162. A Bountiful Harvest.
"Damn it! Witchers from the Cat School are really a bunch of bastards."
Returning from the witcher's memory, Allen suddenly had a fierce look on his face and started gasping for breath. Just like the previous memory, this one was also closely related to the Cat School's double-handed sword. But unlike the repeated training of swordsmanship on a fine rope, year after year, this was a memory about killing.
Men, women, even the elderly and children. Many people died in this memory.
As a witcher, the Cat School scoundrel named Fradeca only killed four drowners and three ghouls in his lifetime. But countless humans died under his sword. Most of them, like the unfortunate Bond, had the muscles and tendons in their wrists and ankles cut open. Then, in the span of five minutes—Fradeca's favorite duration—they were bled out like livestock.
Helpless, terrified, panicked, angry, they died slowly under Fradeca's mocking and enjoying gaze, feeling the warmth of their blood, the loss of temperature on their skin, and the ebbing of their life, slipping away into death. As a normal person, just witnessing such a scene was already unbearable.
What was even more unbearable was the unbelievably realistic sensation from the "Witcher's Memory."
It was as if…
It was as if Allen had killed them himself.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"
Thinking of the little girl, who was only four or five years old, crying and wailing before he personally…
Allen's forehead veins bulged, and he couldn't help but curse out loud.
"Allen, what's wrong? Do you need help?"
Hughes from next door seemed to have heard his low growls.
"It's nothing, I'll be fine in a bit. You can go to Master Vesemir after you're done."
"Alright," Hughes replied.
After quickly covering up his loss of composure, Allen took a deep breath and exhaled a chestful of stale air, as if trying to expel all the pent-up feelings in his chest. After using the first "Witcher's Memory," Allen had felt pretty good, even a bit fortunate.
After all.
According to past rewards from hunts, such corporeal creatures generally have a heart essence elixir.
If he got a "Witcher's Heart Essence Elixir" instead of a memory, would he drink it or not?
But now.
Not only did he not have to "eat" people, but he could also fully experience different lives in a realistic way, unlocking new skills and improving his strength…
It was simply the perfect reward.
At that time, he didn't expect there would be such a big pitfall hidden within these memories.
"Sigh~" Allen sighed, "It seems that in the future, I'll need to screen these ruthless 'memories' before using them."
To shift his focus from the remaining inhumane fragments in his mind, Allen opened the inventory with a thought.
[Inventory: Purified Spirits of Wraiths8, Wraith's Treasure Box12, Witcher's Treasure Box*4…]
"Eight Purified Spirits of Wraths, twenty treasure boxes, today's harvest is quite plentiful!"
The joy of the harvest successfully distracted Allen.
He first used the Purification Spirits in batches.
"Whew!"
A refreshing chill soaked into his brain, and his senses became instantly clearer.
In the dim light, dust danced in the air.
Through the floorboards, he could faintly hear Vesemir downstairs bargaining with Bob and Mary over tonight's losses at the inn. Vesemir insisted on compensating, but the innkeeper and his wife were adamant about not accepting it.
Even though the master witcher kept explaining that the attackers were targeting them, the witchers from the Wolf School, not because of Viscount Hudson's castle cleaning commission.
Not only that.
There were also the chirping of spring insects outside the window, the wind blowing through the grass, and even the low chatter of villagers in nearby houses…
The multitude of sound information came to him, and with a thought, Allen made it all go quiet again. This was just a side effect of his suddenly enhanced attributes.
[Attributes: Strength 32, Agility 31, Constitution 31, Perception 25 (+4), Mystery 41]
His shortcoming in perception had once again improved.
"If it weren't for the ghost oil that let Vesemir have a killing spree today, the increase in perception could have been doubled."
Thinking about the thirty-four demon spirits today, and that he only managed to kill less than half of them…
Allen shook his head.
Don't think about it!
Don't think about it!
Thinking about it just makes your heart ache.
Shaking off the distracting thoughts in his mind, he pulled out Melitele's amulet from his chest and prayed sincerely.
[Ding! Wraith's Treasure Box*12 opened]
Six white lights, four blue lights, two purple lights.
But strangely, this time the purple-quality treasure box didn't trigger any animation.
A moment later.
All the lights disappeared, and a semi-transparent item list appeared in front of Allen.
[Ding! You received: Experience Pearl6, Wraith Essence2, Emerald Dust*4]
Alright.
So the purple quality item was Wraith Essence.
This material could be obtained by directly hunting wraiths in the game. As for its use…
Allen thought for a moment. It seemed that there was a potion that required it, but other uses were too long ago to remember clearly.
