed a heavy sigh of relief. They had been filled with dread these past few nights, especially seeing One-Eyed Jack and the Night Watchman return covered in blood and wounded, fearing they would lose the child again.

Aunt Susie sat by his straw mat, holding his hand tightly. Her slightly swollen face was full of affection.

"We've heard about the graveyard from Thompson, Aunt Susie. It was Fletcher's family's fate... I believe they will be reunited in Goddess Melitele's realm... You did your best, child. Don't overthink things or try to approach that monster. Just rest in bed and recover. What would Old Mol and I do if you were gone?!"

Roy looked at his parents' concerned eyes and aged faces, a hint of guilt stirring in his heart.

He remembered how, in his semi-conscious state, the old couple had taken turns by his side, feeding him mashed food from time to time. They probably hadn't slept much these past two days.

But he couldn't help it... The Northern Wars hadn't even begun, yet a terrifying graveyard monster had suddenly appeared, posing a deadly threat.

This wretched world.

With natural disasters and man-made calamities, unknown threats wouldn't give him time to develop slowly. He had to actively seek growth.

He never wanted to experience that profound sense of powerlessness from yesterday again.

"Dad, what did the village decide?"

"The village chief took a carriage to town the day before yesterday to ask the Lord for help..." Old Mol's tone was full of uncertainty. The three of them knew in their hearts that the Lord of Xiabosada wasn't a benevolent man. It was quite normal for a few people to die in such a remote village. The Lord's soldiers were only enthusiastic when collecting taxes; they'd surely run faster than anyone when dealing with monsters. Kaye Village would, at most, send someone to ask a few perfunctory questions.

"Someone who went with him posted a notice on the town's bulletin board, waiting for a Witcher to accept the commission. It'll take a month or two, and there will be news... Don't you worry about it."

Roy sighed, still feeling very uneasy.

He had been lying in bed for two days, feeling completely rusty. He wanted to go out for a walk and see Old Jack at the tavern. But due to his parents' strong insistence, he didn't get out of bed until noon.

A strange atmosphere permeated the village. Only a few people hurried through the streets, their brows etched with worry and fear. The usual greetings by the roadside had vanished, and the fields outside the village were devoid of hardworking farmers.

Most villagers hid in their homes, nervously peering out their windows, unsure if the graveyard monster would come to the village to abduct people. All daily activities had been halted.

Occasionally, the sound of a child crying or a couple arguing would drift from a house, adding to the ominous feeling.

The bulletin board in the center of the village, once covered in cobwebs and long unused, had been cleaned and a new commission posted. Unfortunately, Roy couldn't recognize many Common Script characters.

When he arrived at the tavern, Jack was sitting alone by the bar, lost in thought.

The old man's waist wound was bandaged in clean white gauze. He smelled strongly of herbs, his face was weary, his eyes bloodshot, and his spirits were low. Losing his friend Pusig, who had followed him for decades, overnight had aged him considerably. His beard and hair were now a startling white, and his one eye had lost its usual sparkle.

"You're here, child. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I'm completely recovered." Roy sat beside him, falling silent. He didn't know what to say; he had been a deserter that night.

"Keep me company for a drink," a flicker of pain crossed Old Jack's face. He poured two glasses of wine, not the sweet fruit wine, but one with a pungent alcoholic aroma. "My old pal is gone. There's no one left in Kaye Village to drink Dwarven spirit and play Gwent with me..."

"To Pusig!" Roy's heart trembled. He abruptly raised his glass and downed it in one gulp. The strong, burning spirit ignited a fire in his chest, and he made a decision.

"Another glass, to Fletcher..." Roy took a deep breath, paused, "and to the little snot-nose."

After he had drunk himself red-faced in a fit of emotion, Old Jack stopped him. They talked about the situation over the past few days.

The village had sent people to the barracks in Xiabosada to request help, but as Roy had expected, they were refused. Unless there was a large-scale monster infestation or bandit invasion, the army wouldn't mobilize.

There was also something Old Mol and his wife hadn't told Roy: four people had died in Kaye.

Besides Fletcher the butcher and his son, and Pusig the blacksmith, another villager had gone missing these past two days. This hothead, perhaps wanting to die, had gone to the graveyard alone in the evening and never returned.

Ordinary people stood no chance against that thing; they'd only be brutally slaughtered.

Roy listened, wanting to say something but stopping himself. He glanced at Old Jack's miserable state and swallowed his words before leaving the tavern.

In fact, as a player who had indulged in games, he had researched various monsters brought by the Conjunction of Spheres. Recalling it now, he was ninety percent certain that the monster lurking in the graveyard was a bloodthirsty creature called a Grave Witch. They liked to use their long tongues, like hidden weapons, to suck the marrow from corpses. If they ran out of corpses, some particularly vicious individuals would hunt in human settlements, burying their captured live prey underground to rot before consuming them.

More importantly, he also knew its weakness.

Grave Witches usually settled near graveyards, just like this one had directly occupied the gravekeeper Gonger's house. But they had a significant weakness—they feared sunlight, and their combat effectiveness was greatly reduced during the day.

But even if he told the villagers, would they believe him? And how would he explain the source of his information?

Without gathering a dozen people, even a weakened Grave Witch would still be a formidable opponent.

With the blacksmith and the butcher sacrificed, and no close relatives left to inherit their property in the village (Aunt Susie's distant relative didn't count).

Their remaining assets were temporarily managed by the village chief. Once their deaths were confirmed, Roy believed that some of it would likely be embezzled, some would be given to the Lord of Xiabosada by the soldiers, and the rest would be used as payment to hire a Witcher. A hundred crowns?

