I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Zig stood up and looked ahead along the drag marks.

"It was a bear, a very large one, weighing about three or four hundred kilograms. It was dragged into the ruins by something."

"Bear?"

Zoltan's brow furrowed even more. This weight was no longer prey that an ordinary wild beast could easily drag away.

“It hasn’t been long,” Zieg continued. “The bloodstains are still wet, and the drag marks are very clear. It must have happened an hour or two ago.”

Upon hearing this deduction, both Zoltan and Dandelion gasped, their faces showing disbelief.

"Wait," Dandelion said in a low voice, "you mean something dragged a bear weighing three or four hundred kilograms into the rubble?"

Zoltan swallowed hard, gripping his battle axe tightly.

"To be able to drag a struggling bear... only a giant could do that, right?"

"So," Sieg said, "the so-called 'armored wraith' is very likely just a giant in armor. Zoltan, the metallic clanging you heard that day was probably the sound of those scrap metal pieces on that giant's body clashing together."

Upon hearing this, Dandelion couldn't help but show a disappointed expression.

He muttered:

"A giant? That's it? I thought it was some legendary Wild Hunt knight. I already had the next poem in my head, and it turns out it's just a big guy in tattered clothes?"

"If you want a spirit, I can leave you here," Zoltan said irritably. "Maybe you'll run into one later."

"I...I was just kidding..." Dandelion shrank back.

The three continued along the tracks on the ground.

The trail stretched out, passing through collapsed houses, around charred ruins, and finally leading to a relatively open area—which must have once been the city square.

Gradually, Zieg saw a faint light behind the ruins in the distance.

The firelight flickered, sometimes bright and sometimes dim, appearing particularly eerie in the shadows.

As they drew closer, the stench of blood and decay in the air intensified, mingled with the smoky aroma of roasting meat—a disturbing mix of smells.

Zig raised a hand, signaling the two people behind him to stop.

He turned around, gestured for Dandelion to hide behind the nearby ruins, and then whispered to Zoltan:

"We'll flank you from both sides. You'll go around to the left, and I'll attack from the right."

Zoltan pulled out an exquisite throwing axe from his waist and weighed it in his hand.

He wasn't good with a bow, but he was adept at crossbows and throwing.

Even after drinking, he can still accurately hit the apple placed on someone's head.

Zoltan spat into his palm: "Be careful. If it really is a giant, that guy's strength is no joke. He can smash a person into a meat patty with one slap."

Sieg nodded slightly: "I know, but don't worry, this isn't my first time dealing with giants."

The next moment, the two of them simultaneously bypassed the broken wall in front of them.

On the open ground behind the broken wall, a campfire had just been lit, and a girl in armor sat beside the firelight.

The black bear that had been dragged in lay at her feet, its neck almost torn open, blood still seeping into the cracks in the rubble.

Zoltan's hand, holding the throwing axe, froze in mid-air.

"Sakia?"

Dandelion heard the sound and followed, his fear barely fading before turning into disbelief.

"My God... Sakia? Is it really you?"

The girl by the firelight saw Zoltan and Dandelion, and the wariness in her eyes lessened considerably.

"Zoltan, Dandelion, what are you doing here?"

Zoltan's gaze shifted from her to the bear carcass on the ground, and he swallowed hard.

"We heard there were armored spirits in the ruins of Fujian. Now it seems that the spirits are probably roasting bear meat."

Dandelion immediately raised his hand: "I must state that this judgment was not made by me."

"It attacked me first." Saqia looked down at the black bear. "I just dragged it here to deal with it."

Her gaze shifted to him: "Zoltan, who is your friend...?"

Sieg lowered his sword: "Your father and I have a mutual friend, Geralt. Does that name sound familiar?"

Upon hearing Geralt's name, Saskia completely relaxed.

"I've heard my father mention him. Since you know Geralt, he's at least not an enemy."

Zieg sheathed his sword and looked at the black bear on the ground. "We'd better deal with this bear as soon as possible."

Sakia glanced at him but did not object.

"Then I'll borrow your fire," Zieg said.

……

Half an hour later, the group sat around the campfire.

