006 The Hot Water Bucket

Roland stared at the towering troll before him, his heart awash with mixed emotions. Despite the creature's immense size, in the blink of an eye, the troll had silently vanished dozens of meters away—carrying a sheep in its arms no less! Not even a seasoned sorcerer witnessing this scene would fail to break into a cold sweat. And to think, this troll was versed in magic!

Roland’s face drained of color as he thought, “This surpasses all my expectations. If this troll wished to kill me, I wouldn’t stand a chance—I couldn’t fight back or escape... I might as well accept it calmly.”

He sighed, rose to his feet, and respectfully saluted the colossal figure behind him with a sorcerer’s gesture. To his astonishment, the troll, as if an elegant elder sorcerer, nodded slightly in return. Roland had guessed the troll wouldn’t strike him, but such a courteous response was beyond his imagination, leaving his expression a mix of awe and bewilderment.

“What sort of being stands over three meters tall before me? Can he truly be a troll?”

Suddenly, a breeze swept through the forest, and both Roland and the troll heard a call.

“—Nar~~ Nar~~ Nar~”

The troll straightened his chest like a knight summoned by his lord.

“Nar?” A strange look flickered in Roland’s eyes.

His mentor had once said she kept only one pet, which was this very troll named Anna.

But why had the mentor called out “Nar” just now? Was it some incantation or spell?

Roland felt uncertain.

He had no omniscient perspective and was unaware that his mentor actually kept two “trolls,” so mistaking “Nar” for a spell or word was understandable.

Moreover, Catherine, his mentor, was only a high-level apprentice; owning even one such troll was astonishing enough—who would have guessed she had two!?

In truth, Catherine had deliberately concealed Anna’s existence, often referring to Nar as Anna in front of others. Thus, the entire town of Valeria believed the cat witch kept only one male troll named Anna.

Roland had subconsciously assumed only “Mr. Anna” was by his mentor’s side, so naturally, he took “Nar” to be a spell’s syllable rather than a name.

Suddenly, a sheep was tossed into Roland’s arms. The troll leapt onto a large tree and swiftly disappeared into the forest’s depths.

Roland gazed long at the troll’s retreating form, then shook his head and descended the mountain cradling the sheep.

On the way, he pondered the recent events.

“From what I observed, Mr. Anna’s species must have a peculiar kind of vision.”

He recalled the troll’s eyes—vertical pupils, snake-like.

“Mentor said Anna, when enraged, loses the ability to think and his strength diminishes greatly, acting purely on instinct.”

“In such a state, Mr. Anna cannot perceive his surroundings fully... relying solely on scent and vision to locate targets.”

“Even with just scent and vision, prey would find it hard to hide... unless submerged in hot water, hiding anywhere else would lead to discovery.”

Roland shook his head, deciding not to dwell further.

He knew his mentor would be leaving with Mr. Anna today, yet an inexplicable, deadly sense of crisis gnawed at him.

He couldn’t pinpoint its source but felt compelled to strengthen himself swiftly.

It seemed if he failed to advance tonight, death was inevitable; yet if he ascended to a low-level apprentice, there remained a glimmer of hope.

—Unbeknownst to Roland, the so-called “Mr. Anna” was actually Nar. The real Anna was still nearby. According to the earlier prophecy in the Ayelay Manuscripts, Miss Anna would come seeking food tonight.

By then, Roland had returned near the hunter’s cabin.

Outside, the large pot still simmered, though the water was nearly boiled dry. Hastily, Roland fetched several buckets from the well and replenished the pot.

“Mentor must have already left.”

His heart pounded wildly.

“When the troll is on the back mountain, if the mentor leaves, it might not be genuine departure.”

“But if the troll isn’t on the back mountain, then the mentor has truly gone!”

At that moment, Roland noticed a large wooden tub inside filled with hot water, its surface adorned with many flower petals.

Judging by the bubbles, his mentor had just bathed.

Come to think of it, she was extravagant—her bathing tub held a permanent magic circle maintaining the water’s temperature, consuming magical stones each time it was used.

This magic stone kept the bathwater warm continuously.

Roland sensed a faint, elusive gaze observing him from afar, and thought inwardly: “Is my mentor watching me?”

He left the cabin and began preparing the sheep outside—skinning and cutting the meat to roast the whole lamb.

About an hour later, the faint gaze disappeared.

It seemed Catherine had moved on.