Following the trail of blood on the grass, Allen led the group ahead. He glanced at Fred, who kept startling at Danthe's dramatic retelling, and a thorned vine flashed through his mind. He lowered his head in thought.
He hadn't seen when that vine had sprouted from the ground, but he remembered one thing very clearly—
After the Leshen's identity was exposed, it had only used spells to summon wolves and crows. Yet at that time, controlling plants would have been its best move.
Whether to drive away Allen, Vesemir, and Danthe, or to use Fred as a hostage and threaten them—it would have completely reversed the situation, forcing their hand.
The Leshen wasn't some mindless beast. On the contrary, it was intelligent.
So Allen didn't believe the Leshen hadn't thought of that. It could only mean—it couldn't do it.
Plant manipulation either required a large amount of magic from the host—which Fred couldn't provide—so the spell couldn't take shape, or it needed hand gestures to cast, which weren't possible because Vesemir and Danthe had bound Fred's hands and feet.
But the first option didn't make sense.
Because the magical energy used to summon a wolf pack from 700–800 meters away far exceeded the energy it would have taken to control plants during the fight.
That meant that although the Leshen possessed Fred, its source of magic came from somewhere else.
"Then it must be the second reason," Allen concluded.
Which was actually quite normal. Most sorcerer spells required a combination of incantations and gestures.
The incantations resonate with the elements in the environment, while the gestures guide the magic and assist with aiming the spell.
Therefore—
That vine couldn't have been released during the Leshen's final struggle.
If the Leshen had released it, it definitely wouldn't have been that comically tiny. And it also couldn't have been cast after the Leshen was blasted by the holy light from the talisman.
Because there was no doubt—the Leshen was dead.
The system's notification sound had chimed the instant Allen used primordial magic to activate the talisman.
"Was it when Fred woke up… a reflexive, instinctual defense response that controlled the plant?"
Allen began to form a hypothesis: "Maybe the Leshen's possession left something behind. Something that triggered a mutation in Fred—whose genes were already unstable due to the recent decoction treatment—and now, compared to ordinary witchers, he's even more unstable…"
Even though Allen hadn't spent experience points to unlock Gene Mutation Theory, he had studied it for several months under a specialist warlock at Ban Ard, according to his memories.
He hadn't gotten to the point of hands-on experimentation, but he understood the basic concepts.
Besides, witchers—the ultimate product of gene mutation science—were a frequent subject in those lectures. The warlocks had explained plenty of related topics in simple terms.
"This is very possible."
"Isn't Ivar Evil-Eye's 'Evil Eye' mutation a similar case? The very existence of a higher success rate in second-phase mutations compared to the Trial of Grasses proves that witchers' genes are inherently unstable."
Which, of course, was a good thing…
Allen thought.
If this had happened to an ordinary witcher, it would have been a minor incident—perhaps leaving a mental scar at most.
After all, a normal witcher's attribute growth was slow. The 'Mystery' stat, which governs magic control and spell strength, would take ages to grow. By the time they even noticed a power like plant control, their body's instincts might have long since forgotten it.
But Fred was different. Fred had Allen.
Once things settled, Allen could help him hunt more monsters with refined fluids that enhanced the 'Mystery' stat, to develop this ability.
Wait a second—
Plant control… nature…
Maybe he wouldn't even need to go that far. If it's all tied to nature, then Beast Roar might actually suit Fred even better…
Yes!
Add it to the schedule!
Allen was getting excited. The squad-classification system he had been planning—based on individual strengths—now had a real chance of working. And it was all thanks to the Fred he hadn't seen in half a year.
Of course, whether Fred truly possessed this ability still needed to be tested.
As for how to test it...
"Hm… yet another reason to unlock and upgrade Gene Mutation Theory…" Allen thought to himself.
At that moment, Danthe was passionately recounting Allen's heroic deeds—how he summoned a massive griffin, slew the Leshen's physical body with just three sword strikes, saw through the Leshen's plot despite opposition (though Danthe was actually the only one who objected), and activated the personal talisman gifted by the Archpriestess of the Melitele Temple to completely annihilate the Leshen…
Listening to it, Fred's blood was boiling with excitement, completely unaware that his future class change—no, his development path—had just been neatly decided by Allen in a matter of moments.
