My scalp went numb.
The soul remnant represented the form this person—this witcher—had in life. So, the witcher had been remade into this? A closer look revealed it was a forced patchwork of various distorted lumps of flesh, from which incongruous, uncoordinated limbs protruded. Its face was somewhere on the flesh-ball, pressed to the ground, its features impossible to discern.
It was too tragic. Any normal person would feel a chill run up from the soles of their feet.
Frozen in place, Melina even forgot to maintain the glow of the Minor Erdtree. The wisp of warmth that dissipated finally prompted the white soul to speak:
"N-no, not the jar. Absolutely not."
"I won't do it again, I really won't. I swear to the heavens, I'll be a 'good person'."
"Please, spare me..."
Frieren clasped her hands and half-knelt in a priest's bow, chanting as she released a soul-blessing of grace, hoping to at least offer the witcher's soul a sliver of protection.
At some point, the Mimic Tear had also appeared at the entrance, its expression one of shock and its eyes ice-cold.
All three were stunned by the Horned Folks' actions. Their first thought wasn't anger, but disbelief. Could there truly be people in this world who knew no mercy?
Terrifying.
Humans are, after all, social animals. A shared moral foundation is part of what provides a sense of security in society. The Horned Folk had shattered, even trampled, this moral protection with utter insult and disregard. The horror was heart-stopping.
Ghosts and monsters weren't frightening; a collapsed morality was. The Horned Folks' ritual of turning people who were completely different into so-called "good people" was truly horrifying.
A moment later, Frieren finished her soul purification. As she watched the white spirit dissipate, she said:
"They didn't spare you."
"—So I won't spare them either."
All people have a capacity for compassion, but the Horned Folk did not. Their various actions sent a shudder through even her, a woman who had seen much.
Even the blue monsters of Seath the Scaleless were byproducts of magical research, not created with the express purpose of torturing people. These Horned Folk were worse than him, utterly reprehensible.
Even setting aside the Erdtree system's stance of rejecting those who tamper with souls, there was a basic morality, a reluctance to see the witchers in such a miserable state.
"Let's go. There must be survivors ahead."
Frieren patted the shoulder of a praying Melina, who then shakily rose to her feet.
The soul remnant's lingering obsession had not been in vain. It gave the three of them a clear signal: what, exactly, was the soul aura of a victim tortured by the potting ritual? With this, they could filter their perception.
So many.
"What beasts. They're worse than Astel, Stars of Darkness." The Mimic Tear's still-nascent experience was shaken. "This filth should not be allowed to remain and plague The Lands Between."
Melina pointed in a certain direction. "Someone over there has lifted the seal on a jar."
The group hurried over.
And then they saw a scene they had braced for but were still shocked by: a living ball of flesh, writhing inside a jar.
It had no skin, its raw flesh directly touching the frigid prison. How agonizing must that be? The muscle tissue, blue veins, and blood vessels were clearly visible, pulsating as if breathing. Faintly, one could discern delicate, out-of-place limbs and a blindfolded face.
The woman's long hair was disheveled, her expression pained. Even in this state—one could see a trace of the witcher's beauty.
She could not see, but when she looked up, everyone felt her plea:
"Let me die..."
Frieren lightly touched the center of her brow, causing the victim to fall into a deep sleep. At the same time, a brilliant golden light bloomed, which she cupped in her hands and raised into the air.
Sun Healing, maximized.
The unprecedented power of the healing magic formed a small sun, illuminating every corner of the Belurat Gaol. It spread its healing light through the central chasm, warm and serene. The pained whispers on the wind gradually faded.
She extended a hand to Melina and said:
"This ability is primarily based on soul energy; it's not native to The Lands Between. Let's activate the Minor Erdtree together again. That's what's most suitable for the witchers."
"I'll be fine, but can you handle this level of consumption?"
"Right now, my role is that of a priest. In my homeland, the more a priest saves others, the more they receive the goddess's gaze. The blessings will only grow stronger."
"Alright, then."
Frieren cared little for this level of exertion; acting on her principles was what mattered.
Now Melina understood why the world's strongest healing magic belonged to her partner. It was because qualities like mercy, compassion, and strength were all embodied within her, and magic would answer the will of its caster.
She freed one hand to cup the Minor Erdtree with the witch. It instantly grew to over ten meters, continuing to expand—
This was no longer a "Minor" Erdtree; it was clearly about to pierce through the entire gaol.
As expected, some faint life signatures immediately began to recover. At the same time, a serene, purifying power emanated, causing the witchers to drift into tranquility.
