Chapter 84: The Vanished One
In the temporary camp, the campfire crackled.
The cook specially brought by Tyrion played a significant role.
He made the food fragrant and incredibly delicious.
The delicious food greatly improved everyone's mood.
Sitting around the campfire, Tyrion recalled the earlier scene and still couldn't help but shudder. "Madam, do you think that could have been caused by necromancy?"
Triss held a roasted chicken leg in her hand, very elegantly taking small bites.
Hearing the short merchant's words, she put down the chicken leg and wiped the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief.
"Necromancy is a forbidden art. Even skilled sorcerers cannot cast it casually, because once necromancy is released, it requires absorbing a large amount of magical power, which may cause irreparable damage."
"Aretuza Academy and Ban Ard Academy have also long since removed necromancy from their compulsory courses."
"Moreover, as far as I know, the effects caused by necromancy are not like that."
Aretuza Academy and Ban Ard Academy were renowned magical academies on the continent.
Comparable to the existence of Hogwarts.
Among them, Aretuza Academy only accepted female students.
While Ban Ard Academy only accepted male students.
Even the knowledgeable sorceress couldn't give a definite answer, and Tyrion's face grew increasingly grim.
"Earlier, I heard that in this land, the history of many forests is even older than that of the elves."
"Now I believe it. No wonder the Cidarian merchants didn't even put up a fight and just handed over the navigation rights of the Adalatte River to us."
Although he didn't say it out loud, judging from Tyrion's expression, the short merchant was now clearly somewhat regretting participating in this operation.
Marillian's expression was strange, and he opened his mouth several times, seemingly hesitating whether to speak.
In the end, he couldn't help but speak.
"Actually... when I was still at Oxenfurt Academy, I once heard a terrifying legend about the forest."
A caravan guard with a beard on his face said with obvious displeasure, "Hey, hey, isn't this the time to talk about this? Look at the place."
Another caravan guard, much younger, joked, "What does it matter? Tell us."
Some wanted to listen, and some didn't.
But on the whole, there were more people who wanted to listen.
So Marillian cleared his throat and said mysteriously,
"Legend has it that a long, long time ago, an ancient race came to this world through the Conjunction of the Spheres. This race was quite special; they needed to prey on intelligent beings everywhere, absorbing their souls to gain the energy to continue existing in reality."
"Any intelligent being devoured by them would disappear from this world."
The much younger caravan guard looked disappointed.
"Is that it? Isn't that obvious? If they've been eaten, they've disappeared from the world, haven't they?"
The bard strummed his lute and shook his head.
"No, it's not what you think. The devoured person doesn't just disappear physically, but truly disappears in every sense. All traces of their existence, their family, friends, and lovers will forget they ever existed."
"It's as if that person never existed in the first place."
The people sitting around the campfire looked at each other, some with sweat on their backs.
To cover up their inner fear and unease, people vied to refute.
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
"You say predation, killing, eating, I believe all that, but you say even traces of existence can be erased together, that's absolutely impossible!"
"Legends are mostly a mix of truth and falsehood. Didn't the legends also mention that witchers are heartless, tearless monsters..." Someone nearby immediately reminded him with displeasure and gestured with his eyes towards the silent witcher sitting by the campfire. "Hey!"
That person said loudly.
"What? I haven't finished yet... I mean, legends say witchers are heartless, tearless monsters, but today, everyone here owes their lives to the Witcher Master, which shows that legends aren't necessarily true."
He raised his cup. "To the Witcher Master!"
People also raised their cups in salute.
After a round of drinks, Sir Royce put down his cup and stood up.
"Gentlemen, I must go feed my beloved horse. The journey ahead is still long. Please excuse my early departure."
Triss said with a smile, "Does such a thing really require the esteemed Sir Knight to do it himself? Can't one of your men do it for you?"
Sir Royce gave Triss a knightly bow. "When it comes to caring for horses, besides myself, I only trust the two attendants who have always followed me."
"Unfortunately, I forgot to bring them this time. As for the other men, having them bravely fight enemies is one thing, but caring for horses is another."
After Sir Royce left, the atmosphere around the campfire became lively again.
But someone noticed that the witcher had remained silent.
"Master, why aren't you speaking?"
Lynn took a sip of clear water and said,
"Everyone, we are not out of danger yet. We still have at least a few days of walking before we can leave the forest. Who knows what dangers lie ahead waiting for us."
"Celebrating halfway through is a big taboo. Let's finish eating quickly, seize the time to rest, and try to travel as far as possible before nightfall."
The witcher's words silenced everyone.
But no one complained that the witcher couldn't read the atmosphere.
Because what Lynn said was the truth.
They hadn't even gotten through today yet.
To think that everything was fine was indeed a bit too premature.
So, no one spoke anymore afterwards.
Everyone just silently ate their lunch.
Having eaten his fill, Lynn left the campfire. He found a place nearby, sat on the ground, and entered a meditative state.
Triss also put down the wooden bowl in her hand.
But she didn't leave.
Instead, she sat by the campfire, absorbing magic from the flames.
She was allergic to potions containing magic, so she couldn't recover lost magic through magical potions.
Drawing magic from fire was one of the ways she could replenish her magic.
Seeing that the witcher and the sorceress had both started resting, the others also quickly finished eating and seized the time to rest.
After resting in place for an hour, the group set off again.
The formation was the same as before: Sir Royce and 4 soldiers walked at the front, 6 soldiers brought up the rear, protecting the witcher, the sorceress, and the 5 caravan guards in the middle.
The climate in the forest was unbearably hot, humid, and stifling, making it hard to breathe.
Everyone's mood had clearly become irritable.
The much younger caravan guard couldn't help but complain.
"If only there was a bard accompanying us, I'd be willing to pay for even the worst ballads."
I want to take a moment to express my gratitude to those who support me on this journey. Your contribution make a real difference!
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