The sorceress stood with her head bowed, eyes fixed on the stone wall. Her fingertips unconsciously traced the cold, rugged surface of the stone, remaining silent for a long while.
"What kind of disaster?" Allen couldn't help but break the suffocating silence.
The sorceress closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and only then slowly opened them to speak: "To condense a Legacy Vessel, naturally, the process only begins once one has reached their limit."
"If you haven't reached your limits, there's neither the need nor the necessity."
"Moreover, due to certain reasons, after the failure of Sol's case spread, the Brotherhood of Sorcerers began to tighten access to such information."
"Usually, only those who advance to the High Council of the Brotherhood are informed."
"But in truth, after reaching the limit, except for the final step—condensing the Legacy Vessel—most of the crucial steps are tied to one's achievements, not to physical or mental attributes."
"And as for that final step, among the recorded cases of past sorcerers, those lacking sufficient spiritual strength couldn't resonate at all, let alone condense a Legacy Vessel."
"It's like there may be a thousand-foot cliff ahead, but before the cliff, there are steep stairs. If you can't even climb the stairs, then you naturally don't face the risk of falling off the cliff."
"If we're talking about the body, then it should... it should be the same."
The sorceress paused. Her lips pressed into a tight line, a trace of struggle flickering in her expression.
After quite some time, she continued: "The Almighty Force within Sol's Legacy Vessel could enhance one's physical attributes, either permanently or temporarily. But permanent enhancement—once the physique has already reached its peak—is a long and extremely slow process."
"Therefore, it's generally treated as a temporary enhancement spell."
"But then again, if the Almighty Force works slowly on someone who's reached their limit, what about someone who hasn't?"
"And even if it's slow, it's still more potent than the typical improvements a witcher gains."
"In reality, with just regular training and monster hunting, even master-level witchers eventually plateau physically—some even regress due to repeated injuries."
"As for great feats…"
"Allen, just like when you manipulated Old Spearhead and the Drowner King into killing each other during the Highland Trial—on a Northern Continent still ravaged by monsters—prepared witchers never lack opportunities to earn renown."
"Achieving great feats is far easier for witchers than for sorcerers."
"So, if there's no danger, then why not give it a try?"
Allen met Vera's gaze. For a moment, it felt as though he had become Sol, being questioned under the weight of her scrutiny. "And then what happened?"
He voiced the question that anyone hearing this story would eventually ask.
The sorceress took another deep breath, closed her eyes, and her voice came as soft as ashes drifting over a grave.
"Unaffected by the influence of Arnaghad or Erland of Larvik, there were sixty-three witchers who remained in the Order and chose to follow Sol after embracing his ideology."
"Seven of them participated in the experiment."
"That night, originally only one of them was supposed to attempt condensing a Legacy Vessel. But all seven went mad almost simultaneously, their strength surging."
"In a blink, they decapitated eleven witchers who were caught completely off guard. Then they killed eight others who refused to fight their comrades, and left four permanently maimed."
"In the end, it was Sol himself who steeled his heart and put them down."
"In a single night, twenty-six witchers died."
"Nearly half of the witchers who had trusted Sol and followed him out of Morgraig perished."
"The camp lay in ruins after the battle. Corpses sprawled everywhere. Blood soaked the tents and snuffed out the fires."
'Whoo—'
Vera exhaled, the faint scent of orange mingled with cardamom in the air seemed laced with a metallic trace of blood.
"Since that day, no one has spoken of the Legacy Vessel again."
"In the end, Allen," she looked down at the witcher, "Condensing a Legacy Vessel might make it easier for a witcher to handle powerful monsters, but a prepared witcher fears no beast."
"It might prolong your life, but it won't save a witcher from dying day after day in battle."
Allen could hear the underlying message in Vera's words—she was still trying to persuade him. Don't chase after the Legacy Vessel. This path held no real promise.
At least not while both body and spirit were still far from their limits.
Still, Allen thought for a moment, then said: "I won't attempt to condense the Legacy Vessel before my strength has reached the proper level, but…"
He paused for a moment, then sincerely pleaded: "Lady Vera, could you tell me the general process of condensing a Legacy Vessel?"
