Chapter 57: Margareta's Brother
The trees in the small grove were dense, and only scattered patches of sunlight reached the ground.
Margareta's chest heaved violently for a moment before her breathing slowly calmed down:
"So, you're the Witcher who claims he'll hunt the monster for free?"
Arthur raised a finger and shook it:
"First, I am not a Witcher, at least not yet.
"Second, not all monsters must be killed. If this monster is a cursed human, I prefer to lift the curse."
Arthur's words were half-truth. The matter with the Princess proved that lifting a curse also granted progression points. He genuinely had no motive to kill the cursed individual. However, he couldn't ignore the idlers' claims either; if the creature was collaborating with the Chief and the sorcerer to harm people, then simply drawing his sword and slaying it would be much simpler.
Margareta exhaled sharply, and her expression relaxed slightly:
"Then do you know how to lift a werewolf curse?"
Arthur chuckled softly:
"That's interesting. I asked around the entire village and couldn't figure out the monster's type, yet you know it's a werewolf."
"Could it be that you also know its identity?"
Margareta's face went white: "Not long before the monster appeared, every house in the village suddenly started growing parsley, yet they weren't transporting it to nearby towns to sell for money."
"Using that as a clue and asking traveling sorcerers, it's easy enough to connect the dots to a werewolf, isn't it?"
Margareta's logic was barely coherent, but unfortunately, she was still just a country girl who hadn't seen much of the world. Her pallid complexion and stuttering tone already confirmed Arthur's suspicion.
Arthur grinned, unveiling the truth:
"The werewolf is Niren, isn't it?"
Margareta's pupils dilated violently. She couldn't speak, only making strained 'ah-ah' sounds for a while.
Arthur reassured her: "Don't worry. I told you that not all monsters have to die. "To my knowledge, at least three methods have successfully lifted lycanthropy the werewolf curse."
"Trust me, even a genuine Witcher usually doesn't relish a direct confrontation with a werewolf."
Arthur spoke while looking into Margareta's eyes with a sincere gaze.
By the time he finished speaking, the girl had developed an inexplicable trust in him:
"Can you really help lift my brother's curse?"
This time, the girl's easy trust was not due to her naiveté, but because Arthur had employed a technique he learned from Triss's notes.
[Mind Projection]: By maintaining eye contact, one can project their thoughts into the mind of the conversational partner, making it easier to gain their trust.
The spell was simple to learn and convenient to use. Since it didn't involve thought manipulation, failure wouldn't cause the target any discomfort.
The only drawback was that people found it difficult to control their own thoughts, making it nearly impossible to use the trick to deceive someone without decades of rigorous training.
Therefore, despite its advantages, it was considered a minor, unrefined parlor trick.
Facing Margareta's softening attitude, Arthur became more composed. He pointed to the tree trunk behind her:
"Haven't you already prepared the shirt made of parsley? That method has a high success rate. Even if I hadn't come, you probably would have managed it yourself. "After all, the hardest part of that method is getting the cursed person to wear the shirt and survive the night. And from what I understand, Niren doesn't seem to enjoy being a werewolf much."
Arthur intended to lighten the mood, but Margareta suddenly burst into tears: "My brother… he doesn't want the curse lifted anymore. He doesn't even want to see me."
Now, this was strange. According to the self-reports of lycanthropy patients in the bestiary, being a werewolf was actually an extremely painful experience:
Every single transformation, the firecracker-like crackling within their bodies made them believe their bones were breaking and reforming. Flesh and muscle boiled and churned, tearing away the human form in a desperate rush.
And even when human, the lycanthropy sufferer found little peace. The bloodthirsty beast-soul whispered and mocked relentlessly in the depths of their hearts not all lycanthropy patients found a way to coexist peacefully with the beast-soul.
Could it be that Niren has completely succumbed to the bloodlust, which is why he refuses the cure?
No! Arthur immediately rejected his own hypothesis. If that were the case, it would be impossible for only one person, Hanna, to have died in the village so far...
Hanna!
It was as if the fog before his eyes had suddenly parted. Arthur felt a flash of realization.
His gaze fixed fiercely on Margareta: "Did you have a conflict with Hanna?"
Margareta subconsciously backed away, only to be tripped by the dense bushes that had begun to sprout at her feet: "No, no! My brother and Hanna were always good to me, and I liked them both. How could I possibly harm Hanna!"
What a foolish girl. I only started the question, and she's already given everything away…
Seeing Arthur's expression, Margareta finally realized she had let the truth slip. She desperately scrambled backward: "No, it wasn't me! I didn't hurt Hanna! It wasn't me who did it…"
"Look out!"
Arthur shouted a sharp warning. As he charged forward, his hand-and-a-half sword traced a cold, exquisite arc in the air, barely knocking an arrow harmlessly to the ground directly in front of Margareta.
"Who is it?"
Arthur was both shocked and enraged. The arrow had come silently, and without the aid of [Vigilance], he would have had to watch Margareta be shot dead right in front of him.
She is holding the key to at least ten progression points!
The woods ahead were deep and dense, making the long sword difficult to maneuver. Arthur gripped the unsharpened hilt of the sword in one hand and charged like a warhorse toward the direction the arrow had come from.
As the light darkened, Arthur felt his view of the front became sharper. With just a glance, he spotted the assailant hiding behind a tree trunk nearby.
It was a tall, lean man, currently notching an arrow onto his bow. His movements were incredibly practiced; any other pursuer would have run headfirst right into the arrowhead.
But Arthur's reaction and speed were far superior to an ordinary person's. Before the attacker could properly draw his bow, Arthur was already upon him.
"Cough, cough…" Before the man could react, Arthur drove the hilt of his sword hard into his chest. The entire man was sent flying over two clumps of bushes, his back smashing heavily against a tree trunk, causing the branches to shake violently.
"Why aren't you transforming? Werewolf claws should be much more effective than a bow and arrow."
Arthur did not slacken his guard. The sword tip was aimed directly at the man's throat, and his left hand was already tracing a magical sigil.
He had not held back at all on that last blow; a normal person would have suffered broken bones. Yet, this man merely coughed painfully a few times and still had the energy to struggle to his feet.
There was only one truth: he was the werewolf created by the Village Chief and Rience, which was why he possessed such a durable physique!
The man showed extraordinary toughness. He coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood and hissed:
"Kill me! I'd rather die than continue serving you bastards!"
He wasn't just talking. He was truly suicidal. He pushed off the ground with his legs and lunged toward Arthur, straight into the path of the sword tip.
This almost suicidal act was witnessed by Margareta, who had rushed up belatedly. She let out a heart-wrenching shriek of anguish:
"Brother!"
......
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