The Witcher: Astartes Of The Bear School

Chapter 67: Handling the Aftermath

In truth, Phillip's soldiers didn't need to lift a finger to help—White had already found his way to Lan on his own. 

This was the slavers' main base, and every soldier knew it. Here, adults might be threats, but children were just cargo. So, when White anxiously searched for Lan in the camp, the soldiers busy collecting heads didn't bother him. 

These men were seasoned veterans—cunning, ruthless, and brutal—but they were still part of the official forces, with official identities. They didn't engage in heinous acts like child trafficking or murder. 

Even though White trembled as he walked past the corpses, nearly vomiting from the sight, he managed to reach the port under the cover of night. 

Phillip's torch marked their location, and the boy quickly ran over. 

"Hey! Lan!" 

He shouted excitedly. Earlier, the boy had been desperate for Lan to escape, unable to imagine anyone single-handedly defeating an entire camp of enemies. 

But now, he had witnessed it firsthand. A child's excitement is pure, and the fear of captivity and walking through a field of corpses had already dissipated. 

Lan was grateful that White was a boy and wouldn't rush over for a hug like a girl might. At most, he'd just bounce excitedly in front of him. 

Because... 

"Drip—" 

A drop of blood fell from Lan's nose, hitting the sandy ground with a faint sizzle. Right now, even a single drop of his blood was deadly poison to an ordinary person. 

White rushed up to Lan, bouncing with excitement as he expressed his amazement. 

"You did it, Lan! You really defeated an entire camp of bad guys! I bet there were a hundred people here! No, two hundred!" 

Lan smiled at this. His legs were beginning to give out. After the intense battle, the temporary physical enhancement from 'Thunder' was no longer enough to counteract the damage from the toxins. His heavily armored body collapsed onto the sand, startling both Phillip and White. 

The boy's chatter stopped abruptly, and he and Phillip hurried forward to help Lan up, only to be stopped by the witcher's raised hand. He really couldn't risk contact with ordinary people right now. 

Wiping his nose with his bloodstained, studded leather glove, Lan left a dark streak of blood. Every bone ached; every muscle felt like it was tearing apart under the toxin's assault.

But Lan looked at White's large head and laughed heartily. 

He had saved him. He had fulfilled both Mrs. Donna's request and his own sense of guilt. 

He had saved a family—a family whose matriarch remained brave and optimistic in the face of life's hardships, and whose youngest member had wanted others to escape even at the last moment. 

He had done well. 

"Don't come closer. I'm just... relieved." 

Phillip and White were at a loss as they watched Lan's smile while he sat on the ground. 

The witcher spoke to his mental assistant in his mind. 

"I'm now certain, Mentos." 

"Of what?" 

"That I have the ability to live in this world on my own terms." The young witcher's tone carried a confident, optimistic edge. In this blood-soaked night, he shone like a bright sun. "This world can't hold me back!" 

Mentos was silent for a moment. Just like Lan's tone, the emotional graph in his mind had finally stabilized. 

"You're happy, sir. That's good, but with all due respect..." The AI's voice became emotionless. "If you don't drink that bottle of 'White Honey' in your pouch soon, the world won't need to hold back a corpse." 

Lan rummaged through his alchemy pouch and finally pulled out a milky-white potion. 'White Honey', a witcher's self-administered antidote to counteract the toxicity of potions. He hastily drank it, and the blackness on his face and eyes began to fade. 

But even after the 'White Honey' took full effect, the blackness didn't completely disappear. Compared to the enhanced 'Thunder' and 'Blizzard', the basic 'White Honey' seemed a bit underwhelming. 

White watched Lan nervously, only relaxing when he saw the witcher's condition visibly improve after drinking the potion. Phillip's expression mirrored the boy's, and when he sighed in relief, his large frame shuddered slightly. 

"Buddy, you looked like a corpse just now... Are you really okay?" 

Lan sat on the ground, patting his forehead with his palm in exasperation. 

"Seems like there's a bit of a problem. If I let my body metabolize the toxins naturally, it'll take more than half a month. And to fully recover from the damage caused by the toxins, I'll need at least a month. That's nearly two months of recovery!" 

"Looks like being a witcher isn't an easy job either." Phillip scratched his head, echoing Lan's sentiment. 

But Lan's gaze swept over the wooden cages on the beach, and an idea formed in his mind. 

"Sergeant, what will you do with these victims?" 

"Call me Phillip," the officer said casually. 

"We'll take them back to Crow's Perch. The lord will probably give a speech, post notices, and so on. You know he won't miss a chance to boost his reputation. Then we'll send them home." 

"Alright, that sounds reasonable." 

Lan turned to White with a smile. 

"You'll follow this plan, White. Mrs. Donna is waiting for you at home, and I need to deal with my own issues." Lan pointed to the lingering black toxins on his face. 

White hesitated at first, but at the mention of Mrs. Donna, the boy obediently nodded. 

"Phillip, could you send me a letter once this boy is safely home? Just send it to the Master Tor's blacksmith shop in Gors Velen. I've made a couple of friends there." 

"No problem, buddy. That's easy." 

"Also, you might not know this, but there's a VIP in one of those cages. Before you report the victory to Vserad, you'll need to send her away first. Her injuries aren't looking good." 

"Hey, a VIP? How important are we talking?" 

Phillip wasn't planning to refuse Lan's request. Even if the person were a commoner, he'd still send them away if Lan asked. But he couldn't resist a bit of banter. 

Lan just looked at him with a knowing smile. 

"The Rectoress of Aretuza." 

"Cough!" Phillip clutched his chest with his free hand, taking a moment to recover. 

"York! Where the hell are you? Get the horses ready! Now! And make a stretcher—sturdy but soft, you hear me?" 

After a quick, stern conversation, Phillip helped Lan to his feet. 

"Alright, buddy. I get it now. You single-handedly crushed this entire camp, earning yourself a huge favor. A little issue like this? The mages at Aretuza will probably fix it with a wave of their hand." 

"Thanks for the optimism," Lan said weakly. But what he wanted to exchange for this favor wasn't just a quick fix for his toxin problem. 

As the two made their way to Margarita's cage, White, who had lagged behind at the port, let out a surprised shout. 

Under the dim moonlight, a child crawled out of the sea, exhausted, and collapsed onto the sand, unwilling to move. Lan figured it must be one of the friends White had made during his captivity. 

***

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