The sorceress silently stared at Allen for a long time—so long that Allen thought she was going to refuse. Then she slowly inhaled to steady herself, tapped her knuckles against the stone wall three times, as if organizing her thoughts, and finally spoke: "Generally, there are three steps to condensing a Legacy Vessel."
"First, either the body or the mind must reach its absolute limit through various means. This is the hardest step of the three."
"It's slightly easier for sorcerers, but even after long years of research, there are fewer than fifteen sorcerers in the entire Brotherhood who've achieved mental perfection."
"But for witchers, it's almost impossible."
"Unlike sorcerers, who require innate talent but have stable methods to enhance their spirit, witchers constantly take contracts and hunt powerful monsters."
"Injuries—inevitable as they are—drag witchers down."
Hearing this, Allen suddenly recalled something. "So Verdant Sigh is…?"
"That's right," Vera nodded. "Its well-known properties—delaying aging, extending lifespan—aren't actually its primary purpose. The main goal was to treat hidden injuries."
With that—
Snap—
Vera flicked her fingers, and three vials of green potion appeared between them.
"If you want to condense a Legacy Vessel, you can't go without these potions."
"Take them. The revenue from Necrophage Oil and Specter Oil made my alchemy workshop plenty of coin. You've earned these."
She handed the three vials of Verdant Sigh to Allen.
Allen thought for a moment, then didn't refuse. He opened his reagent pouch and tucked the potions deep inside.
Given his relationship with Vera, there was no need to stand on ceremony.
And he truly needed this potion—not just for treating his own hidden injuries, but also for cases like Hughes's previous near-fatal wound. A single dose of Verdant Sigh might be enough to keep someone alive.
Vera watched with satisfaction as Allen accepted the potions. She nodded and continued: "Once your spirit or body has reached its peak, the second step is achieving a Great Feat."
"First, you engrave an emotional perception array onto your body using special materials—similar to etching enchantments onto alchemical tools."
"Though these ancient race sigils only detect emotion and have nothing to do with the feat itself…"
"…the moment one achieves a Great Feat isn't something that can be sensed like the first step."
"These sigils allow the emotional impact from each feat to be measured to some extent, helping predict when a feat might qualify."
"And then comes the feat itself."
"For a sorcerer, it might be academic—a contribution that influences humanity, or even the world."
"Spellcraft, alchemical tools, potions, biological enhancements…"
"There are many ways a sorcerer might achieve a Great Feat, though reaching the level required to condense a vessel takes deep and prolonged research."
"But for a witcher, there's really only one path."
"Hunting monsters?" Allen asked.
"That's right, hunting monsters," Vera nodded. "Hunting those that threaten human survival or inflict serious damage on the natural world."
She paused, then explained in detail: "Back at the secret passage, I mentioned that the main material of the Legacy Vessel is emotion—emotions gathered from sentient beings after your feat spreads, including praise, admiration, reverence, and awe."
"So when you break it down, a feat has two most important components: one is its reach—how many people know about it. The second is its impact—among those who know of it, how many are genuinely moved, how many praise it, admire it, acknowledge it..."
"Naturally, the more widely known and the more difficult the accomplishment, the faster the emotional resonance condenses."
"Of course, those two factors also influence each other and aren't separate."
"Trivial matters, no matter how widely they spread, are like stagnant puddles after rain—quick to evaporate without leaving a trace."
"But a grand feat, on the other hand, is like a resounding bell—it echoes far and wide, deeply and for a long time..."
Allen raised his eyebrows at that—something felt off.
He thought for a moment and asked, "If the main material is just emotion, can't it be faked or exaggerated?"
"Couldn't someone just hire a bunch of bards to blow the story out of proportion—or even make up some entirely fictional feats?"
The sorceress arched a brow and looked at Allen in surprise.
She had never imagined Allen would be someone with such... "flexible" principles.
"Some have tried," she said softly, "but it doesn't work."
Vera looked at him with eyes as clear and deep as rubies, then asked in return: "The sigil engraved into the body can only sense emotion, so..."
"Where do you think all those emotions used to condense the Legacy Vessel go?"
"Into the body, obviously..." Allen began instinctively, but as he pondered her words, his voice abruptly stopped.
