For traveling outdoors, it was always best to follow a stream.
John set up camp by the water, feeling a pang of nostalgia for his fully automated luxury tent.
Unfortunately, none of those magical items worked here.
With a snap of his fingers over the collected firewood, a campfire flared to life.
John could push himself to travel nonstop for a day and night, but his horse couldn't.
Boro stayed quietly by a tree, grazing.
Being deaf had its pros and cons.
For instance, it made him prone to ignoring his master's commands.
But that wasn't a real problem for John, since he could communicate through mind magic.
It ensured Boro wouldn't be startled by outside noise and made him even more obedient.
Leaning against a tree, John wove a bed out of vines.
He lay there, gazing up at the stars.
"The monolith, huh."
His thoughts were still circling around the research in Black Hawk Tower.
Those Independent wizards had treated the monolith as their secret weapon of research—clearly, it wasn't something simple.
"Dream trials… there really are all kinds of interesting things here."
So far, everything John had encountered in the dream trial was completely different from what he studied at Hogwarts.
Kingdoms, witchers, wizards, the Black Tower, blood fiends, the monolith…
It also gave John the chance to learn things beyond witcher knowledge.
Like runes, for instance.
He opened his satchel, revealing several books written in runes.
At Hogwarts, runes were usually just used for translation exams.
But as an ancient language, runes held tremendous power within them.
These books contained records far more detailed than anything in the Hogwarts library.
It wasn't that Hogwarts lacked quality—rather, with runes, the older the sources, the greater the value.
He had even found books written by goblins.
Those could greatly aid his mastery of runes while also refining his alchemy.
…
The sky was just beginning to lighten.
John put out the campfire and rode north.
Unlike other witchers, John carried himself with far too much ease.
He never lacked money, while the rest of them, thanks to their profession, were so poor they were practically down to their last pair of trousers.
Wild beasts were common along the stream.
"Keep moving. Before long, there'll be a small town."
John calculated the distance, estimating it would take another four days to reach it.
He studied the map, noting the marked distances and the taverns scattered in small settlements.
He couldn't help but suspect that the innkeeper who'd sold him the map belonged to some kind of organization. In a time without communication networks, how could such detailed maps even exist?
As he pressed forward, the forest slowly shifted to a greener shade, as though winter were giving way.
That day, John stopped to rest. The stream still carried a trace of icy chill.
He felled a dead tree, the crash startling a flock of white birds into flight.
Boro was bent over the stream drinking, deafness keeping him oblivious to the noise.
John cut the tree into firewood, smoke rising as it burned.
He skewered a few fish he'd caught in the stream—he had never been one for eating raw.
As the fish roasted over the flames, the rich scent of meat drifted out into the air.
John ate two of them, his appetite sharpened by days of travel.
He tossed the fish bones back into the stream, a small offering to the little fish that lived there.
Just as he was about to leave, he felt a tremor rippling through the ground from afar.
Crouching, he fixed his eyes on the pebbles bouncing at his feet.
When he looked up again, a massive bear barreled through the trees, smoke and dust trailing in its wake.
Its fur was a deep brown, and even the sound of its charge was enough to chill the blood.
As it drew closer, the sight of its hulking body made the pressure even more visceral.
It stood easily over three meters tall, one massive paw swiping down to snap a tree in half as though it were a twig.
John swung into the saddle without hesitation, urging Boro to race along the stream.
The horse's hooves pounded the soil, leaving deep prints behind, while the bear chased relentlessly.
John steered toward the forest, using the narrow paths to push his mount to greater speed.
But the bear simply smashed through trees, cutting straight across in a brutal shortcut, and managed to appear ahead of him on the rugged trail.
The beast loomed in front, yet instead of slowing down, John spurred Boro faster.
Any other horse might have frozen in terror before the charging bear.
But Boro, deaf to the roar and crashing trees, only quickened her pace, charging straight.
The bear raised one massive paw, ready to crush the two small figures beneath it.
John drew the sword from his back, its three glowing runes gleaming brilliantly under the sunlight.
When Boro closed the distance, John let go of the reins and gripped the sword with both hands.
