The Idr Giant Centipede

"Hey, fellas, could you tell me about what you were just discussing?" Geralt took out a bottle of wine he had swiped from Ban Ard and walked over, pouring each of the two drunks a cup.

Worried that he might frighten the two drunks away and cause a commotion, Witt stayed where he was.

"A witcher?" The drunks looked at Geralt with impatient disgust, but for the wine's sake, they let him sit down.

"What do you want to know, witcher?"

"What you were just talking about. The monster in the sewers," Geralt repeated.

"Then you've asked the right man." The knowledgeable drunk discreetly poured himself another cup of wine and began slowly, "That monster-my older brother saw it with his own eyes. He just told me about it a few days ago!"

"Oh? What did you hear?" Geralt asked curiously.

An expression of utter terror appeared on the drunk's face, and cold sweat kept beading on his forehead, as though even recalling someone else's words filled him with dread.

He gulped down the wine in his cup and said shakily, "That night, my brother said he got drunk at the Iron Rat Gang's tavern and collapsed in the hay in the stable by the entrance..."

"Then what?" the other drunk asked curiously too.

"Don't interrupt! Then he said he didn't know how much time had passed before he heard this rapid 'clack-clack-clack...' in his sleep. By then, he'd sobered up considerably, so he pushed aside the pile of hay covering him. Guess what he saw?"

"What did he see?!" the drunk pressed.

"First, he saw a segmented, armored body moving rapidly, like a centipede magnified tens of thousands of times. That sound came from the giant centipede's countless legs striking the ground."

"Then what? Wasn't he scared?"

"Of course he was! But he didn't dare make a sound, afraid the centipede would notice him. Guess what happened next?"

"What happened?"

"He saw that the monster actually had a man's face on its head!" As he spoke, the storyteller suddenly leaned toward his drinking companion, thrusting his face close.

Smack! "Why the hell are you scaring me?!" The drunk slapped the storyteller to the ground.

"You dare hit me?!"

"You scared me first!" The two rolled onto the ground and started wrestling.

Geralt discreetly slipped away and returned to Witt's side.

"Do you think their story holds up?" Witt did not quite believe the drunken ramblings of two drunks.

"It's mostly correct. That giant centipede should be an Idr Giant Centipede, a monster created by Idarran. It has a human face, likes living in dark, damp, filthy places, and feeds on humans."

Witt nodded. He trusted Geralt's judgment, but still had some questions. "If it's a monster that specifically feeds on humans, why have reports only started spreading recently? Could they possess human intelligence too? Do they know how to seek advantages and avoid danger?"

"They aren't particularly intelligent. At least, the few I've slaughtered weren't." Geralt loathed this kind of monster and had actively sought them out and hunted them more than once.

"Witt, you know that elves once ruled this continent, right?"

"Of course I do. Even most human cities today were built on the ruins of elven cities. Could that monster have been hiding in the elven ruins beneath Ard Carraigh before? But however large those ruins are, they're still empty. Where would it find food?"

"Everything you said is correct, but you've overlooked one thing," Geralt said slowly.

"The portals in the elven ruins? Do they still work?"

"The monster must have wandered into a portal and been transported beneath Ard Carraigh. Idr Giant Centipedes are monsters driven solely by savage animal instincts. They cannot reproduce, and all their actions revolve around food. The larger an Idr Giant Centipede is, the more food it consumes each day, so there's no possibility that it sneaked in through an underground river..."

Geralt looked around at the villagers chatting and laughing, then continued, "If it really had entered Ard Carraigh through an underground river, it would have eaten everyone in this village, leaving no one alive. Wherever they go, bloodshed follows."

"Looks like we'll have to destroy this monster regardless."

"This monster actually isn't hard to deal with. With the right approach, they're not even as dangerous as Old Speartip." Geralt looked at Witt.

"So?" Witt understood what Geralt meant. "This is my advancement trial?"

"Exactly."

"All right, all right. I hope that monster really is just as you said, Geralt-not even as dangerous as Old Speartip."

Geralt smiled at those words.

A little while later, the two finished dinner and returned to their respective rooms to rest, planning to enter Ard Carraigh the next morning.

Early the next morning, after exercising and giving both swords some basic maintenance with sword oil, Witt woke Geralt, who was still sound asleep. He could hardly wait to complete his advancement trial.

But what Witt had not expected was that the obstacle in his path would not be the bloodthirsty, savage Idr Giant Centipede, but the guards at Ard Carraigh's gates.

"How many times do I have to tell you? My companion and I are here to help you deal with the monster in the sewers. And we're witchers, not spies." Even the normally even-tempered Witt could not help growing angry after the guard repeatedly gave them trouble.

But the fat guard sitting beneath the city wall, his face heavy with flesh, remained as arrogant as ever. "I've told you plenty of times too. These are His Majesty's orders. Unauthorized persons are strictly forbidden from entering Ard Carraigh." His tone was full of contempt.

"That monster is still eating people. Don't you understand?"

The fat guard spat and said indifferently, "It's eating people in the slums. What do their lives have to do with us? If they like relying on the Iron Rat Gang, let the Iron Rat Gang deal with the monster."

The other soldiers nearby had long since grown used to such scenes. Even those among them who came from the slums dared not voice their anger, only cursing inwardly, Damn you, Frank!

That was because Frank, the guard captain, was the bastard son of a noble in the inner city. Had he been an ordinary bastard, those nobles who thought so highly of themselves would have liked nothing better than to drown him in infancy.

But as ill luck would have it, he was the elderly noble's only male child, which granted him certain privileges. Even his position as a guard had come from that old bastard of a father.

"You..."

Geralt interrupted the words on the tip of Witt's tongue with a pat on his shoulder. "Let's go, Witt. We'll try somewhere else. We've got plenty of time. There's no rush."

Witt glanced at Frank, then said nothing more and prepared to turn away.

"Pah! Witchers? Nothing but mutant freaks begging for scraps. How are you any different from those inferior wretches in the city? Even without the king's ban, I wouldn't let you into the city!"

Frank's eyes shifted as he suddenly remembered what he had heard in the inner city about spies infiltrating Ban Ard and setting fires. Staring at the witchers' retreating backs, he had a flash of inspiration.

Weren't these two witchers with no backing an opportunity for merit delivered right to his doorstep?

"Hey! Witchers! Wait!" Frank hurriedly shouted.

But Witt and Geralt, already sick of dealing with Frank, kept walking without looking back, as though they had not heard him.

"Damn mutant freaks!"

Seeing those he considered inferior dare to show him such disrespect, Frank flew into a rage. His round, fat belly heaved, and his face flushed crimson.

"Guards! Seize those two witchers! I suspect they're spies sent by another country. They're the ones behind the arson in Ban Ard!"

The passing commoners of Ard Carraigh hurried away, not even daring to watch the spectacle, afraid that Frank, that "potbellied fat pig," would set his sights on them and bring undeserved disaster upon them.

A squad of city guards quickly surrounded Witt and Geralt. Though reluctance was written all over their faces, they still dared not go easy on them, because they could not bear the consequences of failure.

They only hoped the two witchers would not resist and would let themselves be captured. That would be best for everyone.

After all, even in their eyes, Witt and Geralt were merely two witchers who did not even count as human.