Chapter 387 - 387: The Witcher in Wonderland

Beyond the mountains and across the sea lay a beautiful forest bathed in brilliant sunshine, filled with birdsong and flowers. Ancient trees towered toward the sky, enormous orange-red mushrooms dotted the landscape, emerald ferns carpeted the ground, and countless adorable animals wandered among them.

On this particular day, golden ripples suddenly spread across a clearing in the forest. The light gradually took on the shape of a person, the magnificent ripples growing brighter and brighter until they finally reached a critical point and burst apart.

The witcher made his grand entrance from within the golden light.

Opening his eyes and letting his extraordinary five senses go to work, Victor found the vividly colored scenery astonishingly lifelike. The layered sounds surrounding him had perfect depth, the breeze brushing against his face carried a pleasant coolness, and he could even smell the fresh fragrance of the forest.

The slightly damp soil beneath his boots left footprints of varying depth depending on how much force he applied. When he drew his sword and moved through several practice swings, his body responded smoothly, while casting Signs produced no obstruction whatsoever in the flow of magic.

Victor took the Eye of Nehaleni from the Endless Herbal Satchel. The illusion-breaking artifact reacted violently, proving that this entire place was an illusion, yet it was incapable of dispelling it.

Incredible!

A children's toy that the great mage Artorius Vigo had created decades ago was enough to completely broaden Victor's horizons. At the same time, it restored much of his respect for mages. The highest levels of power in the witcher's world truly could not be underestimated.

After spending a moment experiencing how real the fairy-tale world felt, the witcher sheathed his steel sword and put away the artifact. Following the yellow brick road running through the center of the grassland, he began searching for Princess Syanna, whom he had never met before.

Strolling leisurely onward, Victor passed a sign that read "Gulliver Village." At first, he didn't understand what it meant, but when he saw a group of six-inch-tall people panic at his appearance and flee into tiny houses, fond memories of Gulliver's Travels immediately surfaced in his mind.

So this was Lilliput!?

Ah, there went his childhood nostalgia...

If he hadn't come here on serious business, he would have loved to improvise a little Attack on Titan roleplay.

Unfortunately, he wasn't here to play.

Even so, Victor still managed to catch one unlucky, or perhaps lucky, little fellow. Judging from the man's exquisite clothing and handsome, dignified features, he was probably some noble prince.

Overflowing with childhood nostalgia, Victor generously treated the prince to a complimentary free-fall experience, namely the classic game of lifting a child high into the air before lowering him again.

Unfortunately, the prince proved incapable of appreciating this precious experience of weightlessness. After being safely returned to the ground, his feedback came in the form of simultaneously emptying both his bladder and bowels...

Victor's childhood dreams shattered on the spot.

Carrying an unexpected golden-brown souvenir across one palm, Victor silently left Lilliput. After washing his hand clean in a murmuring stream, the witcher climbed over a broken bridge and continued onward.

...

He had not gone much farther when he realized something was wrong.

Several mutilated dwarf corpses lay scattered across the yellow brick road. Judging from their clothing, they looked suspiciously like the Seven Dwarfs from Snow White.

Then, without warning, the ground erupted with a succession of thunderous crashes.

Four Archespores burst out of the earth beside the road.

These enormous, hideous carnivorous plants, or rather vicious, bloodthirsty sundews, were "old friends" Victor had encountered before in the outskirts of Vizima and among the vineyards of Toussaint.

They possessed several methods of attack. At close range, they could burrow underground, emerge beside their victim without warning, and swallow them whole with their enormous mouths. At longer distances, they could spit disgusting, highly poisonous fluids that inflicted corrosive damage.

However, cursed creatures like these posed absolutely no difficulty to Victor anymore.

For a witcher whose Signs possessed exceptional power, all he needed was Quen for protection and Igni to set them ablaze. Against monsters that lacked any meaningful numerical advantage, that was more than enough.

Taking a deep breath, Victor thrust his left palm forward while curling in his index finger and little finger.

"Igni!"

The Sign opened the battle, and after spending a short while on the matter, Victor cremated every last Archespore and sent them straight to heaven.

There was very little worth mentioning about the fight itself. He rolled, dodged, and blasted away, nothing particularly noteworthy. A high-intensity Igni made setting the monsters ablaze ridiculously easy.