Vera clearly hadn't intended to let him puzzle it out for long. "Humans can only retain memory. Even their own emotions come and go—let alone emotions from others."
Allen looked puzzled. He really couldn't figure out how abstract emotions could be used to form something like a Legacy Vessel.
"The Holy Grail lies not elsewhere, but in the reflection of every seeker."
Vera let out a faint sigh. "That's a quote from Herbert Stammelford, successor to Geoffrey Monck, the man who researched the Legacy Vessel—what they called the 'Holy Grail.'"
"A reflection is an illusion on the surface, belonging both to the seeker and to the world."
"Alzur described the reflection like this: the Holy Grail is the child born from the union of the seeker and the world."
"Even Geoffrey Monck, who unearthed the 'Holy Grail' from ancient race tombs, and Herbert Stammelford who continued his work—neither of them ever figured out exactly where that 'reflection of the seeker' truly lies."
"But sentient beings can be deceived. The world, however, cannot."
"All of a person's accomplishments will be revealed in full clarity at the moment they attempt to condense a Legacy Vessel—when it must resonate with the world."
"At that time, false emotions are like a palace built with shoddy materials—the more lies involved, the more unstable the structure. If the feats were completely fabricated, the palace could collapse just from walking through it."
"In the end, the Holy Grail—a power that breaks the limits of life itself—is the world's reward to its heroes. It cannot be defiled."
So there really are no shortcuts… Allen thought to himself.
"Believe me, Allen," Vera said, looking directly into his eyes. Her gaze held both deep sorrow and a fear buried so far down it was nearly invisible. "Every road that seems like a shortcut ultimately leads to a Hell."
"Walk the right path. Don't go astray."
Allen was slightly taken aback, then nodded earnestly. "I understand. I was just asking."
Vera nodded and didn't dwell on it further. She continued: "In the second stage of achieving a Great Feat, the seeker must find the path they'll follow for the rest of their life—and without straying from that path, accomplish their feats."
"They must also discover the vow they make to the world, and with each Great Feat, they must make that vow again, pouring their most intense emotions into it."
"Once the feats are of enough quality and quantity, and the 'reflection' has gathered sufficient emotion, that brings us to the third step."
"In a grand ritual, using that immense emotional force and their unwavering vow, the seeker knocks on the door of destiny."
"If they are qualified, the world will grant them the Holy Grail engraved with the words of their vow. That Grail becomes the vessel that can hold the power to transcend the limits of their species."
"Sorcerers call spiritual power 'Sage Force,' and physical power 'Almighty Force'…"
"Wait…" Allen caught onto something. "The Holy Grail that's engraved with the vow… what happens if someone breaks that vow?"
The sorceress raised her head and looked at a cobweb hanging beside the candlelight on the wall. Her voice lowered: "One who breaks their vow will naturally have the Holy Grail stripped away by an enraged world."
"So that's why the Chief lost his Legacy Vessel?"
"For an ordinary person, yes. Once the world takes back the Holy Grail, they'll also lose a considerable portion of their strength, but the world won't pursue it further…"
"But for the Chief, it's different?"
The sorceress lowered her head, her eyes dimmed. "Do you still remember Sol's title?"
"Dragonslayer?" Allen thought for a moment, uncertain. "Just now, in the illusion, I was struck by an intense draconic aura. It felt similar to what the Chief once released in front of me. I remember you called it 'Reverse Dragon's Might' back then, so…"
The sorceress nodded. "Dragons are favored by chaotic magic. The Reverse Dragon's Might that follows the slaying of a dragon isn't a reward—it's a warning to other dragons, a mark of hatred."
"And at its core, this so-called Reverse Dragon's Might is actually a fragment of the slain dragon's soul."
"This fragment clings to the soul of the dragonslayer. Under normal circumstances, nothing happens. But if the soul suffers extreme trauma…"
"The dead dragon's soul can reignite, gnawing away at the weakened soul until…"
Her voice choked, unable to finish.
Until death… Allen could infer the Chief's end from her tone. After a moment of silence, he hesitantly asked: "If I had someone else's Legacy Vessel, could the Chief be restored?"
The sorceress visibly flinched, her breath catching:
"?"
.....
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