Aristo shouted for Allen to "come quickly," but before he could finish speaking, he leapt down from a steep slope twice the height of a man and landed directly in front of Allen.
"Uh… Allen, are you training apprentices now?"
Aristo tilted his head, glancing at the training grounds.
Allen nodded and led him to a quiet corner, asking, "Did Tomas Moreau confess? Was it about the second mutation or the laboratory?"
"The lab," Aristo didn't beat around the bush, speaking excitedly. "According to your plan, Lady Ida Emean pried out the lab's location first. Just as you said, it's in Toussaint, in a ruin once called the Valley of Nine, beneath the Sansretour River."
The Valley of Nine was near Toussaint's capital, Beauclair. It used to be a valley inhabited by elves.
However, years ago—supposedly during the twilight of the Elven royal court—the unyielding elves cast powerful magic, altering the heavens and redirecting the Sansretour River, flooding the entire valley.
Some claim it was actually a ruthless act by human mages determined to wipe out the elven race.
Regardless of which tale is true, the Valley of Nine became history, buried beneath the riverbed of the Sansretour.
Allen, who had experienced this second mutation arc in the game, was of course familiar with the keywords: Beauclair, Sansretour River, and the ruins of the Valley of Nine.
But he had already compared the in-game map with reality.
The story developments might align, but the terrain was vastly different from the game.
Just like Kaer Morhen.
The ancient fortress bore no resemblance to its in-game counterpart.
And that wasn't just because the fortress was destroyed in the game. Even its foundational layout and structure were completely different.
It simply wasn't the same place.
Likewise, the location of Killer's Lake, Old Speartip's Cave, and the Elemental Ring were all entirely different.
That's why, even though Allen recognized those keywords, he didn't search on his own. He waited for news from Ida Emean.
Beauclair was the largest city in Toussaint. The Sansretour was not as gentle as the Pontar—it was even broader upstream than the Pontar.
Trying to find the location with just those vague traits would be like searching forever without result.
"What's the exact location?" Allen pressed.
"They gave us the full details," said Aristo. "Lady Vera said just a few portals would get us there directly."
"Right now, Vera and Lady Ida Emean are in the castle hall. They told me to ask you what you plan to do."
Logically speaking, since the coordinates had been found and the place could be reached via portal, all they needed was Allen's confirmation before taking action. But for some reason, both Vera and Ida Emean insisted that Allen make the decision.
"What about the second mutation details?" Allen asked instead of answering.
"Not yet," Aristo shook his head. "To get something out of him quickly, Lady Ida Emean used some... aggressive methods."
"Tomas Moreau needs some time to recover, but we've got a breakthrough. It should be within two weeks."
Allen nodded. "Then let's go today. Once I give some instructions to Fred, Erni, and the others, we'll set off."
"I'll go inform Vera and Lady Ida Emean, see if they need to make any more preparations."
With that, Aristo turned and walked off quickly.
But after taking two steps, he suddenly paused, hesitated, then said with his back turned: "Allen, this 'second mutation' of yours… can it really cure Sol?"
"…Forget it, never mind," Aristo dismissed his own question before Allen could reply. "Just get things ready. I'll go notify Vesemir and Danthe to wait for you in the castle hall."
With that, Aristo walked away without looking back.
Allen watched him leave, letting out a deep sigh in his heart.
He knew Aristo didn't want to put too much pressure on him. Vesemir and Danthe, the two veteran witchers from the School of the Wolf, were the same.
Ever since learning about Sol's condition, these three witcher masters had shown even more concern than Allen himself.
And since they weren't bound by Allen's "no dungeon visits" rule, they'd practically been living in the dungeon for a while—until Ida Emean kicked them out for interfering with the interrogation.
But even then, after Vesemir asked Allen a single question, the three—like Vera—had never shown up in front of him again, as if afraid of burdening him further.
Allen took a long breath.
If not for these bonds and affections rooted so deeply in his heart, who would choose to remain at Kaer Morhen, risking their life, planning this and scheming that?