After all.
It had been nearly half a year since he crossed over.
"Forget it, I'll just store it in the inventory for now. Even if I think of other uses, it's useless without the recipe."
Allen sighed and moved his thoughts again.
[Ding! Witcher's Treasure Box*4 opened]
Blue, blue…
After two flashes of blue light, there was a blinding flash of gold.
A drop!
What will it be?
Potion, sword oil, item, or weapon?
Allen clenched his fist.
After the golden light disappeared, the warm inn room around him suddenly shifted to a snowfield covered in thick snow.
"Huh!"
As the scene changed, the young witcher shivered violently, feeling a cold far more intense than the winter at Fort Etnir. Moving slightly, his joints creaked as if his entire body was frozen.
What's going on?
Was the special effect of the gold-quality treasure box no longer satisfied with just visuals and sound?
Allen wasn't frightened by this anomaly; instead, his anticipation grew stronger.
Then.
A strong wind suddenly blew across the white snowfield, scattering large patches of snow and obscuring Allen's vision. When he looked again, there was nothing left in the center of the snowy field but a piece of parchment.
[Ding! You received: Experience Pearl2, "Northern Wind" Bomb Recipe, Small Experience Pearl1]
So it was Northern Wind!
So the freezing effect he just felt was what it's like to be truly hit by the Northern Wind bomb?
As Allen pondered, he opened the inventory with a thought.
[Name: Northern Wind]
[Type: Bomb Recipe]
[Crafting Requirements: Alchemy LV2]
[Recipe: Saltpeter1, Ducal Water1, Pearl Powder1, Allspice2]
[Function: Freezes enemies, attacking frozen enemies causes extra damage]
[Remark: Northern Wind! Northern Wind! Freeze everything!]
Northern Wind bomb.
An eternal god in the game.
Although the official bestiary in the game only showed that it causes vulnerabilities in a few monsters like the wraith and the swamp hag. However, due to its excellent freezing and ice damage boosting properties, it became a deadly weakness for most monsters through the players' ingenuity.
Especially in the early versions of the game, some players even developed a "Northern Wind Godfist" combo where...
One Northern Wind, a few punches, and the monster was instantly killed—a cheap tactic.
"I wonder if that bug combo has been fixed by the silly devs?"
In a daze, Allen reminisced about his past life. Unfortunately, This time, he didn't stay dazed for long. With heightened senses, the strong smell of iron in his nose constantly reminded the outsider of the dangerous world he was in. And of the crises that would await him in the future.
"Sigh~"
Allen followed the scent of iron and looked down. The decapitated Brett, with his murky cat-like eyes, was staring angrily at him. The young Witcher gazed at him for a moment, then sighed softly, as if something had come to mind.
----------------
The next day.
The herb shop at Orchard.
"Sorry, we have plenty of saltpeter here, but pearl powder and allspice..."
The middle-aged shopkeeper paused for a moment and said helplessly: "Pearl powder can indeed clear the eyes and relieve dizziness, but Ban Ard is very, very far from the sea, and the demand from the city's noble ladies for beauty products is high. The price is not something us country folk can afford."
"As for allspice, the fruit of this herb is a very expensive spice, so..."
The middle-aged man gave an awkward laugh, glanced at the two Witchers across from him, and didn't continue.
Allen sighed at these words. In this world, or rather, even in medieval Europe, spices could be used as a universal equivalent, like gold and silver, in global trade.
Similarly, Most spices in the Witcher world, just like in medieval Europe, came from distant foreign lands far from the Northern Continent. Thus, it was clear that one conclusion could be drawn.
Spices were generally very expensive! Extremely expensive!
Moreover, the shopkeeper even added the descriptor "very expensive."
The price of allspice might be several times, or even hundreds of times, more than that of regular spices.
"As for bryonia..."
The herb shop owner hesitated for a moment.
"Do you have bryonia?" Allen quickly asked.
The middle-aged man shook his head and said, "To be honest, if you'd come a week ago, I probably wouldn't have even heard of that name."
"But last week, when I went to Ban Ard to restock, I overheard two sorcerers mention that this thing might be a mysterious magical material."
"So if you need it, you can go to Ban Ard and have a look. At least pearl powder and allspice can be found in Wade's herb shop in the upper town."
The shopkeeper spoke sincerely.
Not only did he not show the usual disdain towards Witchers that other commoners in Ban Ard did, but he even kindly pointed out where they could make their purchases, like a friendly neighbor. Part of this kindness came from the five copper coins on the counter, but another part...
The young Witcher noticed the slight tremor in the middle-aged man's pupils.
