When Huckle saw what happened to his son, he took one step back and plopped down. If it weren’t for his will, he would have fainted there and then. “I-is that Berschel?” Huckle looked at Roy. The old baker was shivering, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Roy didn’t want to lie to him, so he nodded solemnly.

“Berschel! My son!” Huckle scrambled over to Berschel. He stared at his son and tried to touch his face, but Roy stopped him.

“You’d better not touch that,” Roy reminded. “It’s just going to make it more painful for him. Try calling his name. If he wakes up, tell him… tell him whatever you need to. This might be the last time.”

“What do you mean, last time? He’s going to be fine! I know he will! I’m taking him back and getting the best healer in Ellander for him!” Huckle tore at the webbing as he screamed. “Can you hear me, Berschel? Open your eyes! It’s me, Huckle! Daddy’s here!”

No matter how much Huckle tried, he couldn’t get through the webbing. It was too hard for him. Roy was about to slice it open with his sword, but then, Berschel mumbled. 

Familial love, huh? 

His eyelids twitched, and he regained consciousness.

When he saw the familiar face of his father hovering before him, Berschel could no longer contain himself. Tears streamed down his face that was filled with bulges. “H… Huc… Huckle…” He looked excited, but all he could muster was a weak mumble. Even that was enough to make him spasm from the pain.

“I’m here, son! Huckle’s here. How are you feeling?” Huckle was overjoyed that his son regained consciousness. He quickly huddled closer in an attempt to hear what Berschel was saying. “Where does it hurt? Don’t worry, son. I’ll get someone to heal you up.”

“I-it hurts…”

Huckle turned to Roy, tears still streaming down his face. “Please help me, Mr. Roy. Let’s take him back together,” he pleaded.

“I’ll give him a piggyback ride, then. We can go faster that way.” Roy looked at Berschel and hunkered down to have a closer look. He shook his head. “Put him on my back.” Roy didn’t think anyone could heal Berschel. Not even sorcerers. Sylphs are his only hope, at this point.

“I…” Berschel suddenly muttered something. “I…”

“What is it, son?”

“Emily… Emilia. Emily…”

“Who’s Emily? You want to see her? I’ll find her right after we get back to town. I swear!”

“Wh-White Rose…”

White Rose? Roy was surprised that Berschel would mention the knights when he was inches away from death. Order of the White Rose? Do they have anything to do with this?

“Calm down, son. Take a deep breath. You can talk about this when we get back to town.”

“Kill… me…”

Huckle froze and started shivering, but he forced a smile. “We’ll be in town soon. Just hold on.”

“It… hurts… Kill… me… It hurts. Kill me!”

Huckle took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He started sobbing, but he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

“He’s infested with the spider’s younglings, and he’s weakened.” Roy sighed. “Living is nothing but torture for him.” Roy told him the dark truth. “Perhaps we should free him from his misery.”

“No! You’re a witcher, Mr. Roy. You know how to save him, don’t you?” Huckle suddenly hugged Roy’s legs as he pleaded. “Please! I can give you five… No! Ten times the reward! I can give you everything! Please, just save Berschel! All I ask is for him to live!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help him,” Roy answered reluctantly. He knew he couldn’t do anything, but he wanted to see if he could help the poor family out. What would Letho do? Roy started thinking about every alternative he had. I can’t just stand here and do nothing.

“The spiders can be killed, but you won’t like the idea.” Roy cut away the webbing around Berschel. “It might even kill him quicker than the spiders would. Can you accept that?” Roy pried the webbing open and looked at Berschel’s chest. The sight made him sigh.

The same bulges appeared on his chest, rib, and belly. Obviously, the larvae were already in there, ready to hatch. The monster babies were gnawing through Berschel’s innards, nourishing themselves. Aside from the bulges, there was a clean gash on the right side of his stomach. It didn’t look like a scar from the arachnomorph, however. According to Letho’s notes, Berschel most probably got stabbed.

Ironically, the thing that stopped the bleeding was the arachnomorph’s fluid. So someone hurt him before he was taken by the monster? Roy thought back to the things Berschel had said. White Rose? Emily? Is this connected to that?

While Roy was thinking about the possible conspiracy, Huckle was contemplating whether he should go with Roy’s idea or take his son back to town. He couldn’t decide, but then his son pleaded, “Kill… me…” He was already sweating furiously from the pain. “Kill… me… Please…”

“Do it, Roy! Put him out of his misery!” Huckle yelled. “W-whatever happens, happens!”

Roy nodded and clenched his fist, then a green, long-necked bottle appeared. It was Swallow, a potion in his inventory. “Don’t freak out. This is just a little trick. See this potion? Witchers use it to heal themselves. Of course, that only applies to them, since they’ve mutated. Anyone else would end up… impaired, to put it mildly. Kills monsters too, of course.” Roy raised the potion up to observe its contents. It was a clear green shade, radiating hope and death at the same time.

“Once Berschel takes this potion, it’ll kill the spiders in his body.”

“What about Berschel, then?”

“This potion heals and poisons at the same time, but he’s too weak right now, so he might end up dying. Frankly, his chances are slim…” Roy didn’t continue. Instead, he uncorked the potion and smelled it. “Also, the spiders are going to wreak havoc for a short while after the potion comes into contact with them. It’ll make things more painful for your son. Do you still want this?” Roy stared at them solemnly.

