Cold winds howled through the mountains, carrying a piercing chill through the valley—cold enough to strike fear into the hearts of the people living at the foot of the mountains.
Yet, as the wind passed over the castle before them, all that biting cold seemed to calm, as if it had been tamed like a beast.
This was Kaer Seren, the stronghold of the Griffin School of Witchers.
Not long ago, it had been a desolate ruin. Of its vast complex, barely a tenth had been cleared, and even less had been repaired enough for use.
But ever since Ciri made her wish to the Djinn, it was as if time itself had reversed. Life had returned to this place.
The Witchers of the Wolf, Viper, Cat, and Bear Schools were all seasoned men, yet they still gazed in awe at the magical castle before them—
Reliving the glory of the Witchers' Golden Age.
"The Griffin School, huh..." muttered Vesemir in admiration, patting the shoulder of the equally white-haired Keldar beside him.
The old Griffin had returned ahead of time. When he first laid eyes on the renewed castle, he'd burst into tears right in front of Mousesack and Jerome.
But now, he acted as though that pitiful moment had never happened. Proudly, he was introducing his home to his fellow Witchers and younger brethren.
The main gate creaked open slowly, revealing Mousesack's tired face.
Having just crowned Ciri at the celebration, Mousesack had rushed back without rest to prepare for the experiments.
He began explaining the upcoming Witcher mutations to the group.
"This castle is truly remarkable," Mousesack said to the assembled Witchers. "Beneath our feet lies a nexus of magical energy. The land itself pulses with arcane force. Conducting Witcher mutations here allows us mages to intervene more precisely—and with far greater ease."
Vesemir nodded. "Any condition that improves the success of the mutations is something we must strive for. But—"
The old Wolf looked visibly tense. "Mousesack, can you tell us how far the research has really come? Have we... truly reached a 100% success rate?"
At the mention of the experiments, Mousesack—already highly excited—began drifting into manic enthusiasm.
His eyes lit up as he launched into a passionate explanation of his findings.
"The Witcher mutation is truly a revolutionary breakthrough. The deeper I study this process, the more I'm astounded by Alzur's prodigious genius."
"But if I may speak bluntly," Mousesack shook his head, "the Witchers of today are nothing more than half-finished products."
The Witchers present came to a halt, visibly offended to varying degrees.
"Druids are naturally adept at biological experimentation. In my youth, I participated in numerous modification experiments on animals and monsters."
"A proper modification process should begin with large-scale, undirected mutation to produce a wide variety of test subjects. From these, you select the best specimens that most closely match the goal of the experiment, and cultivate them further. Then, you broaden the sample size again—choosing even finer specimens in the next generation, repeating the process."
"Unfortunately, Alzur's experiment stopped halfway. The Trial of Grasses that Witchers undergo is only the first part of this process: alchemical agents destroy the subject's original physical structure and rebuild a new framework—but the procedure is entirely uncontrollable."
"It's like opening a 'gate' to power for all test subjects—without setting a 'path' forward. The result? Many stray off the road, or collapse halfway through. This leads to uncontrollable aberrant mutations or prematurely halted beneficial ones."
Mousesack looked solemnly at the surviving Witchers before him. "That's why the survival rate is below 30%. Let alone directing the mutation—we can't even reliably control life or death. It's entirely left to chance."
The old druid's voice turned indignant. "This is not what a mature experiment should yield!"
As the old druid suddenly delved into academic lecture mode, the Witchers exchanged a few uneasy glances.
It was Vesemir who continued asking, "Then are we now capable of controlling the direction after that 'gate' is opened?"
"Of course," Mousesack nodded. "Originally, this process should have taken much more time—choosing the right 'path' beyond the 'gate' required a vast number of live experiments. So I took a different approach—"
"Why not just follow the path that already exists? Using a current Witcher as the blueprint, I predefined the 'end point', and directed future mutations toward that goal. Instead of exploring blindly like crossing a river by feeling for stones, I started from the answer and worked backwards to fill in the process. Everything became much simpler."
"That's why I drew blood samples from each of you recently," Mousesack said, eyeing the now-enlightened Witchers. "And fortunately—though not unexpectedly—I found the Witcher whose body is best suited to serve as the 'final target' of this mutation process."
All eyes followed the old druid's finger.
Lann raised his chin slightly, offering a bashful and modest smile.
Mousesack had begun studying his body long ago. Initially, it was to check for any hidden risks from the Witcher Trials. Later, it was to help Lann adapt to his newfound power and unleash his full potential.
Eventually, once it was confirmed that Lann posed no danger—and that his body held astonishing value—the old druid's scientific spirit became impossible to contain.
Hair, skin flakes, fingernails, surface cells—those were the restrained samples.
Blood, small pieces of muscle tissue, and even more... compromising fluids—
To put it plainly, Mousesack had collected every bodily specimen that could be harvested without harming Lann's integrity.
Only because it was Mousesack. If Alzur were still alive, Lann might very well have been dissected into pieces by now.