"Probably because of last night's battle, and the beheaded corpse the mayor and guards dragged out of the inn this morning," Allen thought.
After all, when they had come to buy materials for the Specter Oil and rented the crucible yesterday, the shopkeeper's attitude hadn't been nearly as friendly.
No.
It was probably more because the mayor hadn't made things difficult for them and had quickly closed the case. Those three royal guards must have said something to the mayor...
He pulled his wandering thoughts back.
Since the herb shop didn't have the materials he needed, Allen glanced at Vesemir, then picked up the bag of saltpeter he'd paid for and headed outside. The shopkeeper watched the two fully armed Witchers, carrying double swords, turn and leave. He instinctively breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the five copper coins.
"Wait!"
The strange young Witcher suddenly turned around, startling the middle-aged man into dropping the coins.
"Clink, clink, clink, clink~"
A crisp sound echoed off the floor.
"Do you need anything else?"
The shopkeeper didn't pick up the fallen coins, instead pretending to be calm and friendly as he asked.
The young Witcher paused for a moment and asked: "Do you know how much 50 grams of pearl powder and 100 grams of allspice would cost in Ban Ard?"
The middle-aged man was stunned for a moment, then furrowed his brow in thought. After a while, he said: "50 grams of pearl powder would cost 10 Orens, and 100 grams of allspice... would cost at least 100 Orens."
After hesitating for a moment, the middle-aged man cautiously suggested: "Normally, for cooking or medicinal purposes, just one or two grams of allspice is enough; you don't need that much."
Allen nodded expressionlessly and, without saying anything else, left the herb shop. The middle-aged man waited for a while, and after seeing the two Witchers' backs disappear into the distance, he mumbled something under his breath and crouched down to gather the five coins.
110 Orens!
Incredible, a single Northern Wind bomb would cost 110 Orens!
On the way back to the inn, Allen couldn't suppress the intense dissatisfaction and disbelief in his heart.
No, it's not just 110 Orens!
Setting aside the 20 or 30 copper coins for the saltpeter, he hadn't even factored in the cost of the bryonia. But since it was an alchemical product, it probably wouldn't be cheap.
Ridiculous!
A regular Witcher of the School of the Wolf could earn about 500 Orens in a year, working hard and risking their life. Now, that money wouldn't even be enough to make three Northern Wind bombs.
Thinking about this, Allen instinctively touched the money pouch hidden at his chest. The thin, poor feel of it was heartbreaking.
Inside... there were less than four Orens worth of loose copper coins.
"It's okay, Allen."
"If we can't buy it at Orchard, we can go to Ban Ard in the afternoon. The shopkeeper said they'll definitely have it there."
Vesemir saw Allen looking downcast and thought he was anxious to gather the materials, so he tried to comfort him. Allen sighed helplessly at these words, shook his head, and said: "No need, Master Vesemir."
"We're not going to Ban Ard in the afternoon."
Vesemir stopped in surprise and turned his head to ask: "Why?"
"You're not making alchemical items anymore?"
He knew his apprentice well.
Allen was usually the type to get an idea for a new formula and then go to great lengths to make it as soon as possible, like a "mad" alchemist.
Why the sudden change today?
Allen noticed the curious look from the Witcher master, patted the area over his money pouch, and sighed again, saying: "The materials... the materials are too expensive. I'm too poor; I can't afford them..."
Too poor?
He instinctively looked behind Allen...
The silver sword Elsa, valued at 17,325 Orens. Then his eyes fell on the young Witcher's potion bag...
Two bottles of Verdant's Sigh, valued at more than 35,000 Orens. The combined value of all this was probably far greater than Allen's own weight. Vesemir fell silent, turned away from the puzzled look Allen gave him, and continued walking towards the inn without a word. He understood what Allen meant.
As a Witcher master, he certainly wouldn't be jealous, envious, or desire to be as wealthy as his apprentice...
Certainly not...
Thinking about how he still owed Allen a silver sword like Elsa, Vesemir simply felt that the road ahead was too narrow and difficult...
He was tired...
-------------
The herb shop was only forty meters from Bob and Mary's inn.
Vesemir soon reached the inn's entrance, where Hughes, Bond, and Fred were waiting for them on the first floor. Just as he was stepping through the wooden threshold, he suddenly heard Allen's voice behind him.
"Master Vesemir, about the afternoon's contract..."
"I'll go alone."
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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163. Too Weak!
164. Even if He is the King of a Nation!
165. The Woman in the Camp.
166. The Daisy of the Valleys and the Child of Miracles.
167. That Damn Reckless Elf!