I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Above the valley, layers of branches and leaves overlap, crushing the midday sunlight into shimmering patches of pale gold that fall among the damp, decaying leaves and scattered rocks.

Zieg stood on a protruding rock, unfolded a parchment map, and slowly traced the course of the stream with his fingertips.

What he's looking for isn't the original item.

Rather, it is something in this world that can replace it.

Cypress stem and fruit.

The Wolf School uses it in several of their potions.

He hasn't yet undergone the Trial of the Grasses, and his body is far from being that of a true Witcher.

But during his years in Kaer Morhen, with the help of the Book of Adventures, he managed to develop several milder formulations that were enough to reduce the potion's toxicity to a level that mortals could tolerate.

He knew exactly where this fruit grew in his original world.

In a different world, the name may not remain, but the habits may not change.

Damp, shady, with piles of gravel, near a water source.

If the herbs here also grow according to the same medicinal properties, they are mostly found in places like this.

Zig glanced at the valley below and closed the map again.

The parchment scattered into fine dust in his palm and disappeared into the Book of Adventure.

He walked down the stream.

The soles of my boots stomped over the soft, damp leaves, making only a very faint thud. The forest was quiet, save for the low murmur of the stream flowing over the crevices of the rocks.

He searched along the valley for more than ten minutes before finally stopping beside a large, shady rock.

Several low shrubs grew in the crevices at the base of the rock. They were not tall and were inconspicuous, almost swallowed up by the surrounding dampness and shadow.

Zig bent down.

The dark green leaves have fine serrated edges, and several clusters of small, purplish-black fruits hang below them. They are only the size of a fingernail, and their skin is covered with a thin layer of wax, as if they have just absorbed moisture from the damp, cold cracks in the rocks.

He raised his hand and took out a herb-gathering knife from the book of adventure.

The blade is very thin.

With a gentle flick, the fruit and a short stem fall together, the skin completely undamaged.

Zig reached out and caught it.

My palms were slightly cool and damp.

In the blink of an eye, those few purplish-black fruits disappeared silently and were collected into the ancient books.

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into the depths of his mind.

In the darkness, the ancient pages of the book turned on their own.

The ink slowly emerged on the yellowed paper, forming several clear lines of writing.

"Dressre Fruit: A unique herb found only in the Goblin Slayer world"

"Its medicinal properties are similar to those of the stems and fruits of the cypress tree, and its magical activity is stable."

"Can be used as an alternative to concocting potions such as 'Maripo Forest' and 'Cat'."

You've found the right one.

Zieg glanced at the few lines of text for a moment, then looked away.

As long as the ingredients are right, the Wolf School can still concoct potions.

Without further delay, he gripped his herb-gathering knife firmly again and picked the ripe dresh fruit clusters around the rocks one by one.

The blade fell very lightly.

Fruit, short stem, peeled completely.

The roots remained in the cracks of the rock, unharmed.

As Sieg was about to get up after adding the last handful of fruit to his adventure book, his gaze suddenly stopped on the stream.

His movements then paused.

On the wet mud, just two steps from the water's edge, there was a string of fresh dents.

It's not an animal claw.

They are footprints.

It is very small, about the size of a seven or eight-year-old child, but its shape is completely different.

There was no tread pattern on the sole, the forefoot was wide, the toes were short and thick, splayed outwards, the arch of the foot was almost invisible, and the foot was planted very deep, as if the weight was much heavier than it should be for this size.

Zig squatted there and watched for a moment.

His right hand was still holding the herb-gathering knife, his wrist naturally hanging down to his waist, resting near the longsword.

He raised his gaze, following the direction of the footprints, and looked deeper into the woods.

A moment later, the person silently followed.

……

The footprints were intermittent, leading all the way into the depths of the dense forest.

Zig kept a low profile and crept through the forest for nearly half an hour.

The branches and leaves shattered the sunlight, making the forest feel stifling.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking into his collar, and his back was already drenched. The fabric clung to his skin, leaving a lingering damp and sticky feeling.

But his breathing remained steady.

The steps were very light.

Occasionally, birdsong could be heard from ahead, briefly flitting across the branches before disappearing again.

The further you go into the woods, the quieter it becomes, as if something is gradually swallowing up all the sounds.

