In Victor's memories from his previous life, this giant was a monster that had to be encountered. It was the first battle upon entering Toussaint, so after spending so long in the duchy, he had naturally investigated information about it.
According to local legend, the giant's name was Golyat. It had once been a human knight, but pride had blinded him. Believing himself the perfect embodiment of the five chivalric virtues, he demanded praise from the Lady of the Lake.
In the end, not only did he receive no reward, he was punished by the goddess instead, and the knight was transformed into a monster.
She said, "Having lost your knightly spirit, you are no longer a knight. Your sword shall become a mace, and your body a beast that needs no armor. From this moment onward, your name is Golyat. You shall live at the foot of Mount Gorgon, far from human eyes, accompanied by the painful memory of your lost glory until death mercifully frees you from suffering."
No one knew how true this legend was, but everyone knew that this dangerous giant would chew up shepherds and sheep together and swallow them.
To Victor, the greatest warning this fable gave him was this, do more good deeds before going to find the Lady of the Lake. Although he did not expect her to give him Aerondight, at least she should not go around throwing curses at random.
Putting the legend aside, ordinary giants were creatures of the Conjunction of the Spheres. They belonged to the ogroid category, so Ogroid Oil applied.
Against giant monsters, the most effective methods were still the classic "lazy donkey roll" and "toe-trimming." Previously, the witcher had wanted to use these two moves to deal with the gargoyle, but switching them over to a giant suited them even better.
After his steel sword slashed a few times across the front and back of its knees, its steps when moving and turning became sluggish, and the speed of its weapon swings slowed considerably.
Although Golyat's size was full of pressure, Victor was in a rather relaxed mood. Unlike the time with the ice giant, when he had to break through its defenses within a time limit or be surrounded and beaten by it and the sirens, the "ordinary giant" before him had neither frost armor nor lackeys. Its fall was only a matter of time.
After who knew how many houses had been destroyed, Deputy Captain Horace de Funés of the ducal guard arrived at D'Assinie's Windmill with dozens of city guards, as well as some knights whose shield emblems Victor could not recognize.
They came too late and missed the part where the witcher rolled all over the ground and aimed every slash at the giant's lower body. They only saw the final glorious and valiant scene, Victor standing with both feet on Golyat's shoulders, driving Blazing Strike into its head with both hands.
The witcher leapt down. The giant let out an earth-shaking howl. Every staggering step shook the ground. On its ugly and savage face, fear and disbelief appeared, and then it crashed to the ground.
...
Some time later.
Although the knights' admiring gazes were pleasant, they also had one drawback, he could not hack Golyat into pieces in front of them.
According to Victor's initial idea, he had wanted to chop open every part for detailed appraisal. For example, Giant's Heart sounded very powerful, and Giant's Kidney might have traits too. Then think about a certain legendary Dragonborn, even giant toes could be used in medicine!
Unfortunately, he now had to take his image into account. Toward humanoid monsters, he could not be too cruel, at most cutting off the head. Otherwise, it would affect his reputation. And the commonly recognized trophy, the monster's head, happened to be unsuitable as an alchemical material.
So he could only use Zerrikanian custom as an excuse and chop off an extra "Giant's Hand" as a trophy. Holding it in his hand and roughly sensing it, the alchemist revealed a mysterious smile.
"Although defeating a monster is something to be happy about, why do I feel your expression is very strange? Do you have some special preference for giant hands?" Since they had once fought shoulder to shoulder at Belle's House, Barrel Junior, Horace, spoke in a very natural joking tone.
"You don't understand. This is a very important item. Its value is difficult to estimate. At least this wasn't wasted effort!" Victor directly wrapped the hand in a piece of cloth. "How is Guillaume now?"
Thinking of the friend who had been dug out from the rubble, Horace smiled with dimples. "How else could he be? He took one club strike, his breastplate is a bit dented, and he was beaten until he spat blood, but no bones are broken. He'll be lively again soon enough!"
