Vesemir's sigh carried a story.
But clearly, it wasn't a happy one.
Since Vesemir didn't take the initiative to share, Allen had no intention of asking either.
Besides, he could already guess that the story's background was tied to Kaedwen, the land where the School of the Wolf had taken root for nearly a century.
When Sol helped put Kaedwen's orphaned mother and child on the throne, the School of the Wolf had only recently broken away from the Order of Witchers.
Or perhaps "broken away" wasn't the right term...
Thirty years after the Order of Witchers was established, the once dangerous and chaotic world had begun to stabilize due to the presence of witchers. With their mission accomplished, Alzur and Cosimo developed new ambitions, stepped down, and left the Order.
Without its leaders, the Order's unity started to waver, and the cohesion that had once existed on the surface began to dissolve.
Eventually, one year, Arnaghad, unable to tolerate the Order's lofty ideals, injured a fellow witcher in a dispute over a contract.
This led to an irreconcilable conflict with those who upheld the Order's creed, led by Erland. The tension escalated into a large-scale bloodbath, tearing the Order apart in the most disgraceful manner.
Arnaghad took those who agreed with his philosophy and left the Kaedwenian mountains, founding the School of the Bear.
Next came the second group, who sought higher social standing. Like-minded individuals who favored owl-shaped pendants ventured south, becoming the ancestors of what would later be the School of the Cat.
Then, there were those who adhered most strictly to the Order's principles and upheld the chivalric code—Erland and his thirteen close companions.
Allen couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Erland, one of the Order's most famous witchers, even considered a co-founder, to watch the worsening atmosphere and growing tensions at Morgraig Castle after his conflict with Arnaghad.
But in the end, he left, heading west to Kovir, where he founded the School of the Griffin.
As for the School of the Wolf...
The Wolf Witchers were the last to leave Morgraig Castle.
In other words, they had watched their spiritual refuge, the Order of Witchers, collapse before their very eyes while holding onto a slightly different, yet still related, philosophy.
Allen could hardly imagine the state of mind in which Sol left at that time...
Was it reluctance? Determination? Or relief?
The Wolf Witcher masters all deliberately avoided discussing the Order's past, which suggested it wasn't a pleasant topic.
So then...
Why did they choose Kaedwen and Kaer Morhen?
What were the attitudes of the local villagers, nobles, and the king?
It couldn't have been the same as it was now.
Perhaps Sol, as First Witcher, had also once saved humanity from crises that threatened to wipe out villages and cities, earning gratitude and cheers, even being elevated to a high position.
The king even created an official court position specifically for the School of the Wolf as advisors on monsters.
The witchers who followed Sol away from Morgraig had once been celebrated, honored with one grand title after another.
Ultimately, if Kaedwen now had the luxury of discriminating against witchers, it was only because the School of the Wolf had done their job of monster hunting too well.
Witchers live for centuries, but humans are forgetful.
Respect for heroes fades in the face of daily survival, noble interests, and royal ambition.
---------------------
A sharp cry from the royal griffin snapped Allen out of his thoughts.
The sun was sinking behind the mountains, spilling its last golden light onto the shoulders of the temple.
Prayers rose in wisps from all around, forming an invisible barrier that kept the fervor of Ellander's citizens outside the temple's high walls.
Allen found the contrast amusing.
The most peaceful place in Ellander was, of all things, the one place that should have been the most passionate—Melitele's temple.
"Maybe it's because of Ianna and Nenneke…" Allen mused.
A series of heavy thuds broke the serene atmosphere.
Still several meters above the ground, the young witchers couldn't resist unclasping their harnesses and leaping from the royal griffin's talons.
"Finally home!" Clay flopped onto the grass the moment he landed.
Claral glanced around wordlessly.
This part of the temple complex was deep enough that no one else was around.
Perhaps Ianna had anticipated their arrival—she had arranged a resting spot for "Good Girl" two or three days ago.
But the griffin had never actually stayed there overnight. One flap of her wings, and she'd fly back to her nest in the Adrel Mountains.
She had eggs to hatch—she was a good, devoted mother.
Seeing no one else nearby, Claral let out a relieved sigh and tidied his wind-tossed hair.
"Stop looking," Ice grinned, patting Claral's shoulder. "Your Nina is probably in the dining hall right now. If you go, you might still catch her—"
"Shut up!" Claral shot him a glare.
But perhaps because he was exhausted from the day's travel, or maybe because his relationship with the priestess-in-training named Nina had already been exposed, he seemed resigned to his fate.