The bear had been dismembered into eight pieces.

Zig deftly removed the thick layer of fat that was most likely to smell fishy with a dagger, then picked out the firm tenderloin and ribs, and skewered them with a sharpened wooden stick.

He made deep cuts in the meat, poured on the dwarven liquor brought by Zoltan, and carefully rubbed it in with his hands, allowing the liquor to seep into the meat along the cuts. Only then did he sprinkle on salt, pepper, and a few sprigs of wild herbs.

He avoided the intense open flames and slowly grilled the meat skewers over the charcoal fire on the edge.

The oil dripped into the fire, sizzling as it fell, but the aroma was slow to whet the appetite.

Only after the meat skewers had been turned over several times, developed a brownish crust, and no more blood seeped out when pierced with a knife, did Zig brush on a thin layer of honey at the end.

The aroma of strong liquor mixed with the sweetness of caramel spread, suppressing much of the surrounding stench of blood.

Dandelion stared at the bear meat on the fire, his mouth watering several times without him even realizing it.

Zoltan wasn't much better off; his hand holding the wine flask was frozen in mid-air, his eyes barely leaving the flesh.

"I swear to the goddess Meritelli," Dandelion mumbled, his mouth still stuffed with meat, "this is better than Beauclair's roasted venison."

Zoltan was also devouring the bear meat, grease dripping down his beard, but he didn't care at all.

He ate while making satisfied humming sounds.

Sakia, on the other hand, was much more elegant, but she ate quite quickly.

She took small bites of the bear meat, a look of satisfaction flashing in her eyes.

The tenderloin, grilled thoroughly, has firm fibers and requires a firm bite to release the aroma of charcoal and the subtle sweetness of honey, which melts in your mouth layer by layer, greatly soothing your empty stomach on a cold night.

A feeling of fullness always makes people let their guard down.

The campfire crackled, its orange flames dancing on the faces of the four people, casting a warm glow on the surrounding ruins.

Zig turned his gaze to the girl across the fire.

"So, the ghost that terrified Ben Green was you?"

Sakia was using her dagger to pick up a piece of still-burning charcoal, watching it quickly dim in the cold wind.

"I don't know anything about undead."

Her voice was cold and tinged with weariness.

"But I have never left this place."

"For those Nilfgaards with guilty consciences, the living are perhaps more terrifying than the dead."

Zieg was not surprised.

Indeed, the so-called "armored ghosts" circulating in Ben Green's works were merely a distorted version of the story, fueled by fear and rumors.

As for the Wild Hunt, which truly appears like the Ghost Rider, it's impossible for it to linger in these ruins without a reason.

"What about the legendary treasure guarded by the dead?"

Dandelion, who was standing to the side, had a vague idea of ​​the answer, but he still asked the question.

"Treasure?"

"The only treasure is these ashes."

"The Nilfgaardian plundering parties came three times like locusts, even prying open the floor tiles to inspect them. Gold, silver, weapons, food, cloth... they took everything they could carry away."

"They even took the candlesticks with them."

A moment of silence fell over the room.

Occasionally, a spark or two would burst from the fire, only to be swept high into the sky by the night wind and disappear into the endless darkness.

Zoltan put down the wine bag in his hand and wiped the oil stains off his beard.

The battle-hardened dwarf veteran looked around, his gaze sweeping over the collapsed houses, the charred beams and pillars, and the stone path gradually eroded by weeds.

This ruin was once the homeland that he and his comrades swore to defend to the death.

Every stone is soaked in the blood of dwarves, humans, and elves.

"Sakia..."

Zoltan's voice was somewhat deep, with a rough, hoarse quality.

"Since there's nothing left, why are you still staying here?"

"Fergen no longer exists. As you can see, there isn't even a roof over your head to shelter you from the wind."

Sakia reached out her hand.

My fingers lingered in mid-air for a moment, but in the end they only grasped the cold night wind.

"I can't let go."

Her voice was very soft, almost drowned out by the wind.

"What can't you let go of?" Zoltan pressed.

Sakia remained silent for a long time.

"I can't let go of those who have died."

"I can't let go of that dream that once existed."