The warm Erdtree was like a mother's embrace.
No one but Melina could manifest this quality, full of comfort, acceptance, and purity, which was why Frieren had entrusted her with the task. One healed the soul, the other the body—a guaranteed cure, or at the very least, an alleviation of their suffering.
Frieren herself didn't lack healing magic, but it was essentially brute-forcing a miracle, not as refined as that of the Golden Lineage's scion.
Besides, her powers were too mixed. For such fragile victims, the blessings of the Erdtree system were the best choice.
Hah!
The two energies converged, forming a greater ripple of healing. The chill of the Belurat Gaol was dispelled, replaced by a warmth that induced a sense of drowsiness.
But the Mimic Tear was more alert than anyone.
It was responsible for standing guard, lest some fool try to launch a sneak attack.
Any Horned Folk that appeared in its perception was shown no mercy. Before the tracking-enhanced night sorceries, they had nowhere to hide and died one after another. This kind of filth was not worthy of dirtying her mother's hands; she would clean them up first.
The Mimic Tear killed with relish. In the end, it was all about collecting Runes, and these guys were worth a fair bit.
A moment later...
The two finally ceased their healing magic.
Melina let out a long breath and leaned against a wall. The exertion was greater than she'd imagined, though that was also because she had tried her utmost to expand the Erdtree's range. Its phantom image now lingered in the center of the gaol, its aftereffects set to last for a while.
Frieren, in contrast, looked completely fine, not even flushed or out of breath. One couldn't tell she had just used both the Minor Erdtree and Sun Healing simultaneously.
She knelt on the ground, using magic to lift the victim fully out of the jar.
A closer look revealed clear marks from a serrated whip. At the wound sites, the flesh had fused with other lumps, repeatedly whipped and repeatedly fused, until it finally took on the shape of a fleshy mass, sealed away under the name of "becoming a good person."
Unable to see, hear, or move, the transformation into a flesh-ball was further accelerated.
This was difficult.
Frieren was not skilled in this area. At this moment, she really wanted to grab Seath the Scaleless and interrogate him; he knew this trade.
She could only try to figure out a way to separate the mutated flesh herself.
Although she had successfully halted the flesh-ball's deterioration, the victim couldn't live in this form. Their limbs were uncoordinated, not to mention the violation of their dignity.
A tormented consciousness would soon go hollow.
The Horned Folks' potting ritual had stopped this process, replacing it with the fusion of flesh. Now that Frieren and Melina had liberated the witchers, the danger of hollowing returned. If their bodies weren't cured, they would become monsters all the same.
The situation was urgent.
She carefully stroked the skinless flesh. It was slick and thick, full of discordance.
But the pain was real. Even such a light touch made the sleeping witcher tremble.
"Well? Any good ideas?"
"Magical restoration is too difficult. It would be best to use a more physical surgical approach, excising large areas of abnormal flesh. It will definitely cause massive trauma, so we'll have to use blessings and healing to forcibly pull them back from the brink of death. It's very troublesome, we'll have to do it one by one, and they'll need pre-treatment conditioning."
Frieren added, "I'm not the best choice for surgery. It would be more fitting to have the grafting artisans do it; they are the only ones for the job."
"The healing process itself is manageable. We can use the life secrets of the Queen of the Full Moon and the Great Runes. Four shards should be enough."
She refused to believe that the power of half the Elden Ring couldn't save them.
"I'll follow your lead."
Melina nodded like a chick pecking at grain, her face full of anticipation. Since the "Guardian" (Frieren) had given her word, it would surely be done. So far, there was nothing in the world she couldn't do.
Even with a ritual as horrifying as the Horned Folks', there was always a solution.
However, the silver-haired girl shook her head again.
"It's not that simple. How can we move hundreds, even thousands, of people on a large scale while in this isolated state? Even if we could, we can't guarantee they wouldn't be affected while passing through the barrier. In their fragile condition, it would be suicide."
"Bringing the grafting artisans here would also be difficult; there's a seal in place."
"More pressingly, there's the immediate issue of housing them. Where can we ensure so many people are safe and cared for?"
The two had an answer in mind.
During their previous interactions with the crusade army, they had heard that Messmer had treated some witchers in the Shadow Keep. He must despise the potting ritual as much as they did.
Unfortunately, he didn't know about the Belurat Gaol, and the Tower Settlement was easy to defend and hard to attack.
Contacting the primary power in the Land of Shadow was the only option.