The alchemist took a bottle of potion from his herbal satchel. "Let's go. I have a healing potion here. Have him drink it before sending him to a doctor. Don't let his uncle say I treat Guillaume badly." His uncle was Palmerin.
The two walked from the place where the giant had fallen toward the tent sheltering the wounded.
"The Wine Festival is in just a few days, yet Mr. Corion is still outside fighting bravely. Looks like you really have great confidence in your new red wine?"
"Even you, a deputy captain of the city guards, know about this. It seems Count Crespi's promotion is truly impressive!"
The son of the vice chairman of the Coopers' Guild whistled. "The dirty things he did are known by those who ought to know, and they're easy to find out if one wants. I mentioned your situation to my father.
"He said, 'Fair competition with a bottom line must be upheld. A batch of high-quality barrels has already been sent to Corion Manor as compensation. Those fellows who gave you rotten barrels will also receive the corresponding punishment. I guarantee this will not happen again.
"'It is extremely regrettable that the compensation cannot catch up with this Wine Festival. Please issue a statement to clarify as soon as possible. You just took over the manor. No one will blame you for failing to produce Sansretour Mellow, much less a new red wine.'"
Last time at Belle's House, the boy had not mentioned this matter at all. So Barrel Junior's actions meant that he recognized Victor as a person and actively wanted to befriend him.
"Thank old Mr. de Funés for his concern, and please convey my regards to him. However, don't worry about this problem. Count Crespi's actions are merely helping me save on publicity fees.
"Although the oak barrels are not the best, as a master winemaker, I swear on my grandfather's honor that Lafite will sweep the Wine Festival."
"Gods! Are you serious? You cross too many fields... witcher, alchemist, knight of honor, Dovahkiin, and now you tell me you're also a master winemaker?"
"That's right. Don't doubt it. I am a master winemaker. Just wait to drink good wine! Speaking of which, how do you know I'm the 'Dovahkiin'? I thought the people of Toussaint didn't know my reputation?"
Thinking of something amusing, the witcher's lips lifted. Last time at Belle's House, Guillaume had not even known that the "Dovahkiin" was sitting right beside him, and had even shouted that he wanted to imitate the "Dragonborn" and slay monsters.
The deputy captain of the city guards stopped. Horace's expression became serious and sincere. "Actually, quite a few people have heard of it, but it is too unbelievable, so either they did not connect it to you, or they felt it was exaggerated."
"But after witnessing with my own eyes your valor in slaying Golyat..." He faced Victor directly, placed a hand on his chest, and bowed. "I salute you, Victor, born east of Zerrikania, crosser of the Korath Desert, Stormborn, Fate-Chosen, Immaculate of Melitele, Fist of the Eastern Dipper, the Dragon of Bell Town, Dawnbreak, alchemist of the witchers, crosser of the Path of Warriors, arena champion, barehanded bear-splitter, transcender of nightmares, hundred-slayer with a drawn sword, lord of the Phantom Troupe, knight of Skellige, the Last Dragonborn, Dovahkiin, giant slayer Victor of Kaer Trolde."
Although it felt very good to hear, there was also a faint feeling of embarrassment...
Victor touched his nose and reached out to tap Horace's shoulder armor. "Those are just empty names, like drifting clouds."
Horace raised his head with a grin. "Believe it or not, if Guillaume had that sort of cloud-like reputation, he'd be willing to die on the spot!"
The witcher was too lazy to answer. He pulled Barrel Junior by the arm and continued toward the shelter for the wounded. Guillaume was indeed not badly injured. He was still conscious enough to drink the healing potion and sincerely express his gratitude.
Not disturbing the wounded knight's rest or the deputy captain's effort to settle the villagers, Victor made an appointment to see both of them again at the Wine Festival, then left handsomely on horseback.
...
By the time he arrived at the Cockatrice Inn, he had already missed mealtime. Without needing to ask, he knew the crayfish chowder was sold out. So the witcher could only order an herb-roasted chicken and buttered brioche, accompanying the meal with "Lafite" poured into a Sansretour Mellow bottle.
