The man seemed to choke, hoisted the leather bag, and turned to leave.
Tika watched the man’s retreating figure disappear into the forest. She calmly walked to the base of a tree and sat down. Not long after, she saw the man return, dragging a wild deer.
Drawing a dagger from his waist, the man skillfully gutted the prey, cleaned it, and set it up to roast over the campfire.
Tika sat by the campfire without any reservation, her eyes intently fixed on the glistening roasted deer meat.
The man, looking at the unreserved Tika, became somewhat agitated. "I'll take you to the nearest village tomorrow. The tax collector will send you back to your family."
"Where is this?" Tika retorted.
"The eastern border of the Kingdom of Cintra. Beyond this lies the Blue Mountains."
Although the impatience in his tone did not lessen at all, the man still answered Tika's question.
Recalling these place names repeatedly and confirming that she had truly never heard of them, Tika couldn't help but close her eyes to communicate with the world's laws.
The laws of this world were unprecedentedly silent. The consciousness of the laws was mechanical and rigid. No matter how Tika stimulated the laws, they did not respond.
Fortunately, the power of the magic network could be used normally in this world, and Tika, who had descended as an avatar, was safe.
After much effort, the laws remained in their sluggish, lazy state, as if they were certain that Tika wouldn't truly oppose the world. It was as if they were directly telling Tika, "Do whatever you want; it's my loss if I pay attention to you."
Tika had never encountered such a lazy world law and could only reluctantly leave the world's origin.
Opening her eyes again, the man in front of her had already set Tika aside and was heartily feasting.
"Thank you for your help. I still don't know your name."
Out of politeness, Tika asked the stranger's name.
The man paused, then threw the meat-cutting dagger to Tika.
"Lambert, a Witcher from Kaer Morhen."
The dagger, flying at her, was caught steadily by Tika. The Witcher's test had achieved its intended effect. Tika, with an unruffled expression, smiled and sliced off a piece of the browned venison to taste.
"I am Tika, a traveler who fell from the sky."
"A traveler? Aren't you a sorceress from Thanedd Island?"
The Witcher Lambert seemed very sure of his guess, his amber eyes particularly bright in the firelight.
Sorceress? It seemed to be a profession similar to a mage. Tika silently noted the name and shook her head, denying it. "I am not the sorceress you speak of, but I can confirm that I come from another world."
Lambert's furrowed brow slowly relaxed. "Conjunction of spheres? The last one was fifteen hundred years ago. This is a rare occurrence. The Lodge of Sorceresses and the Brotherhood of Mages wouldn't miss such an opportunity."
"Traveler, for everyone's safety, you need to come with me!"
Tika had no objections. No matter where the Witcher took her, it was better than aimlessly wandering alone.
As night fell, the firelight illuminated pairs of dark eyes in the darkness. Forest beasts, attracted by the smell of deer meat, circled the campfire.
The Witcher sat by the campfire, his eyes closed, seemingly asleep yet not.
Tika looked around and walked to a tall oak tree, reaching out and tapping the trunk twice.
The oak tree stirred, its roots pulling out to form an archway leading to a hidden room. Warm light spilled from the archway. As Tika entered, the roots forming the archway retracted back into the earth, as if nothing had happened.
The morning sun streamed down from the mountaintop. This treacherous mountain range originated from the direction of the rising sun and extended far to the south.
Tika and Lambert were in a valley. Unlike the swamp where she had landed, the trees here grew luxuriantly, nourished by the rain. Giant trees, several people's embraces wide, were everywhere. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, reminding the slumbering traveler to wake up quickly.
To the northeast of the mountain range, on a flat slope near the river valley, faint wisps of smoke could be seen.
It seemed that because Tika had not taken the opportunity to escape last night, Lambert's attitude had noticeably softened.
Seeing the traveler, who had arrived due to the conjunction of spheres, emerge from beneath the tree roots, the Witcher showed no surprise. He quietly started a campfire and shared the leftover deer meat from last night with Tika. After extinguishing the embers with river water, Lambert rolled up the intact deer hide and placed it under his belt. The peculiar scent, having settled overnight, emanated from the leather bag.
Tika had to erect a wind-breaking barrier before they could set off.
Leaving the valley and approaching the plains, the trees here also grew vigorously. Stands of fir and oak were most common, interspersed with cypresses and scattered fruit trees. Unfortunately, most of the leaves had already been dyed shades of orange and yellow, and the fruits from the fruit trees had long since fallen to the ground and been eaten by animals.
However, some of the trees and shrubs under the shade still retained some fruit. Wild blueberries were found everywhere, and these sweet and sour fruits attracted quite a few bears to forage.
Lambert's pace slowed. He watched the movements under the shade, his right hand already resting on the hilt of his sword behind his back.
To the Witcher's surprise, these bears, eager to store fat for hibernation, avoided the advancing pair, unlike their usual irritable behavior.
Lambert's eyes involuntarily glanced at the woman behind him, understanding immediately why.
"I believe you're not a sorceress now. You're more like a druid."
In the Witcher's view, sorcerers were arrogant and dismissive of Witchers. Druids, on the other hand, were stubborn and old-fashioned traditionalists. While not as self-important as sorcerers, their lengthy speeches made anyone reluctant to spend time with them.
Tika did not respond. She was immersed in the active elemental tides, attempting to construct spells with them.
Lambert did not press further. This contract had cost him dearly. His horse of two years had run away, not to mention the wasted decoctions and damaged silver sword. He and the client had plenty of accounts to settle.
The place where the smoke was rising was a town of moderate size. Protected by a sturdy wooden fence, it presented a pastoral scene.
The guards, seeing two figures in the distance, quickly blew their horns to report to the guard captain.
They watched the approaching Witcher with fearful eyes and, under the guard captain's orders, reluctantly opened the gate.
The well-dressed guard captain was corpulent. The feather on his hat did not make him appear distinguished but rather comical.
He looked at the stinking Witcher with disdain and, standing far away, shouted, "Witcher, have you completed your contract?"