As for the fact that their own bodies had lost out to Lann's, none of the Witchers took issue.
For one, they'd all witnessed Lann's strength firsthand. He'd only been a Witcher for just over two years, yet his combat power had already surpassed that of warlocks over two hundred years old. In terms of raw capability, he truly was the best 'mutation direction'—the ideal 'end point' for the next generation of Witchers.
Secondly, Mousesack added that Lann's mutation path was far more stable and controllable than others.
His 'path' was a broad and straight road—future test subjects, with minimal guidance, could easily follow it forward. The others, by contrast, had winding and treacherous paths—difficult to locate, and easy to veer off from with even the slightest misstep.
When Jerome learned of this, he was left deeply puzzled. How exactly did I conduct Lann's mutation surgery back then?
Am I really that skilled?
…
With such a promising prototype in their hands, the Witchers were more delighted than anything else.
However, Mousesack wasn't done yet and dropped another bombshell.
"We now all understand that Witcher infertility and mages infertility are two completely different things."
"You're unable to reproduce because the mutation process created a species-level divergence between you and normal humans. It's not just between Witchers and ordinary people—this gap exists even between Witchers themselves."
"But now that the direction of mutation is controllable, that means..."
The room fell silent. One by one, their thoughts followed Mousesack's logic.
And with that, disbelief began to fill their eyes.
"...That means, theoretically, it's now possible for Witchers to conceive offspring with other Witchers," Mousesack concluded with a wry smile. "Of course—between male and female Witchers—assuming we ever have female Witchers again."
This revelation was even more shocking than the increase in Witcher Trial success rates.
When this hypothesis was first proposed, Mousesack and the other warlocks had been ecstatic for quite some time.
But the Witchers themselves reacted far more calmly—certainly not with the same excitement as Mousesack.
They were drifters, living one day at a time. Few of them had ever harbored desires or aspirations for fatherhood.
At most, they were curious and wistful—glad, perhaps, that future Witchers might have more choices.
"What's the success rate for that?" Letho asked with interest.
Mousesack simply spread his hands. "That's purely theoretical for now. I haven't had the time or means to verify it."
The kind of 'time' and 'means' needed for that verification were quite... specific—and all the Witchers understood the implications immediately, breaking into mischievous grins.
But Vesemir caught something else in Mousesack's words.
"You haven't tested that theory yet... but you have already verified the Witcher Trial's success rate?" the old Wolf asked, hesitating. "You've already conducted human experimentation—and succeeded?"
You couldn't blame Vesemir for asking. The old generation had refused to take on new apprentices precisely to avoid letting innocents die because of the Witchers.
The Witchers of the Wolf School frowned slightly. The Cat and Viper Schools showed no visible reaction.
Only the members of the Griffin School—and Mousesack himself—smiled cryptically, already in the know.
By now, the group had entered the castle's laboratory. Mousesack stepped forward and pulled open a heavy door.
"Allow me to introduce Subject One of the new Witcher Trials—Leo Bonhart," he announced.
Inside lay a tall, lean bounty hunter strapped to an iron bed, his entire body riddled with tubes. Thick leather straps and iron chains bound his arms and legs, as well as his waist, neck, and thighs.
His physical condition looked decent—well-maintained muscles and no obvious wounds—but mentally, he was on the verge of collapse.
At the sound of footsteps, he immediately began moving the only part of him that was still free—his eyes.
Mousesack gestured toward those amber-colored vertical pupils and said, "He killed a member from each of the Griffin, Cat, and Wolf Schools. In a way, this is him atoning for the crimes of his past."
"This is also another outcome of our research—the mutation can now be applied to adults, not just children. However, since adult bones and muscles are already fully developed, the mutation process is far more painful, and the resulting enhancements are significantly weaker."
Mousesack added analytically, "But this also demonstrates the precision of our experimental control."
All the Witchers nodded in agreement, scrutinizing Bonhart. Even those from the Wolf School—who were typically the most cautious—looked satisfied. No one raised any objections about using this man for human experimentation.
Beyond the chamber housing 'Subject One', Mousesack began explaining Bonhart's role in future operations. He intended to use the bounty hunter's exceptional swordsmanship to train future Witchers, and to employ him in upcoming research into 'secondary mutations'.
None of the Witchers objected—in fact, they showed intense interest in the concept of second-stage mutations.
Soon after, they approached the room where the next true Witcher mutation would take place.
The figures of female sorceresses entered their view.
Triss and Yennefer glanced briefly at the group of chattering men. They'd already been working here for quite some time, preparing everything in advance.
The Witchers instantly fell silent, but their anticipation visibly grew—having a master druid and two top-tier sorceresses overseeing the procedure added yet another layer of security to the experiment's success.
Then, their eyes turned toward the small figure lying on the experimental bed.
Leo.
The boy Lann had brought back from White Orchard. Originally, he should have been adopted by the Wolf School after his home was overrun by Nilfgaard—but by some twist of fate, he had ended up training under the Griffin School instead.
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