Why was there "Lafite"?
Surely no one thought a dignified alchemist would brew wine completely and honestly. For an unscientific scientist like him, of course he followed the method of brewing potions and reverse-engineered the process from various results. Under the premise that he only needed taste and not efficacy, it was even somewhat simpler than brewing medicine.
"Lafite," prominent blackcurrant fruitiness combined with the classic aromas of cedar and cigar box, exquisitely balanced with a long finish. It was absolutely an impressive fine wine!
As he ate, he sized up the surrounding guests. There was a bustling crowd, with customers gathered like clouds. Beauclair's always joyful atmosphere was unsuitable for business talks, so most foreign merchants chose suburban trading stations or inns for business discussions.
Within this atmosphere full of human warmth, Victor suddenly remembered the first time he had come to the inn, that beautiful woman wearing a cloak who had made the School of the Wolf medallion vibrate.
He had not paid too much attention at the time, and afterward Angoulême had also said there had been no hostility aimed at them. But he always felt as if later on, he had seen that face again somewhere, or perhaps not the same person, but a very similar outline.
The witcher, immersed in strange thoughts, suddenly heard an odd conversation in his ears. "You don't know how frightened and despairing I was at the time! That monster appeared silently just like that, whoosh, and stole all my spoons. Its claws were like blades, and its smell was like rotten eggs."
"Oh, please. So you're saying that monster appeared from the darkness not to tear you apart and eat you, but to steal your treasured spoons?"
"Er... I know it's hard to believe, but that really is what happened!"
The boy did not care about the argument that followed. "A monster that steals spoons" awakened memories from his previous life. In his impression, it was a pitiful old woman who, simply because she had been unwilling to offer a meal, was cursed by a passing beggar and transformed into a monster.
And as for the methods of cursing and lifting curses, with the appearance of Vivienne de Tabris and during the days of living with Keira, Victor naturally did not miss the chance to ask for guidance.
Basically, for curses in the witcher world to take form, one could say the requirements were very casual. Even an ordinary person, if they casually cursed someone in a place rich with chaotic magic, could make their dream come true, although most of the time it would be a nightmare.
As for the method of lifting curses, it often had to be handled case by case according to local conditions. One had to reverse the logic by which the curse had formed in order to undo it without aftereffects. As for certain curses with no answer, one could only say sorry.
Victor propped his chin with his left hand. He had forgotten what monster that old woman turned into... but it definitely was not much larger than an ordinary person, a size that an ordinary house could contain.
"Not very dangerous. Then let's help her!" the witcher thought.
He tossed down coins to pay the bill. Before the Wine Festival, the final two jobs would be clearing Tufo Vineyard and this "spoon-stealing monster."
...
However, plans could not keep up with changes. As Victor rode his horse along a small path past a forest cabin, he saw an old woman in ragged clothes and with a haggard appearance kneeling on the ground in prayer.
His enhanced senses precisely caught her prayer. "Prophet Lebioda, please help me. I cannot close my eyes, because I fear nightmares will invade me again.
"Evil spirit! Please return my peace to me. Why do you insist on choosing to harm me? Why torment me? Leave! Evil spirit!"
Hearing her mournful plea clearly, before his mind had decided whether to help, his hand had already pulled the reins.
Staring at his self-acting hand, the witcher could not help reflecting on whether his compassion had been overflowing a little lately. This woman looked like she had no money at all!
But looking at it from another angle, this was the leisure that came with being strong enough. In the past, if he had heard the words "evil spirit," how would he have dared provoke it rashly?
As for now, Victor jumped down from his horse and walked to her side, smiling and revealing his white teeth. "Madam, you look terribly tormented. Who is causing trouble? Don't be afraid. Everything is fine now, because I am here!"
The old woman slowly rose. "Please forgive me, but I must ask you directly. Are you human? I no longer trust my five senses."
