In the Great Hall of Winterfell, no one noticed that Klay, the heir of White Harbor, had been missing for quite some time. His loyal bodyguard chief, who had removed his iron gloves and placed them on the table, was now red-faced and thick-necked, raising his cup for a hearty drink with a guard he knew in Winterfell.
He did see his young master leave, but didn't think much of it. After all, they were in Duke Edd's territory, and no one dared to harm Klay.
Meanwhile, as the King and future Prime Minister celebrated or wore frosty expressions in Winterfell's Great Hall, Klay was lying in damp soil.
The joy of leaving the heart tree had just dissipated when Klay realized a serious problem: too much magic! Unable to see the inside of his body, Klay was acutely aware that he couldn't even lift a finger now, and his swollen body was filled with chaotic magic. Breaking free from the heart tree was already the limit; he couldn't do anything now.
He struggled to breathe while rapidly contemplating a plan. His first thought was to immediately return to his room. Only by being in the protection of the Mandell family guards could he feel safe enough to plan his next move. However, after just two seconds of consideration, he abandoned this idea.
Klay was well aware that the root cause of his current immobility was the excessive magic. This wasn't a problem that could be resolved by lying here for three or four hours, risking danger.
His magic pool wasn't an actual pool; he couldn't just release some excess. The urgent task was to deplete the surplus magic within his body, bringing the magic pool's level to a safe range. Magic wasn't in his bloodstream; it wasn't a matter of letting some blood to resolve it.
With a sigh in his mind, he decided to implement the riskiest but most effective method: mutation!
In the sacred ground of the Stark family, beneath the branches of the heart tree in the Godswood, under the watchful eyes of the Old Gods, mutation occurred!
Thoughts flickering, the system opened, and Klay quickly selected three small bottles lying quietly in his inventory.
Gritting his teeth, Klay used all his strength to take out the small bottles. He didn't have the time to judge their order; he bit them open directly.
"The grass potion is prepared for version 1.0, with significant risks and the following side effects... Do you want to use magic to offset them?"
What's there to hesitate about? Without even looking, Klay pushed the success rate to the limit and offset all the side effects.
The next second, magic within his body surged like lightning, rushing towards the potions that instantly turned Klay's face pale.
Tremendous pain originated from his stomach and quickly spread throughout his body at an astonishing speed.
Klay became restless, his limbs twisting unnaturally, body arching, lifting the grass turf on the ground.
His pupils dilated, his gaze vacant, eyes staring into the pitch-black night sky covered by the treetops.
About ten minutes passed, and the curled-up Klay suddenly began to move frantically. His hands unconsciously flailed and grabbed at the air, as if plucking rapidly drifting snowflakes.
After a while, his two hands suddenly rested on his chest, forcefully tearing apart the already shattered black outer cloak and the luxurious clothes with a mermaid emblem embroidered on the inside.
Heavy breathing echoed in the eerily quiet Godswood, like a terrifying monster lurking in the dark.
In the midst of ceaseless movements, Klay began to sweat profusely, quickly soaking all his clothes.
His skin was covered in mud and sweat, becoming slick and foul-smelling.
Klay's body spasmed involuntarily, a struggle against the enormous pain that invaded every inch of him.
Klay, who had been testing the success rate of the grass trial and how to exempt and offset those side effects, had neglected the immense pain inherent in the grass trial itself.
He finally understood why the trials of a Witcher were considered life-threatening; many Witcher apprentices probably died in agony!
The potion continued to erode his nervous system, while the magic within his body continued to provide protection. From his face downward, all parts of his body were on high alert, but the presence of magic kept Klay conscious, allowing him to experience every inch of change in his bones, muscles, glands, and more.
Amidst the suffering, Klay thought, "This wonderful experience cannot be enjoyed alone; only by letting future fortunate ones experience it can my inner balance be restored."
He felt the warmth on his face, which was the scalding blood flowing from his nose. His body temperature was astonishingly high, though not boiling like water. If it were anyone else, they would have long been holding a memorial service in the sept or beneath the heart tree. After an unknown amount of time, Klay successively lost his vision, taste, smell, and hearing, and then these disappeared senses returned one by one. The swelling sensation in his body gradually faded.
Klay could finally feel his stomach. The moment he drank the potion, he felt as if he had swallowed a bomb about to explode, shattering his stomach into pieces. The pain in his stomach disappeared, and then, a severe nausea overwhelmed his throat.
With heightened awareness, Klay kept telling himself: "Can't vomit, can't vomit!"
However...
"Wow..."
The world fell silent.
Perhaps an hour had passed, or maybe two? Who knew, but this was the longest night in Klay's sixteen years of life. After the last strand of painful sensation disappeared, Klay's half-closed eyes suddenly opened wide!
An unprecedented power flowed within his body. Without relying on any external force, he propelled himself out of the mud pit using only his legs. Under the moonlight, a tall and robust figure appeared in the reflection on the lake.
In Klay's eerie smile, he raised his left hand and made a strange gesture: the pinkie curled, the ring finger and middle finger close together, the index finger alone spread apart, and the palm slowly moved forward.
Magic surged, and a faint yellowish spherical shield suddenly appeared around him. Klay released his fingers, the shield shattered, and he knelt on the ground, burying his head in his arms to conceal the almost uncontrollable laughter. Because he was a Witcher!