Lan's encounter with Bordon was an accident.
Or rather, his arrival in this magical medieval setting was also an accident.
A college student, born with healthy parents and a healthy mind and body, inexplicably journeyed through the endless void to a barbaric and dark world. It made no sense.
Magic existed here, but it wasn't flourishing, at least not to the extent that it could influence social progress.
Therefore, in this backward society, human life was worthless. In the forests of Velen, anyone who dared venture more than a few dozen meters would be haunted by the shadow of death.
Death by starvation, disease, slaughter by wild beasts or monsters, or simply poisoned by the bite of an unfamiliar insect. Most Velen people had become numb to the death around them.
Modern college students had only heard of ancient life through a few pages in history books.
He knew that, apart from the magic and monsters, life in the Velen was like that of ordinary people in ancient times.
But even knowing that, when this cruel and heavy reality, a life long since departed from him, was vividly revealed before his eyes, he still found it hard to accept.
Death is all too common.
As a great writer once said, this is an age where "people want to be dogs but can't."
And what's neither good nor bad luck is that Lann couldn't become a commoner.
He became Bordon's "accidental child."
He was "made" into one of his own kind, a witcher.
The "Law of Accident" is an unwritten law universally recognized and observed in this world.
Its origins are as old as human history.
It states that those who rescue others can, according to the Law of Accident, demand a reward from the rescued person. The reward is the first thing the rescued person sees upon returning home, or something the rescued person already possesses, unknown to them—usually a child the rescued person acquired upon leaving home. Such a child is called an "accidental child."
Even in the magical world of the Middle Ages, supernatural powers were a scarce resource.
For a modern college student, terrified by the harshness of their living environment, the opportunity to master supernatural powers should be something to be thankful for. "
But what's our target this time?"
Lan's delicate, yellow face surveyed the surroundings, carefully steering his old horse around a tree trunk and stepping in front of Bordon.
The burly man, with hair as lush as a brown bear's, wouldn't let him wander out of sight for long.
A slit in his thick beard revealed Bordon's lips.
"Perhaps two or three young fog demons gathered together, or a fog demon of sufficient age. The range and magical power of the fog are within that range."
"You can't even be sure of the number? That's overprepared."
Lan's body didn't show any emotion, but a slight frown crept into Bordon's face, unseen by him.
Witchers are stronger than ordinary humans, but in terms of basic skills, they can hardly defeat the combined strength of five ordinary people.
Witchers dare to hunt monsters because of their skill, knowledge, and most importantly, experience.
They accurately detect the type and number of their prey from clues, draw on their knowledge to determine their abilities and weaknesses, and then, after thorough preparation, wage an asymmetric war.
This is how witchers work.
If Boldon's pre-war preparations were this good, he wouldn't have had the chance to grow such a full beard.
He should have died in some wasteland when he was still a young boy!
Lan En already had the answer in his heart.
An icy gaze crept up Lan En's back, and a tone as cold as it was echoed.
"You lead the charge. Use Quen wisely."
It wasn't a discussion, but an order.
Witchers of the Bear School generally lack emotion, and therefore, when sending someone to their death, they lose even the most basic verbal veneer.
Lan En nodded calmly.
If he hadn't been used as cannon fodder to save hunting costs, he would have been grateful for his cat's eyes.
And just beside the ridge of the field the two had just passed, the farmer who had survived the disaster, humbly and obsequiously, pointed to a pool of blood in his field to four soldiers in standard Temerian armor.
It was left by his loyal dog.
The farmer kept chattering, and the soldiers were a little annoyed. They raised their iron gloves in the air, as if they were about to hit the farmer in the face.
After a few scoldings, the farmer pointed in a direction.
The four soldiers looked in that direction, tilted their heads and spat out a mouthful of thick phlegm, then jumped on their horses with curses.
~~~~~~~
Because of some things, Boldon is now wanted by the lord of Velen.
But the law enforcement level is equivalent to that of the Middle Ages, so although the witcher intends to hide his tracks, he has no intention of stopping the witch hunting mission because it affects his food and expenses.
And he doesn't even intend to pay the "cost" of hunting!
Lan En and Boldon were already standing in front of a valley formed by the intersection of a small hillside. In the hollow of the valley, a faint heap of rocks loomed.
The indistinctness was due to a layer of yellow-green mist that abruptly enveloped the vast expanse of land.
The wind could not blow, and the moisture could not settle.
Lan glanced at the roaring bear head necklace on Bordon's neck. The delicate head was trembling slightly, sensing the magic in the mist.
Judging by the intensity of the tremor, the magic was not strong.
His stomach growled with hunger, but Lan continued to move his body diligently.
The loyal dog had been eaten, and Bordon had left him the head.
There wasn't much meat, but Lan had adapted to it.
The man wasn't starving Lan out of malicious pleasure; in fact, he didn't find pleasure in his evil deeds.
But someone without emotional hormones couldn't be expected to care much about his "tool."
Bordon didn't want Lan to starve, but he didn't care whether Lan was full or not.
Witchers have a high tolerance, and therefore can withstand hunger.
As Lan stretched himself, he didn't see Bordon pull potions from his pouch, nor did he see him draw the two swords from his back and apply oil.
Generally speaking, both of these items significantly increase a witcher's advantage against monsters.
Aside from their high cost and toxicity, they have few drawbacks.
Bordon, as the primary force, clearly wasn't willing to spend the money this time.
As the vanguard and scout, Lan had to take the risk for Bordon's economy.
This was precisely how Bordon "used" him.
"Now, forward."
Having tied up his horse, the bearded man, with a low, metallic clang, drew one of the two swords from his back.
A half-blade gleamed with a cold silver light.
The look in his eyes as he gazed at Lan's back matched the warmth of the sword's gleam, a coldness that remained unwavering .
Ahead of the young man lay an unknown number of fog spirits, each of unknown strength.
They could create fog and become invisible, and the more resourceful ones could even shape the fog into illusions.
These grayish-white, humanoid scavengers possessed sharp claws. Their bony arms could rip the heads off dogs and sheep with a single swing, shredding cotton armor like paper before them.
Even a cautious peasant would have his stomach ripped open in five seconds, his intestines spilling out onto the floor.
This was despite the monster's ability to master sneak attacks.
Behind the young man, a witcher, who had hunted countless monsters and could move with ease in a suit of armor weighing at least thirty kilograms, drew his silver sword.
Silver could stun monsters and possess a soft nature. But with its iron-clad silver blade, it could easily cut down a human.
Lan seemed oblivious to this, his delicate face frozen, as if devoid of all emotion.
He simply tightened his grip around his cotton armor again, his eyes fixed on the void.
A clear, concise image filled his retina.
"Name: Lan En,
Race: Witcher (Magic Cyborg)
Skills: Bear School Swordsmanship (Training plan established. Instruction in progress—discontinued. Reason: Insufficient computing power),
Potions Knowledge (Recording in progress. Instruction in progress—discontinued. Reason: Insufficient computing power),
Quen's Sign (Training plan [Elementary] established. Instruction in progress—discontinued. Reason: Insufficient computing power) "
The knowledge crucial to a witcher's life was listed one by one.
Swordsmanship, potions, signs. But at the end, always marked with four bold, black characters: "Insufficient computing power."
And above each string of "Insufficient computing power" were clearly marked a series of arrows, indicating the whereabouts of this precious computing power.
It was a bright red progress bar marked "Analyzing," almost finished.
The gaze behind him grew colder, but Lan En remained calm, using his mind to shut off the projection on his retina. Time to get to work.