ALL NOVEL Chapter 33: Chapter 33
Chapter 33: The Clue
With his heightened senses of smell and sight in full operation, the world transformed in Lan's perspective. The corner of the wooden cabin emanated the scent of ghouls, marked in bright red within his vision, indicating the entry point for the monsters—a burrow.
His studded leather gloves sifted through the scattered flesh, and his mind analyzed every severed piece of information.
"The fatal wound is a pierced heart. Although the heart has been gnawed away by ghouls, there's still a clean stab wound. A sharp double-edged dagger of fine quality—interesting."
The young witcher spoke to himself, finding this helpful for organizing his thoughts. While his [Tracking] skill wasn't sufficient, he reminded himself that he had watched thousands of episodes of "Detective Conan" for a reason.
"Mentos, is the angle of the dagger piercing the heart as I suspected?"
The intelligent voice responded to Lan's musings.
"Based on the human model simulation, the dagger indeed pierced the heart at an angle from the left third rib, angling upward to ensure a fatal blow. It appears the dagger turned approximately thirty degrees inside the body."
"Ah-ha." The young man raised an eyebrow. "Steady and precise, and quite ruthless. A seasoned killer."
If an inexperienced human were to engage in a fight for the first time, they would typically breathe heavily, their hands trembling, and their field of vision would drastically narrow. This person's technique indicated that he was an experienced fighter.
Lan rummaged through the wreckage and found the shoes worn by the victim. Fortunately, the three ghouls hadn't been so starved as to consume the tanned leather; otherwise, there wouldn't be any shoes remaining.
"Judging by the size of the shoes… the victim was approximately 170 centimeters tall."
Height assessment couldn't be made by looking at a person's upper body, as most people have similar torso lengths; it's the legs that account for the height difference.
After gathering this difficult information, Lan finally understood why he was so certain this was a "cannibal case." He picked up a severed arm bone, running his fingers over the pale white surface.
"Bite marks—not from a ghoul, but from a human."
Moreover, the killer had likely used a knife to skin the victim's arm, possibly slicing off a large piece of flesh. This would allow for a bite to reach the bone, given the jaw's range of motion. Before the ghouls could "process" the body, the wound must have been even more horrifying.
"Beasts," Lan said calmly, making his conclusion. This tone wasn't one of anger but rather a statement of fact. That killer had long since ceased to consider himself human.
With no more valuable information to gain, Lan brushed the dirt off his hands and stood up from his crouched position, walking toward the exit.
Now, Phillip Strenger's team had gathered outside the cabin, alerted by the commotion of the fight. As the squad leader and the highest-ranking officer, the burly Philip was cursing loudly.
"Are you all idiots crawling out of a ghoul's gut?!" While he berated them, none of the soldiers dared to meet his gaze, even as he rubbed his forehead from a hangover.
"The corpse! Our only evidence! The clue! Left here unattended? Eaten by ghouls?! Have you all forgotten how to keep watch since you've been out of the army for so long?!"
He paced around the soldiers, growing more agitated with each word. They were a group of veterans, having just returned from war, and now they were back in their homeland to serve the local lord.
And now, it looked like their task was about to fail.
Philip's mind raced as he contemplated the implications of their failure. He finally grabbed one soldier by the collar of his armor, pulling him close.
"None of you want to spend the night with a rotting corpse, do you? Then do you want to become that rotting corpse?! Huh? Speak!"
No one dared to answer. The chain of command was heavy, especially in the military. But while a teacher scolding students might face some resistance, this was a group of soldiers. A timid voice emerged from the silence of the group.
"We should blame that witcher. People say witchers bring misfortune, and I see no reason to doubt it. The body was fine a few days ago, but now that he's here—"
"Hey! Show some respect." York's voice cut in, directly opposing the soldier's claim. "The witcher has nothing to do with misfortune; he's our hired help. Are you really going to slander your ally?"
Lan had stepped out of the cabin, having overheard the exchange. But with the weight of the words, even the witcher remained unfazed.
Philip released his grip on the soldier, adjusting his helmet and gravely approaching Lan.
"I apologize for our failure to secure the clue; these fools have grown lazy." He began with self-criticism before rubbing his hands together, casting an expectant look at Lan.
"But York just said you might still find some clues in that pile of wreckage. Is that true?"
"How should I put it?" The young witcher brushed the dust off his hands, recalling the carnage within the cabin, and unconsciously ground his teeth.
"It's quite a mess."
"Oh." Philip's disappointment was palpable, although it was somewhat expected.
If they could gather three or four clues from a body that had been chewed on by ghouls, then witchers might as well become priests at the temple instead of performing their duties.
That was it; the lord's task seemed to have slipped away. Philip, disheartened, waved his hand behind him, ready to lead his men back to Crow's Perch to report their failure.
"But information hasn't been entirely lost."
Hmm?! The tall and burly officer suddenly turned back around.
"The murderer is approximately 160 centimeters tall and weighs about 60 kilos. He's a skilled killer, likely with a decent quality double-edged dagger. I estimate he has developed a taste for human flesh to the point where it is the only thing he eats, and judging by how he killed this farmer, he's been hungry for quite some time." The young man dusted off his palms, stating his findings calmly.
Philip's face lit up; this was a breakthrough. But as Lan elaborated, Philip's expression shifted to doubt. With so few clues and having been ravaged by ghouls, was it truly possible to derive this much information? Could this kid be trying to pull a fast one?
As Lan continued with his steady explanation, he seemed to address Philip's concerns directly.
"The guy has likely consumed many victims; when he killed this farmer, he skinned his arm first, possibly taking a large chunk of meat with him. Thus, he was able to bite into the arm and reach the bone. He was starving. And someone with a dagger that can slide through bone without leaving a scratch could easily find a meal anywhere, even if they had to pawn it temporarily. So it's clear he's only eating human flesh now."
The clarity of Lan's deductions erased Philip's doubts entirely. The soldiers behind him, including York, who had already witnessed the witcher's keen intellect, gaped in awe, their mouths agape like fish waiting for food.
"And he's likely an outsider." As Lan said this, he hesitated slightly. After all, he had just claimed to be an outsider himself, so he felt a bit odd about it.
Philip, keenly observant in his role, immediately picked up on this. "What do you mean by that, witcher?"
"Because he's an outsider, he may not understand the significance of Duén Hen, leading him to commit murder in such a sacred place."
Back in Oreton, Bernie had already informed Lan about Duén Hen. Though it was a convergence point for the villagers' faith, fundamentally, it was just an intersection of a few roads.
People worshipped at three small statues of the goddess Melitele there, representing her three aspects: The beautiful young Maiden, the mature, pregnant Mother and the edentulous, wrinkled Crone.
Travelers would leave meager offerings of food and valuables, which those in need could take. When they were able, they would repay with similar offerings to Melitele.
Only an uninformed outsider would dare to commit murder in such a place, risking the wrath of the community.
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