He twisted from the waist, gathering all his strength, and swung.
Swoosh!
The silver arc cut through the air faster than the horse, slicing cleanly across the beast's coarse hide just before the paw could land.
Blood spattered as the bear bellowed in fury.
"ROAR—!"
The strike hadn't killed it—its hide was monstrously tough.
The bear smashed a boulder taller than a man into shards, sending them hurtling toward John.
John pulled his wand in an instant, casting a Shield Charm to block the barrage.
Then he leapt from the saddle, soaring toward the bear.
With his sword reversed in one hand, he aimed straight for its eye.
The great bear sensed the danger and reared up, both paws poised to crush John into the ground.
John raised his wand, aimed at its legs, and cast the Leg-Locker Curse!
The beast's stance collapsed instantly, its hind legs buckling. It crashed down awkwardly, barely catching itself with its forepaws.
Just as it lifted its head, the silver blade filled its vision—then pierced through its eye, driving straight into its brain.
The agony made the bear thrash violently, and John was flung aside.
He twisted midair and landed hard, while the creature staggered, the sword lodged deep in its skull.
Half a minute later, the bear finally collapsed.
The clearing lay in ruin—trees shattered, a dozen or more snapped like twigs.
"This thing really was stubbornly alive," John muttered, stepping forward to wrench the silver sword free.
The blade had sunk in to the hilt. When he pulled it loose, he noticed the fourth rune along its length was now glowing.
"Another trial boss?" He couldn't help his surprise.
It felt as though his trial kept advancing on its own, step by step.
Glancing at the carcass, he considered, Maybe I can sell this for some coin.
With less than a day's travel to the next town, John took some time to skin the bear before moving on.
...
Castle, by the spring.
"The forest bear—he's finally faced a proper trial," Alexei remarked with emotion.
Among the Jovonovich, quite a few had gone through this particular test, Seriozha included.
Most, when facing the bear, preferred to wear it down with roundabout tactics.
Charging in head-on the way John did? Other than that reckless brute Boris, hardly anyone ever tried it.
"A sharp move, though—he knew the bear's weak spot was its hind legs," Seriozha praised.
"The real question is how far Yadani can go," Andrei added.
By this point, John had already met the requirements of the dream trial.
Surviving three trials was enough to bring it to an end.
But if one didn't end it voluntarily, the trial would simply keep going.
The Jovonovich were eager to see just how far John could push forward—and even more curious which bloodline path he would awaken to.
While they speculated, John finally arrived at a town.
...
The town was called Blaviken.
After entering, John's first priority was to find lodging.
After spending several days outdoors, John needed to replenish his supplies.
He left Boro in the stable, then stepped into the tavern.
Taverns were always the best places to pick up information—Hogsmeade was no exception.
"..The Tuna Tavern?"
Looking at this building, clearly more refined than those around it, John couldn't help but reflect on how plain wizards tended to be.
He still couldn't figure out why the Hog's Head's owner never bothered to clean the place.
Pushing the door open, the creak was swallowed up by the noise inside.
John was dressed in a set of black robes he'd bought in Konsang before leaving.
That attire made him stand out a little in the tavern, drawing several curious glances.
First at the black robes—then at the silver sword, half-visible at his side.
A woman noticed it, her hand pausing briefly on her cup before her eyes shifted up to his face.
John caught that someone was watching him, but he paid it no mind.
These days of living like a swordsman had given him a bit of wildness.
Crossing the room, he went straight up to the tavernkeeper.
"Hot food. Nothing cold."
John was still carrying the bearskin he had stripped from the giant bear. He asked, "Do you know where I can sell this?"
The tavernkeeper's eyes widened at the sight. "Good heavens—you killed that forest demon?"
"Happened to run into it." John shrugged, setting the pelt on the table. The tavern instantly fell silent.
"No need to sell it. If you're short on money, you can claim a bounty for it."
A voice, smooth and intoxicating like fine red wine, drifted over. John turned his head to see a woman smiling at him over the rim of her cup.
"If you don't know the way, I can guide you." She lifted her glass. "Renfri. You must be that man from the stories, aren't you?"
"The Black Witcher—Yadani."
________
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