Child of Miracle Was More Appealing Than Elder Blood

"How could it not be?"

Incredible whispers came from a messy pile of papers.

These papers are expensive Chiffon Paper, more valuable than silver, the finest material for conveying love, poetry, and music.

Unfortunately, their owners did not cherish them because of their price. They roughly carved and scribbled messy characters on them, then kneaded them into balls and discarded them carelessly.

"Splash—"

Another wad of Chiffon Paper, violently crumpled, traced an arc in mid-air before falling to the ground.

On the desk, the candle was weeping, and the wax residue on the candlestick had become a smudged mess.

The candlelight flickered.

"Why can't it be disproven?"

The murmurs came again from the messy pile of papers on the desk.

"Knock knock knock~"

A soft knock sounded on the door.

There was no response to the whispers; they seemed completely absorbed in their own world, oblivious to the sounds from the outside.

"Knock knock knock~"

The knocking sounded again, and at the same time, a worried female voice came from outside the door.

"Vigor~" she called out.

"Vigo~"

The whispering stopped abruptly.

A disheveled head suddenly lifted from the pile of papers; hair was messy, eye bags were deep, and face was pale...

But one can still vaguely make out a handsome face, but also a depressed mental state.

Instead, it gave him a morbid beauty.

He looked in the direction from which the sound came with his bloodshot eyes.

"Knock knock knock~"

"Vigo~"

Another shout came.

It seemed that only then did Vilgefortz realize that he should do something.

He channeled the slightly sluggish magical power within his body and gently waved his right hand.

"Click~"

The door lock was unlocked.

"What's wrong?" Vilgefortz asked wearily, looking at Lydia who walked in with a furrowed brow and a worried expression. "Has Senne managed to secure support from various countries, or are they planning to send someone into Blue Mountain to catch 'rabbits'?"

Lydia walked in without saying a word, but glanced at the messy environment of the study, her brows furrowing slightly.

With a wave of her hand, a slender mahogany staff appeared in her grasp.

Then with a gentle wave.

A gentle breeze suddenly arose in the study, opening the window to reveal a star-studded night sky before blowing onto the desk.

However, the wind didn't disturb the crumpled papers around Vilgefortz; instead, it replaced the candle that was down to its last stub, cleaned up the wax drippings on the candlestick, and then left the desk...

Then sweep all the crumpled paper on the ground together...

In just a minute or two, the study became much tidier.

Only the messy desk and the pale, disheveled Vilgefortz stood out against the clean environment.

Vilgefortz smiled helplessly, waved his hand, and tidied his messy hair and face.

Lydia nodded in satisfaction, raised her right hand, and with a wave of her staff in her left, summoned a pot of tea. "Six days have passed, and still no clue?"

"Thanks."

Vilgefortz nodded, thanked Lydia for refilling his tea, and then shook his head helplessly.

"Not yet," he said softly. "There's far less information about the Child of Miracle than I expected..."

"What we have found in the ancient elf tombs are all prophecies of the Elder Blood."

Vilgefortz sighed, "Ithlinne Egri Ap Aevynne, the ancient astrologer, prophet, and seer, her prophecies seem to have suddenly changed at some point in time."

"I don't know if it was done by a powerful figure, the king of the elves or the king of the humans, but there must have been an individual who altered the most important aspect of the prophecy..."

"Like Senne slandering Witchers and spreading rumors?" Lydia put down her teacup and replied.

Vilgefortz shrugged. "It could also be the founders of the Conclave of Sorcerers, Joffrey, James Becker, or Zambadista. Perhaps they used powerful magic to make everyone forget."

"Is magic really that powerful?" Lydia's eyes widened.

"I don't know," Vilgefortz shook his head. "I only know that even Henry Gedmiddis doesn't have the ability to enjoy capturing Djinn like Joffrey does."

"So..."

"Who knows how strong those old guys really are?"

Lydia nodded, indicating that she accepted the explanation.

Warlocks' control over magic is indeed declining, and some researchers have even made predictions and inferences about a future where there will be no more spellcasters.

The sorcerers who believe in apocalypse are actually the same group that persecutes witchers and advocates for the protection of endangered monsters.