The money and valuables from both families were taken by the village chief for safekeeping, but other things remained in their houses.

Roy sneaked into the blacksmith's house and conducted a thorough sweep. He hid over fifty Crossbow Bolts, a semi-new Steel Sword, torches, oil, and several sturdy hemp ropes in his Storage Space.

From the butcher's house, he took tens of pounds of preserved raw meat. In his Storage Space, all items were in a state of stasis; food and raw meat, for example, would never spoil.

He also found, as he had hoped, a bag of yellow powder about the size of his fist in the wardrobe. Fletcher usually used this powder to tranquilize animals. A dose the size of a fingernail mixed with water could incapacitate a two-hundred-pound livestock animal within minutes.

This powder was the core of his plan.

His Storage Space was packed to the brim.

Finally, Roy took the short knife that the butcher had used for over ten years and with which he had killed countless animals.

The knife was about the length of his forearm, boat-shaped, with a sharp, snow-white blade. The body and spine of the blade were dark brown, stained by years of accumulated animal blood. No matter how much it was washed, it carried an indelible scent of blood.

"Uncle Fletcher, little snot-nose, Uncle Blacksmith, if I get the chance," Roy swore in his heart, "I will use this knife to avenge you and take that bastard's head!"

The battles with the wolf pack and the Grave Witch had changed his perspective. He now realized more profoundly that his current location was no longer the peaceful world of the past. Trying to find peace by hiding and evading would only lead to the opposite result.

Having lost the steady source of Experience from being the butcher's apprentice, Roy decided to find a faster way and take some risks.

The graveyard was located to the east of Kaye Village. The four dead villagers were enough to feed the Grave Witch inside for a while, meaning she wouldn't likely leave the graveyard to hunt during this period.

However, to be safe, Roy decided to set his next plan in motion in the woods to the west of Kaye Village, less than a mile away, far from the graveyard.

During the day, he scouted the woods, surveyed the environment, found a suitable large tree, and made ample preparations.

At night, while Old Mol and his wife slept soundly, he tiptoed out of the house. He waited for the patrolling Night Watchmen to move to the other side of the village before secretly leaving and heading to the large tree he had scouted during the day.

Then, he tied several pieces of raw meat, smeared with anesthetic powder, to the tree. He deliberately made the meat look bloody and smell foul to better attract his target.

After finishing this, Roy quickly climbed the tree, lit the torch tied to a branch, took out Gabriel, loaded an arrow, closed his eyes, and waited quietly...

Throughout the entire process, Roy kept taking deep breaths, fearing he might attract something terrifying, but also worried it would be a futile effort with no beasts taking the bait.

But there was no turning back once the arrow was loosed.

The bright moonlight filtered through the gaps in the forest, casting dappled light on a young, resolute face.

Roy pursed his lips, slowed his breathing, and waited nervously for about an hour. When he heard dog barks in the distance, he knew he had succeeded.

Five or six starving wild dogs with red eyes emerged from the bushes, frantically snatching at the raw meat tied to the rope. They drooled profusely, leaving a mess of blood everywhere. Two of the dogs even started fighting each other over the food. After the meat was completely devoured, they bared their teeth, still covered in scraps of meat and blood, and barked ferociously at the person in the tree.

Roy's eyelids twitched. He suspected these grey-furred beasts were rabid, but he wasn't afraid.

"You curs, come up and bite me if you dare!" he shouted provocatively from the tree, looking down at the wild dogs. As he spoke, he pulled the trigger, shooting at the target below the tree... He had also coated the crossbow bolts with a potion, aiming for absolute certainty.

The shooting conditions were not much different from the last time when four people were protecting him. Roy had the absolute geographical advantage. After one real combat experience, his mindset had matured further, his hand holding the crossbow was steadier, and his aim was better. He sent two of the arrogant wild dogs to their deaths with three arrows.

When the remaining wild dogs realized something was wrong and tried to flee, the anesthetic inside them began to take effect. They collapsed limply after running only a few dozen feet.

Roy didn't rush down to collect his spoils. He straddled the tree and calmly fired arrow after arrow until three notifications of gaining Experience appeared in the template, confirming that all the stunned wild dogs were dead.

Level 1 (123/500)

"A total of 50 Experience points. Wild dogs and wolves are both 10 Experience points each. It's much faster than being a Butcher's apprentice. I only need to do this eight more times to level up." Roy looked at the wild dog corpses riddled with arrows, his heart feeling heavy.

Risk and reward were proportional; his dangerous actions had finally paid off.

He rested briefly in the tree again, confirmed there was no danger around, then got down to retrieve his arrowheads and tools. He dragged the wild dog carcasses to the hard, muddy ground nearby, piled them up, poured oil on them, and set them ablaze before turning back to the village.

The operation was smooth, with no major incidents. Roy even had time to wipe himself down with cool water, washing away the faint smell of blood.

For the next period, he went out hunting almost every night. At first, he could get a harvest once every three nights at most.

The animals that took the bait were varied: wild dogs, wolves, foxes, wild boars... Once, a colossal grizzly bear even appeared. It snatched the meat from the rope and charged back into the woods. Roy didn't dare to chase after it.

The Experience gained from these animals never exceeded 10 points. When he ran out of raw meat in his spatial storage, he would cut meat from his prey. As a Butcher's apprentice, he was quite skilled at this.

However, unfortunately, even though he changed locations after setting each trap, and even ventured into the woods north and south of the village, the frequency of animals taking the bait began to decrease uncontrollably after half a month.

He only encountered prey once every five days. Clearly, the animals in the woods had become wary.

His Experience gain slowed down again. It wasn't until one night, a month later, after shooting the last wild dog, that Roy finally accumulated enough Experience.