"Stag Head Spirit."
A creature born of the Conjunction of Spheres, it lived deep in the mountains and forests. It had wild animal companions that would answer its call without fail, and could control plants to aid it. Because of its distinctive appearance, ignorant country folk often made it the center of their faith, worshiping it and offering it sacrifices.
"I remember that in many folk tales, the Stag Head Spirit is a benevolent creature. It helps lost travelers find their way and saves victims from bandits." The knowledge Roy had gleaned from books was nowhere near as vivid as what a Witcher could teach him firsthand, so he asked as many questions as he could.
"Kid, you believe those ridiculous stories? In truth, the Stag Head Spirit slowly drains the vitality of every living thing gathered in its territory until they're nothing but empty husks."
"But this creature usually doesn't attack ordinary people unprovoked, does it?"
"Everything in this world has its good and bad sides. There are Stag Head Spirits that coexist peacefully with humans on the surface, but there's no shortage of those that see humans as sworn enemies." The Witcher's voice held a note of apprehension. "The Stag Head Spirit rampaging through Mahakam is old enough to deserve the title 'ancient.' It's almost certainly got an altar in the mountains to amplify its power. Starting tomorrow, I'll tear down the altars one by one and weaken it."
Roy grew uneasy. The creature seemed even stronger than he'd expected. "Are you sure you can do it? Ordinary steel weapons won't be much use against a Stag Head Spirit, will they?"
"I've got sword oils, bombs, and potions ready. The rest is up to fate." Letho's voice grew heavy. "If I don't make it back, leave Mahakam and