Allen's gaze lingered long on Ianna's aged face, as flickering candlelight danced through her silver hair.
He would not undervalue himself. The Temple of Melitele naming him as the Holy Son wasn't purely a selfless act—it certainly benefited the temple as well. Otherwise, no matter how much authority Ianna held within the temple, she would have faced opposition from other priestesses and followers.
The dual miracles of the May Day prophecy and the blessing before the descent of the evil god had long since turned into fervent legend in the taverns and marketplaces of Ellander.
People sang of the blue-eyed witcher who saved Ellander and drove out an evil god. Rumors of him being a "Holy Son" had already been circulating.
By officially naming Allen as such, the temple was merely echoing what the faithful already believed, thereby reinforcing Melitele's influence across the region.
At the same time, the designation appealed to those who held favorable views of witchers, especially through the deepening relationship with the School of the Wolf and potentially other witcher schools. This could partially remedy the temple's historical weakness in its crusade against evil.
In these increasingly chaotic times, full of monsters and unrest, that kind of support was more important than ever.
And Ianna herself—who had pushed for this—would be able to firmly reestablish her authority as Arch-Priestess, shaken by the absence of divine revelation.
Even Ellander could potentially recover more swiftly from the disasters it had endured, both in population and prosperity. But all of these subtle advantages paled in comparison to the combined enmity of Redania, Ban Ard, and the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization. That risk overshadowed all potential gains.
Besides, for someone as elderly as Ianna, were these benefits even worth much anymore?
Staying out of trouble, not offending powerful factions, and leaving behind a respectable legacy—that would seem to be the best path for her now.
Allen looked into Ianna's eyes.
Even now, he still didn't understand why the old woman valued him so deeply.
From their very first meeting, she had introduced him to Duke Mason, selflessly taught him sacred rituals, and if the Temple of Melitele had allowed male priests, she might have even given him the Arch-Priestess's seat itself.
There was a gentle, glowing warmth in her gaze.
The kindness of an elder.
"I understand."
Allen glanced at the utterly stunned Philippa Eilhart and realized Ianna had brought up the Holy Son ceremony in front of everyone to increase his weight in the coming rescue mission.
He nodded.
"After we rescue Hen Gedymdeith, I'll return to Ellander."
Ianna nodded in satisfaction, her eyes narrowing with a pleased smile.
"The Temple of Melitele will be ready to welcome that day. The entire Northern Continent will rejoice in that moment."
That's a bit much… Allen felt a headache coming on. But seeing Ianna's excited expression, he knew it was pointless to argue. The witcher just sighed quietly in his heart.
After rescuing Hen Gedymdeith…
That still felt very far off.
He didn't even know how he was going to face the Chief after returning to Kaer Morhen tomorrow…
-----------------------------------
After leaving the reception hall, Philippa Eilhart excused herself, saying she needed to report the results to Tissaia de Vries, and agreed to return the next morning to accompany them to Kaer Morhen.
On the way back, Ianna chatted with Allen for a while about the follow-up to the Evenson affair.
Duke Mason had already written the official statement and, by evening, had dispatched the fastest courier to Vizima, the capital of Temeria.
Of course, the version in the letter was the same as the one being spread in taverns and marketplaces by a bard named Yevgeny Willard:
The Redanian criminal Evenson, who had harmed a witcher, was executed by the wise and just Duke Mason of Ellander, under the witness of the legendary sorceress of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers and headmistress of Aretuza, Tissaia de Vries, and the Arch-Priestess of the Temple of Melitele, Ianna. He was publicly beheaded by the Duke's personal guards.
When Ianna mentioned this, she even joked that Tissaia had returned to Aretuza in frustration, having lost the public spotlight. Of course, everyone knew it was just a joke.
As they neared the priestesses' residence, Ianna and Lysa said their farewells. With Philippa Eilhart returning at dawn, they would be leaving soon after—likely only meeting again once more at most this year.
And given Ianna's age, and the way she had visibly aged over just half a month, Allen couldn't help but wonder if tomorrow's farewell might be the final one.
He didn't want to think that way, but the deepening lines on her face constantly reminded him: Ianna was already very old.
So, at the moment of parting, Allen tried asking if there were any elixirs to extend her life, something that might help her—but she only smiled and refused.
"To grow old naturally is Lady Melitele's greatest blessing."