"But the highly organized main force of the crusade army is in the north," Melina said, also looking troubled. "It would be too slow for them to travel back and forth, plus the time for deployment. We need to choose the nearest organized army."
Previous major operations were all accomplished with massive armies. Now, alone, even a quasi-monarch would have a hard time getting things done.
They both thought of one person, who was theoretically a closer relation.
Rellana.
In terms of distance, Ensis Castle wasn't far. It also guarded a key transportation hub, a place of strategic importance, serving as the gateway to the crusade army's main camp and controlling the major roads.
It symbolized the Golden Army's control.
As long as the three of them moved quickly through the Land of Shadow now, they could save conquering the Shadow Keep for later, but they couldn't bypass Ensis Castle. They would have to communicate with its occupants sooner or later; it would be impossible to hide from the surveillance of a major military fortress. Even infiltrating alone would be inconvenient.
Besides, a monarch's style was never to sneak around. Since she had arrived and announced her presence, she intended to conquer.
Melina glanced with a complicated expression at the index finger of Frieren's left hand, where the Spectral Steed Whistle was—a symbol known to all in The Lands Between.
And on her middle finger was another significant token.
"With the Dark Moon Ring and your Darkmoon Greatsword, it shouldn't be difficult to get the Carian army to help."
They first needed the native forces of the Land of Shadow to settle the witchers. Delaying the patients' treatment was not an option.
That being said, both of them felt it wouldn't go smoothly, as the situation was complex.
Stationed at Ensis Castle was Rellana, Twin Moon Knight.
She was the sister of the Queen of the Full Moon (Rennala) and the aunt of Ranni (the Witch). It seemed they were related, but back then, she had completely followed Messmer, leading an elite Carian unit to join the expedition, sparking rumors of infatuation.
Although the sisters' respective romances had been blessed by each other and their relationship was close, so much time had passed that it was hard to judge her stance now.
"The Dark Moon Ring and the Darkmoon Greatsword might be less of a proof to Rellana and more of a provocation."
"How so?"
"You ask so directly. Still, you are who you are." A cunning glint flashed in the maiden's single eye. "In any case, as long as we have a place to go, let's liberate these jars first."
"Right. We'll have to clear the path through Ensis Castle sooner or later anyway."
She didn't forget to share her restorative power with her companions. Melina, who had been quite drained, recovered, while the Mimic Tear was brimming with fighting spirit. What followed was a foregone conclusion; the three demigods easily fought their way to the depths of the gaol.
The Horned Folk along the way were eliminated without exception, while the sinner's jars below grew more numerous.
In The Lands Between, they were the final resting places for heroic warriors. In the Land of Shadow, they were regarded as vessels for sinners by a malevolent civilization. Come to think of it, Radahn's remains were also collected by a Warrior Jar.
Alexander was an excellent Warrior Jar. Entrusting things to him was reassuring. His dutiful and enterprising spirit had left a deep impression on Frieren; they would meet again.
As for Morgott, forget him.
It was fine to trade away the corpse of a sworn enemy, but it made one wonder: would Miquella use the Horned Folks' techniques on Morgott's remains? For instance, as a medium for necromancy?
This bunch of great villains were inept at everything else, but quite adept at soul manipulation.
As Frieren was pondering this, she suddenly noticed a large jar not far away trembling slightly...
Amidst a piercing scream, a witcher suddenly lunged at her, the fleshy ball on her body even extending to form a large mouth that snapped at her.
She easily evaded an attack of this level. Moreover, after a single move, the opponent collapsed to the ground, snoring loudly, though the deformed flesh-lump was truly astonishing.
Melina leaned down to check and then reported.
"Unfortunately, her fusion is too severe and she's controlled by madness. This must be her final swansong. Even with our combined magic, we can't save the most severe cases. They've long since lost themselves."
"Indeed. I can feel her soul shattering. A part of it was likely absorbed by the Horned Folk."
"They like to absorb souls, don't they? Then let them all die by soul magic," the Mimic Tear said through gritted teeth.
Especially that Grace-Given King.
In its eyes, its mother's first opponent was Morgott.
Since Marika (Golden Order) didn't do a thorough job, and Messmer (Royal Capital), who was ordered to carry out the extermination, wasn't thorough either, then it would handle things more cleanly. The other two remained noncommittal.
They basically defaulted to the Mimic Tear's decision, allowing it to completely clear out all the Horned Folk within their perception.
In fact, the gaol beneath where the three stood was their last major stronghold.
Not counting the sealed spiral tower, after this battle, they were destined for extinction.
_____
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