Chapter 227

An unknown corner of the world.

The sky had been dyed blood-red, crowded with dense scarlet whirlpools, like a sky full of stars, and like flaming meteors falling at the end of days.

A human figure was cast down, plunging toward the earth.

A web caught him, and covered the land besides.

It was a boundless web. Every strand in it had been magnified a thousandfold, and among them lay piled countless white bones, rat bones, human remains, the skeletons of common beasts. There were also the vast frames of giants, whales, dragons, colossal things.

The web kept weaving onward into the darkness in the distance.

The figure began to struggle wildly, but it was like sinking into quicksand. The harder he struggled, the tighter the strands around him drew. They gradually crept up from his ankles, swiftly swallowing most of his body, wrapping him into a cocoon, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed, glaring stubbornly outward.

As if some signal had been triggered, the web trembled like the earth in a quake. Then a shadow lunged into view, a huge abdomen blocked him from sight, spindle-shaped like a fully rigged barge, covered in black bristles, with eight sharp chitinous legs growing from either side.

“Blakat...”

A voice harsh as a rasp rang out, rippling through the web. It gradually rose higher, impossible to tell male from female, enough to make the skin crawl. It sounded as though countless men, women, elders, and children were chanting together, all those voices kneaded into one.

“Grayba...”

The monster’s abdomen drew back, revealing a gigantic head. Cunning and greed flickered across a leonine face as it thrust out a tongue covered in backward barbs at him.

...

“Kid, were you listening to a word I said, or have you drifted off again?”

“Sorry, Orin. Didn’t sleep well last night...” Roy rubbed at the dark circles under his eyes, looking a little dazed. “I had a nightmare. Never seen anything like that place in a dream before.”

“Witchers get nightmares too?” Orin wagged his brows and showed a frivolous grin. “I get it now. At your age, if that particular need goes unsatisfied, a string of spring dreams is nothing strange. Tell me, did you dream some fat woman of two hundred pounds crushing you under her?”

“Shut up, idiot.” Kael, beside him, rubbed his forehead helplessly. “A knight is badly wounded, and you still have the mood for jokes?”

It was around eight or nine in the morning. The three Witchers had only just left the sorceress Coral’s residence.

Kael pushed a one-wheeled handcart. Lying in it was Knight Mars, the most gravely injured of the three. A broad swath of clean white bandages covered the left side of his chest. His face was pale, utterly bloodless. He was half-conscious, muttering broken, slurred fragments under his breath.

The other two knights were far luckier. Splints had been fixed to their broken limbs, and Roy and Orin each supported one of them.

Their minds were clear enough, only their bodies somewhat weak.

“This is called humor, optimism.” Orin turned his head and flashed a grin at the wounded man he was supporting. “Life’s already hard enough. If you don’t splash a bit of color over that pale background, what’s the point of living at all? Right, brother Zerlin? With me keeping you company, don’t you feel much better? Bet the wound hurts less too.”

“Uh...”

Zerlin coughed twice, then nodded stiffly.

Seeing that, Kael sighed and gave up entirely on trying to reform his brother.

He turned to Roy. “You mentioned a nightmare just now. I see it differently.” Kael analyzed the matter. “Your instincts have always been sharp. You’re not likely to dream something for no reason. Could this nightmare be some kind of omen, some warning? You ought to take it seriously.”

Roy nodded. He was just about to explain something when the pendant on his chest suddenly began to tremble.