Wouldn't it be better to live as a noble in Aedirn, a knight in Kaedwen, or a holy son in Melitele?
Honestly, he was starting to understand why Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert in the original story would do anything to return to Kaer Morhen each winter.
Back at the training ground—
"Allen, what did Master Aristo want?"
Allen turned his head at the voice.
The one who asked was Fred, panting slightly, unable to hide the joy and excitement on his face.
Around him, in what had been a barren and dusty training ground, lush wild grasses had suddenly sprouted—denser and denser toward the center.
After seven days of instruction and training, the first witcher had finally managed to cast Battle Cry: Wild Speech.
Given Fred's encounter with the Leshen, where he experienced what seemed like a natural element-based miracle, it wasn't surprising he was the first to succeed. However…
Fred's Battle Cry: Wild Speech seemed a bit different from Allen's own—at least from the original version Allen once used.
[Skill Name: Wild Speech]
[Type: Beast Roar]
[Learning Requirements: Introductory mastery of the Way of Beast Roars, and proficiency in "Beast Roar: Berserk"]
[Passive Effects: By maintaining the energy flow of "Wild Speech" in daily life, the user can:
1. Slowly enhance their Perception attribute.
2. Reduce hostility from low-intelligence creatures.]
[Active Effect: Consumes energy. Allows the Roarer to perceive the thoughts of low-intelligence creatures and transmit simple commands.]
[Note: Are you sure the Way of Beast Roars isn't just Druidry in disguise?]
The original Wild Speech was similar to the Axii Sign—it could influence the minds of animals and monsters, and even commune with the Mother of Nature.
However, Fred's version seemed… different.
He could use Wild Speech to influence the growth of nearby plants.
It felt oddly familiar—very reminiscent of the vine-proliferating powers of a Leshen.
Allen glanced at the young excited witchers and apprentices nearby and casually said, "Some things involving an alliance with the elves…"
Matters like the second mutation, Tomas Moreau, and Sol were all confidential—he naturally couldn't speak about them publicly. So Allen casually changed the subject.
"I see." Fred nodded, but it was clear he had no interest in that topic.
Noticing the expression on Fred's face, Allen glanced at the surrounding witchers and apprentices. He paused for a moment, then nodded in approval: "You really do have talent for 'Battle Roar: Wild Speech.'"
"Keep practicing. Once you're more proficient, try seeing if you can control the plants within your Roar's area of effect."
"Like how the Leshen manipulates vines?" Fred asked curiously.
Allen gave the thriving weeds on the ground a glance and nodded, "Keep working at it—you should be able to do it."
"Mm!"
Fred nodded firmly, and for the first time in a while, a bright smile lit up his young face.
Ever since Allen appointed him as captain, Fred had been under enormous pressure. His strength had only risen to match Erni and Klar's level because of Allen's support.
He wasn't just representing himself anymore.
He now represented Hughes and Bond—both still bedridden in the Temple of Melitele—as well as Allen's entire generation of witchers.
He didn't want to bring shame upon them because of his own shortcomings.
Now, having surpassed the other young witchers through his own effort, becoming the first to learn Wild Speech, and receiving Allen's praise, he could finally breathe a little easier.
"Fred's done well. He's already grasped the essentials of Wild Speech," Allen turned to the other witchers and apprentices, raising his voice, "The rest of you, ask him questions and learn from him. Master Wild Speech as soon as possible."
"The first few who master it will be in for a surprise."
The surrounding young witchers and apprentices instantly grew excited.
"A surprise?!"
"Captain, what kind of surprise?"
Allen smiled mysteriously. "One you'll definitely be satisfied with."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the young witchers and apprentices rushed to the training grounds, swarming around Fred and bombarding him with eager questions.
Fred looked a little flustered, but his whole demeanor had changed. His face, once gloomy, had completely brightened. It was like he had returned to the days before the apprentice dueling tournament at Ban Ard.
Allen watched with a gratified smile.
The aftermath of the Drakenborg incident hadn't ended just because they'd left Redania or because Hughes and Bond were no longer in danger.