Fred continued to gaze at Allen, eyes shining with awe and disbelief, as if he were staring up at the towering Blue Mountains behind the ancient sea fortress.
Having concluded that the Leshen's influence on Fred had been beneficial rather than harmful, Allen decided not to dwell on it any further.
He turned his attention to the bloodied trail ahead, which was gradually shifting from chaotic to orderly, and let out a breath of relief.
Behind him, Fred was still asking about the details of the battle, with the other witchers occasionally chiming in. Allen shifted his focus and opened the Witcher's Bestiary.
Ding!
[Monster Group "Leshen" LV ? — Vanquished!]
[Reward Settlement: …]
[Final Rating: D+ (Loot Locked)]
[Loot Acquired: Leshen Element ×1, Experience Pearls ×4, Leshen Chest ×2, Wolf Chest ×2, Raven Chest ×2]
[Battle Points Earned: 10,670]
"Hm?"
At first glance, Allen immediately noticed the conspicuous question mark next to the Leshen's level.
He was puzzled—what had the Leshen done to warrant a level denoted by a question mark?
After all, the last time he saw such a rating, it was for the evil god in the Mahakam Valley that was trying to descend into the world.
The Leshen might be formidable, but compared to that giant-eyed abomination whose mere gaze could shake Allen's mind, it was far from being in the same league.
And not even to speak of evil gods—
Demonic summoning rituals, monster nests—weren't all of those stronger or more unusual than the Leshen?
Even the Scurver wasn't much weaker in terms of raw power.
By Allen's original estimate, this Leshen would've been, at most, level 85—at best.
He had only been checking the reward screen out of habit, but now his attention sharpened as he continued reading.
Thanks to the Level 2 Loot Lock skill, the final rating was bumped up slightly. Getting one extra Experience Pearl wasn't particularly noteworthy. But then…
"Element…" Allen muttered to himself. "The Leshen's drop wasn't Heart Essence or Purifying Spirit, but an Element—the same kind of item that dropped from the evil god…"
"Could the Leshen… really be some sort of god?"
And that wasn't all…
Allen's gaze shifted to the final reward section—Battle Points.
The Leshen alone had contributed 10,000 Battle Points to the Witcher Corps, the single biggest amount since the Witcher's Bestiary system had been activated.
With the Corps Skill "Teach" at Level 2, that amount could be doubled—translating into a staggering 20,000 experience points.
That was enough to upgrade eight Level 3 skills to Level 4, unlocking new effects.
The Witcher Corps was about to undergo a major boost.
"Skills above Level 3 need to be chosen carefully now… no more blanket upgrading…"
"And Hughes, Bond, and Fred… I can't let them fall behind ei—"
"Hm?"
Allen's train of thought was suddenly cut off. With a startled sound, he stopped in his tracks.
"What is it, Allen?" Vesemir asked.
Allen frowned as he looked at the blood-red footprints on the ground that had abruptly stopped. "Bond's trail ends here…"
"Right here?" Vesemir glanced around.
The group had already traveled far south and arrived at a forest clearing.
Judging by the slightly sunken terrain in the center and the sparse vegetation, this place was likely once a small stream—perhaps a tributary of the Duppa River.
The riverbed had long since dried up. Brambles and decaying branches were scattered across it, with no signs of a struggle.
There were no nearby caves or places to hide. The soft murmuring of the Duppa River under the night sky could be heard, but it wasn't close—certainly not within leaping distance.
Bond's trail could've disappeared anywhere else, but definitely not here.
"Wait!"
Allen motioned for Vesemir to stay quiet, focusing his gaze on the final red footprint.
The red glow forming the print began to swirl and rise, turning into tiny scarlet specks of light.
The specks assembled into a pair of legs from the waist down—Bond's legs.
A few seconds passed.
The legs walked forward from the previous footprint, then suddenly stopped as if encountering something. But the knees didn't bend, which meant Hughes hadn't crouched down or gone on alert.
In fact, he even rose slightly on his toes, as though trying to make himself taller—easier to be seen. After a moment, his left foot pivoted outward 90 degrees on its heel, with the toes roughly pointing back in the direction they had come from.