That light and gentle sentence left Danthe and Vesemir, who had been helping Allen persuade her, completely silent.
Allen himself found no words to argue.
But after thinking it through, he also accepted it.
Though witchers and sorcerers were long-lived due to magical enhancement, the truth was—Allen couldn't even be sure he would live to see next year.
For all he knew, before Ianna returned to Melitele's golden kingdom, he might fall first—in Ban Ard, in the Spiral, or in some nameless corner of the Northern Continent.
Compared to Ianna, who remained safely in Ellander, his chances were probably lower.
Especially considering the increasingly absurd enemies he was collecting.
A natural death, truly, was a blessing.
It was also worth mentioning that while Danthe, Vesemir, and Ianna all seemed to be subtly creating space for Allen and Lysa to say a proper goodbye…
Lysa, contrary to her usual self, acted unexpectedly casual. She said goodbye, waved, and then helped support Ianna as they left.
Vesemir and Danthe joked that Lysa was upset because of Philippa Eilhart's presence and told Allen to go after her and say a proper goodbye.
Allen just smiled and said nothing—and didn't chase after her.
He didn't believe Lysa's behavior was out of jealousy. She wasn't the type of shallow person to be upset over something like that—this was the same girl who had pulled herself together after losing both parents and had chosen to live on.
No, her decisiveness and calm attitude felt more like someone who had come to terms with something… someone who had made a firm decision.
Allen felt an inexplicable sense of loss for a few seconds, then let it go.
Lysa was only fifteen or sixteen. His own mental age was already over thirty. Though he'd been an orphan in both lives, growing up in a traditional country with a proper education, he just couldn't bring himself to do anything shameful.
In the end, Lysa's affection toward him came from a debt of gratitude. But truthfully, his actual target back then had been the "human couple" Ada Aemyn had mentioned—that is, the elf Shadia and the knight Hod, who served Viscount Hudson.
Lysa had only been saved in passing.
And over this period, she had already helped Allen quite a bit—not to mention, she had saved Hughes.
The life-saving debt had long been repaid; there was no need for her to offer herself in return.
Back at the small house where the witchers were staying, Allen tried teaching Vesemir, Erni, Klar, and the others the Battle Roar version of "Beast Roar: Wild Speech."
This was something Allen had worked out himself over the past few days, after failing to activate the effect of that evil god element.
As expected, the results weren't great. Even Fred, who seemed to have absorbed the "Growth Element" as well, couldn't grasp it at first.
However, after Allen awakened the "Battle Roar: Berserk" in both Danthe and Fred, Fred went on to naturally comprehend "Battle Roar: Wild Speech."
This piqued Allen's interest and curiosity about the connection between the various Beast Roars.
He suspected that this connection might be the key to detaching Beast Roars from the evil god element and transforming them into war cries.
Fred's success in mastering "Battle Roar: Wild Speech" had a strong motivating effect on the other witchers. Vesemir, Danthe, Erni, and Klar continued practicing late into the night, stopping only when the full moon was high to return to their rooms and rest.
Unfortunately, in the end, no one besides Fred managed to learn it.
-----------------------------------
"Bang~"
The door shut behind him.
As Allen sat down, the wooden stool beneath him automatically adjusted itself, forming armrests and a backrest that fit his posture.
The room filled with flowers quivered softly in the breeze. The subtle floral scent deepened, becoming richer, yet unlike during the day—it was gently soporific.
A green vine shot up from the ground and affectionately wrapped itself around his right hand.
"Hmm?"
This series of natural, spontaneous reactions left Allen momentarily stunned.
"The plants in this room seem different from those outside, which were catalyzed by the 'Growth Element'... they seem—" he frowned slightly, studying them for a while, "they seem more... sentient."
Earlier that evening, when he'd left the cottage, he hadn't noticed. He'd merely assumed the "Growth Element" was making things a bit more lush and lively under the influence of nature's essence.
But now, compared to the lime tree and other vegetation he'd "grown" outside, the difference was striking.
Those outside simply obeyed and grew—no more, no less. They showed no sense of "closeness."
But here...
The vine coiled around his hand was like a puppy or kitten thrilled to see its owner after a long absence.
Tulips, hyacinths, wisteria, daisies… their eagerness and affection were obvious. Compared to the externally accelerated plants, there was a fundamental difference.
"Could this be... have they been 'awakened' by the essence?" Allen speculated.