On the contrary, that had only marked the beginning.
Allen didn't need to think hard to empathize with Fred's awkwardness in the past few days.
Even if Erni and Klar bore no ill will, it must've stung for Fred to see the apprentices he had once mentored surpass him so completely.
That kind of inferiority and unease was hard to hide.
And it wasn't just Fred. Even Danthe had returned from this mission in a defeated state.
After returning, he had a deep conversation with Fred—then entrusted the boy to Allen.
At the time, Master Danthe looked worn out, with a blank stare in his eyes.
But Danthe wasn't someone Allen could help—not anymore. He wasn't truly part of the team, and Allen had too much on his plate to take that on.
Hughes and Bond would likely face the same issues later, and Fred's case could serve as a reference.
Allen never cared much about the raw talent of the witchers in his corps.
After all, with heart essence potions and purified spirits, attributes could be enhanced rapidly. War merit points could strengthen skills.
Even a total novice—Allen could train them into someone capable of standing against thousands.
He cared about loyalty.
Hughes, Bond, and Fred would become the most reliable core of the future Witcher Corps, and were worth investing extra resources into.
Fred had the innate talent gained from his encounter with the Leshen, which helped him stand out among the witchers. But Hughes and Bond would need more effort and attention.
With matters on the Witcher Corps' side settled, Allen had no intention of staying any longer.
He tilted his head and instructed, "Mary, I'm leaving this in your hands. I should be back soon."
"You just love bossing people around!" Mary muttered, then glanced around sneakily and asked, "What about that owl? She's not going with you?"
"Philippa's busy today," Allen replied softly. "And besides, she's not like you—some things concerning the Wolf School aren't for her to know."
It was, in fact, a fortunate coincidence.
Philippa Eilhart had suddenly received a communication request from Aretuza, so she canceled today's training. Otherwise, Allen wouldn't have had time to check on Fred and the others' training.
At this moment, Philippa Eilhart was probably in his room, fiddling with the communication mirror.
He wondered what kind of news might be coming from Aretuza.
Could there be changes in the situation in Kaedwen?
Mary's lips curved with satisfaction at his words, and she waved her hand playfully, "Go on then! Go!"
"I'll keep an eye on them for you."
Allen chuckled, cast one last glance at the lively training grounds, and walked off toward the castle without looking back.
-----------------------------------
Castle Hall
"You're sure you're not going?"
By the fireplace, a female elf dressed in a soft yellow gown with a green sash brushed her vermilion hair away from her forehead.
She was Ida Emean, a Aen Saevherne, skilled in mental magic.
"No," said Vera, her voice tired as she stared at the doors, not turning her head. "Sol still needs me—I don't have time to leave."
"You really believe this so-called secondary mutation can save Sol?"
Ida Emean cast a sideways glance at the visibly awkward Vesemir, Aristo, and Danthe—three masters of the Wolf School—and sent a thought directly into Vera's mind: "He may be the Child of Miracles, but not that miraculous."
"No one can learn a brand new discipline from nothing, let alone refine it in such a short time."
"Genetic mutation theory isn't like divination, where even a novice might catch a glimpse of fate's threads."
"Tomas Moreau may have been a certified madman, but he went far down the road of genetic mutations."
Vera said nothing, and Ida understood her answer.
"It's time to let go, Vera," she whispered into Vera's mind, her gaze soft with pity. "Better a quick and honorable death than a slow, anonymous one filled with pain…"
Creak~
The doors swung open, and a beam of sunlight spilled into the hall, cutting Ida's words short.
"My Child of Miracles has arrived," Vera murmured, watching the figure silhouetted against the sun. She took a deep breath. "He will bring us a miracle—you came here for that very reason, didn't you?"
Pity deepened in Ida's eyes.
"I came for the Child of Miracles to fulfill the duty spoken of in prophecy. You, on the other hand, truly expect him to create miracles."
"Vera… the Child of Miracles is but one born because of a miracle."
"You're expecting far too much…"
...
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