"Bond ran into someone here," Allen said, frowning. "It must've been someone he knew. He even tried to call them to help save Master Danthe, Hughes, and Fred…"
Danthe, who had leaned in to listen, sighed in relief upon hearing that Bond had encountered an acquaintance.
He looked down at the ground, which was pitch black, unable to tell if the faint markings were from the wind or passing beasts.
Even with his brown feline pupils widened to the limit, he couldn't make out any sign of a "familiar person encounter."
He turned to glance at Vesemir.
Vesemir was also looking down, equally puzzled, which made him feel a little better.
But then he raised an eyebrow. Danthe remembered that Vesemir had just said that Allen had taught him all about tracking, so why now did Vesemir seem just as unable to see any traces?
"Was it the client? Well, at least they were rescued," Vesemir said, also relieved, unaware of Danthe's suspicious glance. He brushed dust off the ground and turned back to Danthe. "By the way, I wanted to ask—why did you bring Hughes, Bond, and Fred out to this godforsaken wilderness, and end up facing the Leshen?"
"You took a contract for the Leshen? That's unlike your usual style."
"I did take a contract, in a town called Montecalvo, northeast of Tretogor," Danthe said. "But back then, the commission we received from the local nobles was to exterminate some small Foglets."
"It's said that recently, at the end of the Duppa River, the noble's hunters and the prison guards from Dragon City were bewitched by three Foglets and attacked multiple times, suffering heavy casualties."
No wonder the place they were attacked was closer to the Modian River, yet Hughes mentioned the Duppa River... Allen thought.
Danthe paused and glanced at Fred, who immediately lowered his head.
But Danthe only casually glanced and then looked away, continuing: "For half a year we've been clearing out drowners with Hughes and the others. I thought killing some Foglets would be a change of pace… but I didn't expect…"
He sighed, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Allen and Vesemir exchanged looks.
They both noticed Fred's expression and guessed that Danthe's taking on this contract was closely related to their three traveling apprentices.
But who could blame anyone?
If it were him, after clearing drowners for half a year, he'd be sick of them too.
Besides, if it was really just three Foglets, Danthe with Hughes, Bond, and Fred would be more than enough.
Unfortunately, no one knew there was a Leshen hiding here—an "ancient" one that could teleport.
No one was to blame—just really bad luck for the four witchers Danthe, Hughes, Bond, and Fred.
"But Foglets are quite different from the Leshen," Vesemir said, looking up thoughtfully. "When we first entered that oak forest, both my and Allen's school badges immediately gave off warnings. Also, Foglets always have fog around their activity area—whereas the Leshen doesn't…"
Fred looked up and said, "Master Vesemir, it was us…"
"In the early morning, the forest was filled with thick fog," Danthe waved his hand, cutting off Fred and sighed. "Of course, it was also my fault. This place is too close to Drakenborg. You know how Drakenborg is—not a place to linger."
"So before noon, when the fog completely cleared, we left Montecalvo while the fog was still thick, thinking that by the time we reached the Foglets' activity area, the morning fog would have just lifted. Besides…"
"The Foglets' activity area naturally has fog anyway. Whether we leave when the fog is thick or when it's cleared, it doesn't make much difference."
"Who would have thought we would run straight into the Leshen's territory…"
Danthe sighed again, his expression darkening.
"I should have been more cautious. If I had, none of this would have happened…"
"Master Danthe…" Fred stepped forward and offered some comforting words.
Foglets… Allen kept chewing over the monster's name, feeling something was off.
"Wait…" he suddenly asked, "You left from Montecalvo, so you actually never reached the end of the Duppa River before encountering the Leshen?"
"That's right," Danthe nodded.
"But we," Allen glanced at Vesemir, "we were right at the end of the Duppa River when we called down the royal griffin, and there wasn't a single Foglet there."
Vesemir furrowed his brows slightly, recalling the surroundings at their landing.
Danthe was silent for a few seconds. "Maybe they were scared off by the griffin's pressure?"
Allen was about to say something when the red light points forming Hughes' legs made a new movement, interrupting him.
Those legs suddenly went weak, wobbling a few times, then collapsed limp.
But before they could fall, someone caught them.
Then,
The red light points of the trace abruptly shattered and transformed back into footprints.
"Damn it!"
Allen froze, his expression suddenly darkening.
This definitely didn't look like Hughes was being properly received by acquaintances!
.......
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