Chapter 58: A Sultry Summer Forest Bath

For reasons unknown, the commander of the Squirrel Party, Ivan, personally accompanied the troupe on their monster hunt today. He brought only two subordinates as escorts, and along the way, they and Angoulême maintained a silent understanding, refraining from joining the exchanges between the “leader” and the “captain.”

Later, Angoulême would say that these cryptic, enigmatic conversations were barely comprehensible as human speech.

As they traveled, rays of sunlight pierced through gaps in the clouds and the sheltering canopy, casting a gentle warmth upon Ivan and Victor.

Victor’s face was wreathed in smiles: “…Do you realize? Your presence as a guide puts a lot of pressure on us, especially my young member—she’s still just a girl, not very worldly, and you make her quite nervous.”

—Why did you come yourself?

Ivan was evidently in high spirits as well. “Oh… I’m afraid I can’t help with that. In fact, I consider myself a rather refined sort, at least I don’t have any scars. Purely by looks… perhaps you’re the more intimidating one.” His tone was cheerful, teasing.

—I don’t wish to tell you.

The elf wore lightweight hunting armor today, his gaunt cheeks touched with a smile, his long brown eyes betraying little emotion.

The captain and the commander chatted animatedly along the way, both clearly enjoying the conversation, as if they were old friends who had met too late.

…

“To me… it is like a flower.

An ugly, nauseating flower.

— The last words of Blasco Ternav.”

…

At a distance of ninety feet from the unknown plant ahead—about the length of a basketball court—Ivan raised his hand, signaling the group of five to halt.

“Vic, is this thing really the Giant Thorn Demon Tree? It’s nothing like what the books describe… Who would have to be so foolish to approach it and get eaten?” Angoulême asked in disbelief.

“Hmm…” Not only the girl but Victor himself was a bit stunned; it was his first time seeing such a creature. Its appearance was reminiscent of the man-eating flower from Mario, except its petals were sharpened into blades, and its supple stem allowed it to swing and slash, turning it into an aggressive weapon.

He glanced sideways at Ivan, silently asking, “Are you sure you haven’t led us astray?”

Facing Victor’s doubtful look, the elf nodded with certainty. “Yes, don’t doubt it! This thing is indeed the Giant Thorn Demon Tree.”

Was it named so simply because its hide was a nauseating glossy brown? Why not call it the Giant Thorn Man-Eater? Its appearance was far removed from any normal tree.

“So, just how stupid must someone be to approach such a bizarre creature and get attacked?” The question seemed too obvious; Victor couldn’t help but repeat the girl’s inquiry.

The elf crossed his hands over his chest. “Two reasons. First, the demon tree is nocturnal. Its range is much greater at night than during the day. Under sunlight, it’s easy to spot; under moonlight, much harder to distinguish.”

Next, Ivan pointed to a square-shaped hole about a foot wide before them. “Second, this is its secret to rapid movement—burrows created by underground stems.

Centered on its current location, there are many such holes within a ninety-foot radius. When it activates its hunting mode, it can easily move in and out of these burrows to launch attacks.”

Hmm… that made much more sense. Squatting to observe the hole for a while, Victor scraped a small amount of sticky residue off the inner wall with a wooden shard for collection, then stood up again.

Shaking his head, the witcher apprentice said, “It’s not quite what I expected. Reading the books, I assumed it was rooted in place. Clearly, my preparations are insufficient. Perhaps we’ll have to call it a day—I need to return to the city for better equipment.”

Ivan’s expression showed mild surprise, then he smiled. “Is that so? But since you came, you must have prepared something. Won’t you let me witness the witcher’s methods?”

Considering Ivan’s request, Victor removed the long bundle from his back, unwrapped the oilcloth, and revealed a rod-shaped object. “Then let’s deal with it. If you want to watch, go ahead—the method is much the same. I don’t believe you haven’t used fire-oil arrows from a distance before.”

He unfolded it slowly; the rod turned out to be an iron umbrella, fitted with grounding supports. Its spread was large enough to fully shield a person behind it, and the canopy was smeared with a glossy substance of unknown origin.

“Step back, all of you…” the witcher apprentice said.

He then took several packets of powder, mixed them, and sprinkled them evenly into the nearest burrow. He tore white paper into strips for a fuse, stretching it from the hole to behind the umbrella. He explained to Ivan, “This is ‘Dancing Star’ powder—a secret witcher formula for a burning agent.”

Once everyone was safely behind cover, the youth picked up a stone and hurled it from afar. The awakened Giant Thorn Demon Tree suddenly dove underground with a resounding thud.

Its first subterranean attack missed, emerging at some distance and only able to spit a few blobs of acid, which were blocked by the iron umbrella. On its second attempt, it burst out from the burrow where burning powder had been scattered—its doom.

Ivan smiled at the outcome. This instinct-driven hunting plant was ferocious, but lacked intelligence. Once engulfed in flames, it didn’t try to burrow and extinguish the fire, but fell into a frenzy, struggling until it was reduced to ashes.

It didn’t take long for the demon tree’s fiery torch to burn out. The elf emerged from behind cover, applauding energetically. “Beautiful! That was a real success. You seem not to need further preparation—you can deal with them efficiently, can’t you?”

Victor shook his head again. “No… it was a total failure. I needed to collect demon tree sap and tendrils as materials. Burning it like this is useless to me.”

“Haha, I see—it’s a difference in perspective. For me, gathering materials isn’t important; solving the demon tree is key. You did alone what would require a squad of archers for us. Truly a witcher—an expert in combating monsters.”

At being praised again, Victor insisted seriously, “Apprentice… I’m still just an apprentice.”

…

Before long, they watched Ivan and his two companions depart, and Angoulême stretched, relaxing as she caught Catherine’s playful antics. “Heh, they’re not bad people at all! They’re quite helpful, only asking us for a little favor.”

Stowing the letter Ivan entrusted to him before leaving, Victor scoffed, “…Trust me, everyone is decent—as long as you have no conflicting interests with them.”

“No conflicting interests…?” Angoulême rolled her eyes, then asked, “Now that they’re gone, what do we do next? Are we really going to the lumber camp?”

“Of course. I wanted to visit the lumber camp anyway—it’s not just a pretext to act separately from them.”

He waved Catherine off for a stroll, and Angoulême looked at Victor with a serious expression, her thick eyebrows knotted, which made Victor laugh.

“Pfft! What’s this, what are you thinking now?”

The girl glared at her erratic captain. “…I’m wondering… Vic, why don’t you trust Ivan, or Jacques? Why is it that my instincts don’t warn me about them, but you remain reserved?”

Victor collected the demon tree’s acid in a vial, rewrapped the iron umbrella in its oilcloth, and hoisted the bundle on his back, signaling for her to walk as they talked.

“Perhaps they truly pose no harm to us now, so your instincts don’t warn you. I simply never fully trust any ‘Hansa’ leader, that’s all.

As for telling Jacques I’m a ‘cat person,’ and not showing Ivan the ‘Dancing Star’ bomb, the logic is simpler—I don’t want to appear too valuable.

In my hometown, Bell Town, there’s a proverb: ‘Wealth calls the thief.’

Since I wish to study quietly for a time in Vygima, and now that I’m in their sights, we should keep ourselves useful—but not too conspicuous.”