After a single glare, Claral only gave Ice a half-hearted kick before dropping the subject.
"Captain, where's the surprise?" Erni looked around in confusion, walking toward Allen.
The other young witchers stopped messing around and turned toward the royal griffin.
"Try using an Heliotrop Sign …" Allen said as he dismounted, patting Good Girl's wing.
"Screecch!"
The royal griffin immediately took to the sky, quickly disappearing into the horizon.
"Heliotrop Sign?"
The young witchers paused for a moment before exchanging knowing glances. In an instant, their exhaustion from the entire day seemed to vanish.
They had figured out the surprise—"The Gaze of the Witcher's Eye."
Although the Heliotrop Sign wasn't commonly used, who could refuse a sudden leap in skill?
Especially after just being provoked into improving.
After greeting Allen and Vesemir in unison, they eagerly found a corner, paired up, and began testing each other's Igni and Heliotrop Signs.
As dusk cast golden patterns on the temple's columns, Vesemir leaned against the trunk of an ancient oak, absentmindedly rubbing his wolf's head medallion.
The witcher master's amber eyes reflected the flickering magic at the young witchers' fingertips—the soft violet glow of the Heliotrop Sign countering the onrushing red sparks of fire.
Such precise elemental control should have required five years of relentless effort, yet it seemed as though experience had sprung forth from thin air, growing wildly like ivy.
"It's almost like a miracle personally granted by Melitele."
Watching the traveling apprentices rapidly master the Heliotrop Sign—achieving in mere moments what should have taken months—left Vesemir momentarily dazed.
Even though he had witnessed similar scenes multiple times, whether in swordsmanship or sign casting, it still felt unreal.
What once required years, even decades of grueling training to ingrain into the body was now being grasped effortlessly in complete silence.
Of course, he felt envious.
If he had a leader like Allen back when he first passed the Trial of the Grasses, he would have likely become a witcher master in half the time.
But that was the extent of his emotions—he no longer dwelled on it.
Because he knew that if this ability could be used on him, Allen would have already done so.
And that made sense.
A person cannot teach others skills they do not possess themselves.
His expertise was still above Allen's, meaning there was no way for Allen to accelerate his growth.
Besides, such rapid advancement surely came at a cost—otherwise, Allen wouldn't wait so long between each instance of "The Gaze of the Witcher's Eye."
"At this rate, even Clay, who can fall asleep in the saddle, might surpass me before long..."
Vesemir knew he should be happy for the bright future of the School of the Wolf.
Yet a bitter vine coiled around his heart.
The hollow emotions suddenly felt as if they had weight, pressing down on his heart, making it difficult to breathe.
"Vesemir?"
"Vesemir?"
"What?" Vesemir snapped back to reality, seeing Allen looking at him with concern.
"Are you alright, Vesemir?"
"I'm fine, just thinking about something." Vesemir wiped his face with both hands before asking, "What is it, Allen? Do you need me to guide Erni and the others, or spar with them?"
"Clay and Ice's Igni and Aard are still too weak to properly test the limits of the Heliotrop Sign…"
"Are you really okay?"
"What kind of nonsense are you talking about?" Vesemir gave Allen a sidelong glance. "I didn't even get to fight a single necrophage today. What could possibly be wrong?"
"Right now, I could take down all seven of Erni's group by myself…"
"At least five times!" He held up five gloved fingers.
"That won't be necessary," Allen said, assuming the conversation on the griffin's back had stirred up Vesemir's memories of the past but choosing not to dwell on it. "Let them stay here and train. We should head back first…"
Head back now?
Vesemir hesitated, glancing in confusion toward the corner where the young witchers were locked in heated duels.
---------------------
Inside the temple, in the witchers' quarters.
"What's this?" Vesemir shook the large crystal bottle in his palm.
The pale red liquid swirled inside, faintly glowing with a weak magical radiance.
"An essence extract from alghoul's heart—ten doses' worth," Allen explained, leaning against the wall. "I had it prepared before the summoning ritual, but I was worried that boosting your attributes too quickly might be dangerous. That's why I'm only giving it to you now."
With that, Allen focused his mind and cast an appraisal on Vesemir.
[Name: Vesemir]
[Attributes: Strength 53, Agility 63, Constitution 68, Perception 84, Mysticism 54 (+1)]
Huh?
Allen was a bit surprised.
The last time he checked Vesemir's attributes was during the ambush on Vilgefortz.