Berschel looked up at him from the cocoon, his eyes pleading. He opened his mouth, revealing his rotten cavities and tongue. “Give… me…”

Huckle had a look of despair on his face, but he nodded. Roy did as he was asked.

Berschel gulped down the whole bottle of potion, desiring the sweet release it would bring. It was still daytime, but a deafening silence enveloped the field. Not a soul stirred, save for the young man who was breathing heavily.

Roy and Huckle stared at the poor man in silence, and Huckle sat down and put his son’s hand on his chest. He gazed at his dying son lovingly, as if the deformed face didn’t faze him. He whispered, “We’ll fish somewhere else after this, son. There’s a good spot right outside the temple. The girls always wash their clothes there. They’re really pretty. Tell me if you fancy anyone. I’ll see if I can match you two up.” Huckle sniffled. “You’ve never even held a girl’s hand before. Remember the tailor’s daughter? You blushed at the sight of her. No can do, son. You need to marry and raise a family. I want a grandkid, you hear that?”

Berschel’s face was turning green, and his face contorted. He curled up for a moment and loosened up the next. His whole body was spasming, down until his fingertips. The hatchlings under his skin were wreaking havoc in his body, desperate to flee.

A long, long time later, Berschel finally slumped, and he showed no pain anymore. Even the bulges caused by the hatchlings were starting to disappear. Aside from his greenish face, he looked just like a normal, young man.

Berschel heaved a long sigh, smiling weakly at his father. “H-Huckle…”

“I’m here, son. I’m listening.” Huckle held his son’s hands tightly, his veins popping.

“I lov…”

“What did you say, son?”

Berschel’s eyes gleamed as he put the last of his life force into that one final message. In the final moments of his life, he saw his father as a hero. Someone who stayed with him until the end. “I love you.”

“I love you too, son.” Huckle held the corpse of his son and cried painfully.

Roy watched on in silence. There were a few times he wanted to say something, but he kept quiet to let Huckle vent his sorrow.

It wasn’t until sundown that Huckle finally stood up, though he was wobbling. The sunset was radiant, but it failed to glow Huckle up. He looked pale and gaunt, as if he had aged ten years in an afternoon. He wiped his tears away with his grimy sleeve before going up to Roy. “Th-thank you, Roy. For searching for Berschel a-and killing that monster.” His voice sounded hoarse, as if something were stuck in his throat. “C-come to the b-bakery tomorrow to c-claim your reward,” he stammered.

“Sorry I couldn’t save him. And I even…”

“No. This isn’t your fault. You warned me. All I can do now is accept his fate. This is what Melitele wants.”

Roy massaged his cheeks to keep himself from crying. He mustered a consolation.“My condolences. His soul is with Melitele now.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take him back to town for you.” He looked at the corpse. “You’re injured.”

“I want to do this myself. This is the last journey.” Huckle hunkered down to take his son. The weight of the corpse almost crushed him, and the wound on his chest was torn, drenching the bandage. Even so, he gritted his teeth, going back to Ellander in silence.

Roy saw him off. For a moment, he wondered if he should’ve told Huckle about the scar he’d found on Berschel’s stomach, the one that could have been caused by a human. No. He just lost his son. He can’t take any more than that. This can wait until he settles down a little.

Roy escorted them back to the city gates, where the guards flocked to them. Since he didn’t want Tailles to harass him, Roy quickly darted back into the wilds, sprinting toward the silent darkness. There, abandoned plains and bushes grew abundant, but Roy only had eyes for the darkness ahead. Rage took over him as he recalled the scene of Berschel’s death. A fire was lit within him, and he needed to douse it.

***

It took him a long run, but he finally calmed down, though he was already in the forest by then. Roy sat down and spaced out for a while before thinking about the fight against the arachnomorph. Observe is one hell of a skill. Noticing the monster’s stats and skills before the fight gave him ample time to make the necessary preparations to face it without taking a lot of damage.

The fight also proved that strengthening his weapons was essential. If Gabriel was still the same crossbow he’d gotten in Kaer, he would’ve only had time to fire one shot before getting chased around by the monster. There wouldn’t have been any time to reload or fire a second shot. Simplify changed everything. Roy didn’t have to reload the crossbow himself, since the crossbow would do it for him. A second or third shot could mean the difference between life and death.

However, Gwyhyr was, in modern terms, the MVP in the fight. It caused a lot of damage to the monster, weakening it for the final strike. And finally, Burn ignited it from the inside out, delivering the final blow. Of course, the monster was weaker than the actual ones, so that gave him an opening to kill it. If Roy knew how to wield the sword more efficiently, the fight could have ended sooner and cleaner.

Killing the arachnomorph added one final monster type to the list. After the trial, he would level up to a rookie witcher. The only thing left for him to do was improve his crossbow skills.

Roy turned some pine trees into his targets and started training. He trained his standing and kneeling shots, as well as the pace of his breathing. Gabriel had undergone a lot of changes after the powerup. There was barely any downtime between the shots. The old training couldn’t keep up with the new fighting style, so Roy had to train profusely to improve his breathing.

***

Roy darted among the trees, his hair dancing in the wind. The night breeze brushed across his face, taking droplets of sweat away with it. Everywhere Roy went, a rain of crossbow bolts followed. Every pine tree in the area would find itself embedded with a bolt.

Time flew by as Roy trained. Before he knew it, it was already nine. He couldn’t go back to the city since it was already curfew, so he bathed in the river before climbing up a tree to meditate the night away.