"Without question, I am human." Victor took off his sunglasses. "Look at this exquisite armor, the twin swords on my back, and my glittering eyes. No matter how you look at me, I'm human!"
"Ah... kind traveler, so you are a witcher. My name is Pinastri. But no, I fear you may not be able to help me either..."
Her attitude was decent. The boy shrugged. "Victor of Kaer Trolde. Tell me what is going on first. Only then will I know whether I can help."
The gorgeous armor and shining twin swords, the faith of a strong man and his mutated pupils, gave courage to the tormented old woman.
"A vile demon or specter is haunting me and refuses to give me peace. I can feel that it wants something, but I don't know what. Every day, it comes out wandering and then leaves. It is behind the bushes right now!"
The witcher looked in the direction the old woman pointed. The afternoon sun shone brightly. With the witcher's enhanced vision, no matter how he looked, it was an ordinary bush. "I don't see anything... Wait, I think I see a strong black horse? Is that it?"
"Of course. No one can see it! ...You saw it!?" Pinastri's face was full of astonishment. "Did you also drink a potion?"
Staring at the faint phantom of that black horse, it seemed to be merely wandering nearby. Victor frowned. "Potion... what potion? You drank a potion to observe spirits?"
"A potion I brewed myself. After drinking it, I get headaches and dizziness, but I have to endure those symptoms to see clearly the evil spirit tormenting me."
"Can you tell me how it torments you?" The witcher reached out and covered his mouth.
"That black giant horse, its hooves strike the ground heavily in the darkness. It runs toward me, stops and stares at me, then runs away again.
"Since you can see it, you must also be able to tell that it is definitely not a creature of this world. It is the incarnation of a demon. Its black eyes contain only emptiness. Every time it comes before me and stares at me, I feel that chill and fear in my heart."
The more Pinastri spoke, the more fluent she became. She could sense that the witcher before her was staring at that giant specter horse with a stern and fearless gaze, while his hand covered his mouth... Was he secretly laughing!?
Covering his mouth with his hand, Victor was indeed laughing secretly. He was happy because good people were rewarded for good deeds. "Madam, what did you brew your potion with? I want to know what ingredients you used to create such clear spirit vision. Was it hallucinogenic mushrooms, strong puffball, or mandrake?"
The reason the boy asked about the herbs was because in his memories from his previous life, Pinastri's spirit-vision potion itself had no practical value, but its side effect was extremely magical! It was a very interesting magic potion.
"So you are also quite knowledgeable about herbs. Graytop. I used graytop," the female hermit kindly answered.
Hearing the name, Victor's eyes immediately lit up. When studying under Mother Nenneke at the Temple of Melitele, she had mentioned this mushroom several times, a mushroom extinct due to climate change. It could be used to make very powerful spirit-vision potions, and in ancient times, it had been the best choice for seances. He had not expected that it would actually still survive in Toussaint.
"No wonder you get headaches and dizziness after drinking the potion. Graytop has very strong side effects. I thought it was already extinct!"
"Only on the verge, but not completely extinct yet. I cultivated a few from dried spores. I used graytop to brew the potion, and only then did I see this nightmare's true form."
"I see. I can help you deal with this demon, but in truth, I can only see a faint phantom. I need your graytop potion to help me see the specter clearly."
Hearing the affirmative answer, the female hermit happily nodded again and again. "I am very willing to help you brew the potion. There are still two mushrooms left, enough to brew one dose. It will just require some time. Please come inside and wait. Ah, and one more thing. I am very sorry, but I have nothing much to entertain you with. I only have plenty of potatoes. As for payment, there are only potatoes too."
The inside of the little cabin was not exactly bare, because the walls were covered with dried herbs, but she definitely belonged to a poor farming household. The prayer book of Prophet Lebioda and the scourge placed on the table also revealed this lady's faith.
Victor bowed slightly. "Honourable lady, there is no need for potatoes. Just give me some graytop spore powder and teach me how to cultivate it. This precious mushroom must not go extinct."
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810