It had only been half a month, yet Vesemir's Mysticism had increased by one point.
That didn't match his usual rate of improvement.
'Maybe his exceptionally high Perception triggered a sudden growth in Mysticism…' Allen speculated internally.
"No, give it to someone else." Vesemir shook his head and handed the crystal bottle back to Allen. "I'm not just being polite. After taking your last potion, I can feel that my body has already reached its limit."
"Even if there are no side effects, it would just be a waste—"
"It's not a waste." Allen pushed the ghoul heart essence extract back toward him. "I've already finished my share. The last potion increased Perception, while this one enhances Strength and Constitution."
"Just take a small sip first—one dose—to see the effects."
Allen wasn't entirely sure if Vesemir could still improve his other attributes after maxing out his Perception.
So it was better to be cautious.
Besides, the door was open.
The witchers' quarters were close to Ianna, Nenneke, and the other priests' chambers, and the temple's infirmary wasn't far either.
With Allen's speed, if anything went wrong, he could get Vesemir to Ianna within two minutes.
Melitele's divine magic could save Vesemir under any circumstances. That was why Allen wanted Vesemir to take the potion here rather than elsewhere.
Otherwise, since the ghoul heart essence extract had none of the dramatic effects of other essences and purifying spirits, Vesemir could've just sipped it like sugar water while simultaneously correcting the apprentices' Sign techniques.
Strength… Constitution…
Vesemir hesitated for a moment before finally accepting it. He removed the stopper from the crystal bottle and tilted it back.
The pale red liquid formed a thin line, sliding effortlessly down the witcher master's throat.
"How does it feel?"
Allen watched Vesemir's expression closely, ready to scoop up the witcher master in a princess carry and sprint out at any moment.
Vesemir frowned slightly. "It seems... it seems like there's no problem..."
What does "no problem" mean?
No effect?
Allen immediately cast another appraisal, tapping Vesemir on the forehead.
[Name: Vesemir]
[Attributes: Strength 56 (+3), Agility 63, Constitution 71 (+3), Perception 84, Mysticism 54]
It worked!
Allen let out a sigh of relief.
"It worked, it's full—" Before he could finish speaking, Vesemir suddenly seemed to notice something.
His golden cat-like eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Gulp~ Gulp~"
Without hesitation, Vesemir tilted his head back and drank the entire crystal bottle of ghoul heart essence in one go.
[Name: Vesemir]
[Attributes: Strength 64 (+8), Agility 63, Constitution 78 (+7), Perception 84, Mysticism 54]
The semi-transparent display above Vesemir's head flickered rapidly as the numbers increased.
Seeing Constitution nearly reach 80, just like Perception, Allen instinctively stepped closer, raising both hands—even though, if something really went wrong, this small distance wouldn't make much difference.
A moment later—
"Hoo~"
Vesemir exhaled deeply.
The breath shot forward like an arrow, snuffing out a wall-mounted lantern three meters away and leaving a visible scratch on the wooden wall.
"How do you feel?" Allen lowered his hands quietly, unable to suppress the smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
"Like I've been reborn."
Vesemir burst into hearty laughter.
His laughter echoed through the small room, shaking the wooden charms hanging from the ceiling.
"It works," Allen thought.
The one-eyed wraith's purification spirit had only failed because Vesemir's Perception had already hit its limit—it wasn't because Vesemir himself had reached his peak.
Now, they just needed to find the right essence extracts and purification spirits to boost Strength, Agility, and Mysticism. Combined with training in the Path of the Roar, Vesemir's power would soon catch up.
Soon... he'll catch up.
Allen couldn't help but repeat the thought in his mind.
[Name: Allen]
[Health: 100%, Stamina: 680/680, Mana: 840/840]
[Attributes: Strength 80, Agility 64, Constitution 68, Perception 85, Mysticism 84]
At some point—without even realizing it—the goal he had once dreamed of chasing back at the Ancient Sea Fortress had quietly fallen behind him.
Watching Vesemir eagerly testing his newfound strength, Allen took a deep breath.
"Vesemir is done with his upgrades, and his weakened state has passed. Now it's my turn to turn my spoils into power."
[Inventory: Element of @#￥%& 1, Flesh Core of the Summoning Ritual 1, Rotting Lord's Heart Essence 1, Monster Nest's Core 5, Heart Essence of the Scurver 7, Heart Essence of the Rotfiend 1...]
He still had no idea what "@#￥%&'s Element" actually did...
.....
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