He could deal with them effortlessly under normal circumstances, much less now, when he had filled himself to the brim with potions.

What was actually worth noting were the rules he discovered through the battle.

First, monsters in the fairy-tale world appeared to leave behind harvestable materials after death. Their tissues even felt soft, resilient, and completely tangible in his hands.

Yet none of those materials could be stored inside the Endless Herbal Satchel.

In other words, they weren't truly real.

Second, when the monsters' ranged attacks struck him, his Quen shield genuinely shattered. Taking one of those attacks directly would probably damage his armor.

After the battle, Victor also touched a tiny amount of their venom against his skin. An actual injury appeared, accompanied by the corresponding pain.

Therefore, although he still had no idea exactly how illusion and reality interacted within this realm, Victor decided to treat everything from now on as real combat.

In other words, he intended to remain completely unharmed from beginning to end.

More importantly, no matter how he looked at it, the Land of a Thousand Fables was no longer remotely suitable as a playground for little girls. Even an adult could easily die here within minutes.

Anarietta certainly had nerves of steel to dare imprison her sister in a place like this.

...

With his vigilance heightened, the witcher quickened his pace along the yellow brick road.

Fortunately, he encountered no more monsters.

Before long, he spotted a stone marker labeled "Gingerbread House," and from some distance away, he could already hear two women arguing.

"You ugly old hag, I said let him out!"

"Absolutely not! He ate all my gingerbread, so I'm going to eat him! Zehahahahaha!"

Anyone who laughed like that obviously wasn't a good person.

Victor immediately pushed through the bushes and shoved open a crude wooden gate.

The gingerbread house from his childhood memories appeared before his eyes.

His extraordinary senses immediately analyzed the carefully constructed cottage, complete with windows and chimney. Its walls were made from crisp biscuits flavored with ginger, cloves, and cinnamon, then sweetened with sugar and honey.

The wind chimes and flowers were made from cake, while the roof was coated in fine, snow-like icing and decorated with candy canes and swirling cream.

The entire sweet and beautiful arrangement was practically flawless.

Children would love it, and frankly, so would plenty of adults.

After admiring the gingerbread house, Victor finally turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

The place where this work of art had been made was undoubtedly the enormous oven beside it.

The oven was hemispherical, looking like an overturned cooking pot resting on the ground, or perhaps a tiny yurt.

A "beautiful" woman dressed in black trousers was slamming herself against the baking oven, trying to force open its locked iron door.

The reason Victor described her as beautiful was because those black trousers were skintight, displaying the curves of her backside to absolute perfection.

Viewed from behind, her figure carried all the alluring rhythm of a mature woman.

Beside the woman in black stood an "old witch," who warned in a raspy voice, "Stop that, my sweet little darling. Keep making me angry and you'll regret it!"

The reason Victor described her as an old witch was quite simple.

She had an extraordinarily, ridiculously long hooked nose, an absurdly protruding chin, a face covered in wrinkles, and two sagging apple cheeks adorned with warts.

Anyone asked to imagine a witch would probably picture her face.

"Listen, Wicked Witch, you have to open it!" The woman, whom Victor suspected was Syanna, put one hand on her hip and shouted after failing to break open the oven door.

The Wicked Witch sneered and was just about to answer when their argument was interrupted by a deliberate cough.

Standing nearby was a young man with his arms folded across his chest.

He wore heavy armor, carried two swords across his back, bore four scars across his face, and had an amused smile on his lips.

The moment the woman in black got a clear look at him, her expression changed slightly.

Meanwhile, the Wicked Witch, who was clutching a soup pot, revealed a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"Oho, what have we here? A lost traveler? You shouldn't be here, dear."

Then her gaze traveled across Victor's body.

"But just look at that young, sturdy flesh. Tsk, tsk! Nice and chewy, I'll bet. Rub on a little butter, sprinkle on some spices, roast it just right... Oh, you'd be delicious!"

With that, the witch raised one hand.

A broom lying in the distance shot through the air and flew straight into her palm.

Drooling, she began shambling toward the young man.

Victor raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks for the compliment, but I'm actually rather picky. I have absolutely no desire to let some old, ugly woman take a bite out of me."

The witcher drew his silver sword.

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