"Thankfully, I didn't do anything during the day to hide this. With emotions this vivid, such sentient plants must be extremely rare."
Allen gently ran his fingers along the vine's smooth surface. It unfurled, curled, and finally trembled with pleasure at his touch.
It really was like petting a happy dog.
Such a vine, with its own sentience, was surely more powerful and versatile than ordinary forest creepers or tree roots.
"But..." Allen stopped his hand mid-stroke, "Even if I didn't do anything this evening, once I leave tomorrow, it'll be a long time before I return to the temple. Even if they leave my room untouched... these plants probably won't last long..."
His thoughts were still adrift when—
"Rustle~"
The vine seemed to sense his inner turmoil. It curled back and drew a small section of root, still clinging to damp soil, from the ground. Then, it tucked both the soil and root neatly into the side pocket of his leather armor.
And then—
The tulips, hyacinths, wisteria, daisies... All the flowers in the small room suddenly seemed to rewind through time. Every plant began to reverse its growth.
Petals folded inward, leaves shrank back, stems and roots receded. One by one, they quietly burrowed into the earth.
In the blink of an eye—
Except for the cracked soil and damaged wooden planks on the floor and walls, the room had nearly returned to its original state.
Allen stared at the now-empty room, stunned for a long moment.
In the world of witchers, there were so-called "magical plants," but apart from monstrosities like the Thorned Demon Tree, that simply meant plants imbued with magical energy—like Berisa fruit or sage.
They didn't actually behave like the violent flora of Harry Potter—no Whomping Willows, screaming Mandrakes, or biting cabbages. But what he had just witnessed—these plants… they really had the feel of magical plants from a high-fantasy world.
Even if, at first glance, they looked like ordinary flora.
"Looks like when I get back to Kaer Morhen, I'll have another path of study to explore…" Allen muttered to himself.
Clicking his tongue in thought, he followed the cracked edges of the floor and walls, carefully picking up the lingering seeds that still faintly pulsed with sentience and storing them in his reagent pouch.
The vine noticed this too. It extended itself from his pocket, gently wrapped the soil around its roots, and burrowed into the reagent pouch on its own.
"Huh. Quite well-behaved, aren't you?" Allen couldn't help but smile.
He climbed out the window and dug into the soil just outside, unearthing the seed of the wisteria. Instead of heading straight back, he paused for a moment, focused his will, and opened his Witcher's Journal.
-----------------------------------
[Name: Allen]
…
[Experience Orbs: Experience Orb ×109, Small Experience Orb ×3995]
[Treasure Chests: Aen Elle's Chest ×18, Sorcerer's Chest ×23, Ronny Dickinson's Chest ×5, Leshen's Chest ×2, Wolf's Chest ×2, Raven's Chest ×2, @#￥%&'s Chest ×5, Demon Summoning Ritual Chest ×5, Rotting Lord's Chest ×5, Monster Nest Chest ×5, Corpse Demon's Chest ×5]
Before he realized it, Allen had already accumulated seventy-seven unopened treasure chests. And many of those chests—including the Wolf and Raven ones—were extremely important to him.
After all, he still didn't have the Beast Oil sword oil formula, and he didn't want to suffer again like he did during the descent of the Evil God, all because his blade wasn't prepared.
Though beasts and beast-type monsters generally weren't that difficult to deal with, the existence of Enhanced and Superior Beast Oil suggested the possibility of something far worse—what if some beast-class creature was possessed by an Evil God?
Before attempting to rescue Hen Gedymdeith, Allen wanted to complete his collection of all sword oil recipes.
Currently, he only had the full set of Necrophage Oil (assuming "Superior" was the highest tier), Specter Oil and Enhanced Specter Oil, Hybrid Oil, and Cursed Oil. That made four types in total.
But he was still missing the base-level versions of the remaining eight oils: Relict, Vampire, Construct, Insectoid, Cursed, Ogre, Beast, and Draconid.
That left him with a serious sense of unease.
Who knew what kind of threats lurked in Ban Ard—a place that not only faced the looming menace of the Wild Hunt, but also housed the likes of Ottolan, the boss of the Rissberg Civil Consortium and an enthusiast of biological modification?
Even with Philippa Eilhart accompanying him, Allen didn't want to take any chances.
After thinking it through for a moment, he turned and headed toward the sanctuary of Melitele.
....
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