Zieg finally stopped behind a clump of bushes.

He parted a few branches and leaves to look ahead.

Sixty meters away, a clearing opened up in the woods.

A small lake is nestled in the middle of the lake. The water is very still, and a circle of low shrubs and sparse reeds grows along the shore. Several moss-covered stones are half-submerged in the water.

On the lakeside, eight short, dark green figures were crouching.

Goblin.

Zieg did not draw his sword immediately.

He lay prone behind the bushes, his gaze quietly sweeping over the eight monsters, scrutinizing their scattered positions, the weapons in their hands, and whether there were any further signs of activity around them.

Eight goblins didn't just appear here out of nowhere.

They especially congregate in groups near water sources.

This is most likely not the entire tribe, but just a small team that came out to fetch water or search for prey along the way.

The presence of a small team indicates that there must be a nest nearby.

It might be a cave, a cracked mountain cave, or a stinking ditch beneath an abandoned grotto.

The distance won't be too far.

Zig took a slow breath.

The damp air rushed into my lungs through my nasal cavity, carrying the unique chill of the woodland.

He took out the hardwood warbow from the book of adventure.

The moment you bend over and reach out, your palm naturally tightens.

As my fingertips brushed against the taut bowstring, the familiar resilience immediately returned to my palm.

He crouched in the shade of the bushes, drew a gray-feathered arrow, and steadily nocked it onto the bowstring.

The war bow was drawn back little by little.

The bow arm is taut.

The string music had not yet been played.

His gaze had already passed through the gaps in the branches and leaves, landing on the goblins by the lake.

A gentle breeze wafted across the lake.

The lateral deviation is not significant.

Zig's gaze lingered for a moment on the subtle change in the airflow before settling on the back of the goblin closest to the water's edge.

Slightly loosen the two fingers.

hum-

The bowstring snapped open with a low, soft sound.

The arrow left the bowstring and flew through the gaps between the branches and leaves, so fast that it was almost a cold flash.

Immediately afterwards, the arrow pierced through the goblin's back and went straight into its chest cavity.

The monster's body stiffened abruptly, and before it could even utter a scream, it plunged headfirst into the shallow water by the lake.

With a thud.

Water splashed.

Fresh blood immediately gushed from the wound, quickly spreading across the shallow water and staining it a glaring dark red.

The tranquility by the lake was shattered in an instant.

The remaining seven goblins let out strange cries almost simultaneously.

Sharp, hoarse, like a piece of iron scraping against a stone surface.

They suddenly turned their heads, their blood-red eyes following the direction from which the arrows flew, and instantly fixed their gaze on the gently swaying bushes.

The next moment, all seven monsters pounced on them.

The short knives were full of nicks, and the wooden sticks were covered in dark brown grime. They ran wildly, howling like wild beasts, their movements hurried and chaotic, yet incredibly fast.

A distance of sixty meters was quickly eroded.

Zieg remained unmoved.

As soon as the first arrow left his hand, his right hand reached for the quiver again.

He drew both arrows at once and nocked them onto the bowstring.

Draw the bow, then release it.

The movements were executed in one smooth motion, so fast that there was almost no pause, as if the entire set of movements had been engraved into the bones, just waiting to flow out naturally at this moment.

The bowstring vibrated again.

Two arrows flew out one after the other.

The two goblins at the front didn't even see what it was before all they could see was a suddenly enlarged flash of cold light.

puff puff!

Two arrows pierced the space between the eyebrows almost simultaneously, penetrating directly through the skull.

The two monsters were violently thrown over by the force, crashing backwards into the decaying leaves and mud, leaving two long, bloody trails behind them.

The remaining five goblins stepped over the corpses of their companions and continued charging forward.

The distance was suddenly reduced to more than forty meters.

From this vantage point, many details are now clearly visible.

Their faces were wrinkled and their dark green skin was covered with old sores and scabs. Their fangs were bared and saliva was hanging from the corners of their mouths, which swayed as they ran. You could almost smell the stench of it through the wind.

Zieg did not look away.

The bowstring snapped for the third time.

Two more arrows.

With a flash of cold light, the arrows pierced the chests of the two goblins one after the other, their force so strong that there was almost no hesitation.