Of course, Lydia didn't believe in that; she believed more in the magical tidal theory.

The world just happens to be at the trough of the demonic tide.

"But why did they do that?" Lydia asked.

"Yes..." Vilgefortz sighed again, "Why do this? Why revise a prophecy that has no impact on reality?"

"The prophecy of the Elder Blood can only be found in fragments from the tombs of the ancient elves..."

Why?

He murmured a question, then lowered Vilgefortz head, lost in deep thought, oblivious to everything else.

Lydia didn't rush to interrupt Vilgefortz's thoughts. Instead, she thought for a few seconds and then asked, "So you think the prophecy of the Child of Miracle is actually fake, forged by someone?"

Vilgefortz looked up, paused for a few seconds, and shook his head. "I don't know."

"But everything has a sequence, and only one of Ithlinne's Prophecy can exist. If one is true, the other must be false, unless..."

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Impossible," Vilgefortz chuckled and shook his head, denying it. "If it's not true, it's false. How could the goddess of fate allow two tributaries to exist simultaneously? And what could make fate ignore such a self-contradictory oversight..."

He spoke in a garbled manner, but Lydia understood. "So you think that witcher isn't the Child of Miracle."

Vilgefortz was silent for a moment, then could only nod. "I really hope he is, after all, this is... the closest we've ever come to transcendence, only a fourteen-year-old witcher away from that legendary, magnificent realm..."

"However, although Miguel was driven almost crazy by the pressure at the time, his prediction was correct."

"Compared to a witcher..."

"Despite being only fourteen years old, he made me feel threatened and had a series of legendary experiences."

"But compared to the Glutton's tragic death, the Conjunction of the Spheres, the bloody war waged by Ard and Kedwen with all their might, and the Wild Hunt's destruction of Ban Ad..."

"The possibility that the elves are the culprits is even higher."

Vilgefortz looked dejectedly out the window.

The starry sky hangs low, and the bright moon hangs on the spire of the tower in front, like the most beautiful crescent moon fluorite in the world.

"Lydia," Vilgefortz turned to the elegantly made-up Sorceress, "I mistook the reflection in the lake for the stars in the night sky..."

"Just as we were researching the Elder Blood and the Child of Miracle, a demon hunter genius suddenly appeared, and we forcibly aligned him with the prophecy..."

Seeing the disappointment on Vilgefortz's face, Lydia couldn't bear it and interrupted, "But there is no trace of him among the Stars of Ilar."

"I know, that's why I'm so conflicted." He sighed deeply and stood up from his seat.

Looking at the messy desk, Vilgefortz waved his right hand.

Piles of Chiffon Paper, covered with strange symbols, spontaneously combusted without fire, instantly floating into the air and transforming into a giant fireball, without affecting the large oak table at all.

"But I've been thinking about it these past few days," Vilgefortz continued, "Ailin is Lady Vesemir's apprentice, and it's well known that Vesemir had a very good relationship with the elves for a time, so it's perfectly normal for her to have one or two magical items that can shield ancient elves from detecting spells."

He finished speaking.

Vilgefortz looked at Lydia, seemingly unwilling to discuss the Child of Miracle any further, and changed the subject. "Lydia, is there something you need from me?"

Lydia looked at the raging flames on the table with a complicated expression, remained silent for two seconds, and then said:

"I just received a message..."

"Hmm~" Vilgefortz hummed and sat back in his high-backed chair.

His back was pressed upright against the velvet chair back, and the flickering firelight danced in his blue eyes.

"Haley from Aretuza told me that Summoning Ritual has occurred in Arland, with Monster's Nest offering sacrifices for the descent of Evil God..."

"How did the witch of Aretuza know about what happened in Arland?" Vilgefortz's curiosity was piqued.

"Tissaia de Veris, in accordance with the ancient covenant of Novigrad, sets out to exorcise the Evil God..."

"Ban Ade didn't receive any requests for help... That makes sense, the wizards are too busy to help Arland, so they simply didn't invite him." Vilgefortz spoke of Ban Ade with sarcasm, as if he were no longer Ban Ade's wizard.