The two monsters in front suddenly stopped, their feet lifted off the ground by the impact.

His chest caved in.

The upper body suddenly bends backward.

They staggered back two steps, then plunged headfirst into the mud, twitched their limbs a couple of times, and soon fell silent.

From the moment the first arrow left the bowstring until now, only a few seconds have passed.

But the remaining three goblins, braving the blood on the ground, charged within thirty meters.

This distance is already very close.

A few steps further and they would pounce on you.

Zieg still hasn't backed down.

He stood still, his breathing steady, and the hardwood war bow in his hand was drawn back once more, the bow arm taut like a full moon.

The wind is still blowing.

The wind blew from the lakeside, through the gaps in the trees, brushed past the branches and leaves, and then swept up to the monsters.

He didn't stare at their ugly faces.

My gaze followed that tiny wisp of air and landed on the goblin's exposed throat at the very front.

Let go.

The bowstring trembled.

The arrow shot out through the wind.

The goblin was still hissing when its voice was abruptly cut off.

The arrow pierced through his throat, bringing out a spray of warm, frothy blood.

Its mouth was open, and only a strange, whistling sound came out of its throat. Its legs went weak, and it fell to the ground face down into the muddy water, never to get up again.

Only two remain.

One of them abruptly stopped just as it was getting close, and swung its arm backward.

The nicked dagger flew out of his hand.

The blade spun rapidly in mid-air, skimming the wind as it hurtled straight toward Sieg's face.

Zieg's eyes remained fixed.

In his eyes, the trajectory of the knife was not chaotic.

From the angle at which it leaves the hand, to its deviation when breaking through the wind, and finally to where it will land, everything is as clear as a pre-drawn line.

He simply tilted his head slightly.

With a whoosh.

The dagger grazed his cheek, lifting a strand of hair.

Immediately afterwards, the blade plunged into a section of rotten tree trunk behind it with a dull thud.

Just as the dagger grazed past him, Zieg's steel sword was already drawn from its sheath.

When the sword left its sheath, it made only a very soft scraping sound.

He took a step forward.

Not fast, not in a hurry.

But as he took that step, both he and his sword had already cut into the path of the goblin's attack.

A cold glint flashed across the sky.

The goblin that had just thrown its dagger didn't even have time to stop its momentum before a line of blood exploded on its neck.

The next moment, the head flew off and tumbled into the weeds beside it.

The headless body still lunged forward half a step.

Dark blood gushed from the severed wound, and he collapsed with a thud.

The last goblin had gone completely berserk.

It shrieked and pounced, using the momentum of its charge to leap up, raising the rough wooden stick high with both hands and slamming it down hard on Zig's head.

Zieg did not raise his sword to meet the attack.

He simply turned to the side, letting the bat graz his shoulder and miss.

The wooden stick shattered the air, creating a gust of evil wind.

Almost simultaneously, Zig flipped his wrist, and the heavy hilt of his sword slammed into the goblin's ribs from below.

A dull cracking sound.

It felt like something had broken off inside the skin and flesh.

The goblin was in mid-air when it was slammed into something, its scream distorted by the impact.

It landed heavily on the muddy ground a few steps away, like a tattered sack that had been thrown out, rolled over once, and the wooden stick flew out of my hand.

It's not dead yet.

His limbs were still twitching, struggling to get up, his fingers digging and clawing wildly in the mud, but he couldn't lift himself up no matter what.

Zieg walked over with his sword.

The steps were light.

It landed on the ground covered with decaying leaves and damp mud, making only a slight thud.

He stopped in front of the monster and looked down at it.

The next moment, the sword blade fell vertically.

With a soft "poof".

The steel sword pierced through the back of the neck, pinning the still convulsing body to the ground.

The goblin tensed up suddenly, its limbs twitched twice as if in spasm, and then it quickly became completely still.

Zieg drew his longsword with one hand.

Blood slid down the spine of the sword.

He casually flicked his wrist, throwing the filthy blood into the fallen leaves beside him.

The woods quickly quieted down again.

A breeze blew across the lake, carrying a slightly damp coolness.

The ripples on the water in the distance were still spreading out in circles, as if nothing had happened.