"So..."

"Did it fail? The Evil God has descended upon Arland, and Haley sent you to ask for help?"

Vilgefortz tapped his index finger on the oak tabletop, pondering, "Tissaia de Veris is a respectable senior, and I will try my best to persuade Senne, but at this point, Ben Ad is helpless..."

"No," Lydia interrupted helplessly.

On the desktop, all that Vilgefortz had accomplished in a week was reduced to ashes.

Lydia said softly, "They succeeded. Although the Evil God descended, he was successfully driven away."

"Six Monster's Nest, Evil God descended, and was successfully banished?" Vilgefortz's index finger, which was tapping the table, paused for a second. "Did Tissaia de Veris banish it? What kind of magic did she use?"

"But even if such magic could be cast, wouldn't it come at a great cost?"

"Is Ms. Tissaia really that... uh... selfless?"

"It's not the Dean," Lydia shook her head slightly, "It's a witcher you also know..."

"The Witcher?" Vilgefortz was stunned for a moment.

Lydia didn't keep them in suspense. She glanced at the ashes in mid-air, which were no longer recognizable as Chiffon Paper, and sighed, "It's Ailin, the School of the Wolf witcher you thought was the Child of Miracle."

Vilgefortz stared in disbelief, his eyes widening as he abruptly rose from his high-backed chair. "Was it really Ailin? He banished the Evil God? How?"

"I don't know the exact method," Lydia said. "Haley only saw a white light, and then an explosion that was even more spectacular than a master-level spell."

"Oh, right, Ailin also tamed a Greater Griffin."

Vilgefortz felt his thoughts were somewhat disordered.

A witcher... banished Evil God... and created a commotion more astonishing than a master spell...

How are these elements connected together?

Vilgefortz was somewhat suspicious that Lydia was lying to him, but looking at the cool but serious face in front of him, he knew that Lydia was telling the truth.

At least the message she received from the Sorceress in Aretuza was real.

"Ailin..."

"Ailin..."

Vilgefortz muttered the name of a School of the Wolf witcher, his eyes growing brighter and brighter as if he were going mad.

Even with the combined strength of Aretuza 'Arland native army and priests, the possibility of exorcising a Summoning Ritual with six Monster's Nest is virtually nonexistent...

A demon hunter who only knows how to wield a sword and use some rudimentary signs could never possibly create the commotion of a master-level spell...

Moreover, the idea of a witcher banishing Evil God is even more impossible...

Impossible... Impossible... Impossible...

So many impossibilities, yet they eventually became reality.

What is this if not a miracle?

The more Vilgefortz thought about it, the more he felt that the concept of the Child of Miracle was more realistic than the still unrealized concept of the Elder Blood.

Perhaps the concept of the Elder Blood became the Child of Miracle because Ithlinne herself changed it while she was still alive...

He had actually had this idea before, but it was too casual and far-fetched.

But all things considered, it's not impossible, after all, Ithlinne is Long-lived race elf, with a lifespan of at least several hundred years.

He became somewhat excited and was about to sit back down, retracing his research from the past few days to reorganize his thoughts...

The ashes, now free from magical control, drifted down from mid-air, swaying precariously.

Vilgefortz's body stiffened instantly.

His work over the past week has been reduced to ashes.

"You're casting spells too fast."

Seeing Vilgefortz cast his stiff gaze at her, Lydia smiled apologetically.

"It's alright..." Vilgefortz sighed elegantly, "It's only been a few days..."

"Etc..."

Vilgefortz suddenly had a flash of inspiration, remembering what Lydia had just said.

"Lydia, you just said that Ailin tamed a Greater Griffin?"

"That's right," Lydia nodded. "Haley also specifically emphasized that the Greater Griffin was tamed by Ailin, not Vesemir."

Vilgefortz was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Kedwen is in trouble, but it's been almost two weeks, it's too late..."

He had only spoken halfway when Vilgefortz suddenly stood up and looked out the window.

Lydia cautiously followed his gaze, but the night sky outside the window was quiet and there was nothing unusual.

"What's wrong, Vigo?"

"The Wild Hunt is back!"