Primal Magic?!!

"After a long period of rest, a sudden and intense battle will not only be difficult for the muscles to withstand, but the pressure on the internal organs will also reach its peak..."

"It's not just about rehabilitation training after serious injuries; a certain amount of warm-up should be done before every battle..."

"Of course, if something happens suddenly, that's another story..."

"But don't you Witchers of the School of the Wolf all believe that 'the outcome of a battle is already decided the moment a commission is accepted'?"

"Why not incorporate thorough warm-up into battle preparations... Don't dismiss my words; I've seen the High Priest's research on the physical structure of the School of the Wolf Witchers..."

"Although you are extraordinary and have long lifespans, the structure of your organs is no different from that of ordinary people..."

Although Vesemir was not familiar with Nannick, the temple's designated next High Priest, they had met before.

In fact, the relationship between the School of the Wolf and the Temple of Melitele was not bad, due to the delicate relationship between Chieftain Soyer and Lady Vesemir, as well as the close relationship between Lady Vesemir and High Priest Ianna.

Often, when Witchers are injured while accepting quests in Temeria, they come to the temple for treatment.

Due to the immense prestige of the Temple of Melitele among the common people, when encountering difficult employers or tight-lipped witnesses, the Witchers of the School of the Wolf would sometimes ask the temple's priests to act as intermediaries...

Not to mention the Temple of Melitele, which is the largest employer of the School of the Wolf and the initiator of a massive number of high-quality commissions.

When accepting a commission from the Temple of Melitele, you don't even have to worry about the messy things like land disputes and rights allocation that are unrelated to the commission itself but that you can't help getting involved in, unlike most commissions...

Therefore, Vesemir actually had a very good relationship with the Temple of Melitele.

Even more than a decade ago, before Chieftain Soyer and Lady Vesemir had a major falling out for some unknown reason, he was a regular visitor to the temple, and unsurprisingly, he would make a trip to the Temple of Melitele every year.

To put it bluntly...

Given Nannick's age, it's highly likely that Vesemir held her when she was a child.

But he never knew that Nannick was such a talkative person. Along the way, his brain, that of a Witcher Master, was getting a little dizzy from all the nagging.

"Although the abnormal drug modifications have made your adrenal medulla far more developed and your reactions faster than normal, but..."

"I'll teach you a few moves to better avoid accidental injuries..."

Nannick continued talking to himself in a way that was incomprehensible.

He knew nothing about adrenal medulla, adrenaline, the reticular structure of muscle fascia, or the relationship between respiratory oxygen levels and heartbeats/obstruction...

If you're not injured, just swing your sword and slash; if you get injured, heal your wounds—that's all there is to it...

Witchers have been doing this for centuries, and they will continue to do so.

certainly.

Vesemir only dared to think this to himself.

It wasn't that he was afraid of Nannick, a girl in her early twenties, but he was corrected the whole way after only speaking his mind once on the road.

Nannick's righteous and eloquent speech was full of incomprehensible platitudes, making it impossible to refute.

Who can handle this...?

"Buzz~"

The School Emblem suddenly flickered on the leather armor.

Vesemir suddenly looked up at the Wooden Hut not far away.

"Don't underestimate it... What's wrong?"

Nannick was interrupted by the Witcher Master's unusual movements. He frowned slightly and looked at the ferocious wolf head badge on the Master's chest.

"Nothing..."

Having discerned the direction of the magical fluctuations, Vesemir shook his head.

This is the Temple of Melitele, and that's Ailin's residence. It's just a little magical fluctuation, nothing serious...

"Yi—"

The sound of the School Emblem vibrating suddenly became extremely high-pitched and sharp.

The ferocious wolf head suddenly leaped off the leather armor, causing Vesemir's eyes to widen in surprise.

Before he could even figure out why Ailin was making such a commotion in his room...

"Boom!"

It suddenly erupted from the Wooden Hut, carrying an immense, earth-shattering pressure.

The dust on the ground was stirred up, like waves of a tsunami, rushing towards us.

When Vesemir was caught off guard and struck by this pressure, an indescribable sense of insignificance welled up in his heart, as if he were standing at the foot of the misty Blue Mountain, facing a colossal mountain with towering peaks.

But the deathly intent that had frozen his soul followed, like the River Styx from mythology gushing from a crack in the earth and flowing past him.

They must drive his soul out of his body and rob him of all his life.

A moment of disorientation.

When he came to his senses, he realized that he was still standing in the same place, neither crushed by the mountain nor having his soul taken away by the silent River Styx.

"What...what is that?" Nannick's face was pale, and his pupils trembled.

"God..." Vesemir could hardly suppress the instinctive fear rising within him, "That's Evil God ..."

At the same time, waves of thought surged through my mind.

There's no mistake, that's Evil God.

He had seen that suffocating, terrifying shadow, seemingly capable of devouring everything, in the dragon-like, ferocious single eye...

Why did the Evil God behind the Summoning Ritual unleash such powerful divine might at the temple of Meritellie?

Could it be...?

His dark golden pupils suddenly contracted into molten gold slits, trembling with fear.

"Ailin!"

"Ailin!"

Vesemir screamed in terror as he rushed toward the Wooden Hut, which was shrouded in dust.

Evil God... in the goddess's temple?

Having never experienced anything like this before, Nannick stood there stunned for a second, his mind filled with disbelief and absurdity.

She instinctively wanted to refute it, but the divine power still lingering in the drifting dust told her otherwise.

This is true!

There really is a "He" who freely releases his oppressive aura in the goddess's territory.

"What does He want to do?!"

Nannick instinctively followed Vesemir, who was gradually disappearing into the dust and mist, and rushed towards the Wooden Hut, but stopped after running two steps.

She's a priestess, not a witcher.

Even though the goddess has recently gathered more and more divine favor, she is no match for her master. Rushing in rashly will only drag Ailin and Vesemir down with her.

If an Evil God were to descend upon the Temple of Melitele, she must inform the High Priest immediately.

Ailin...

The thought that Ailin hadn't made any move yet made Nannick's heart sink.

Even Ailin was subdued so quietly, could it be that Evil God has really descended?

Can...

Such a massive Summoning Ritual ultimately failed, making it impossible for the gods to descend.

How could Evil God descend silently into the territory of another deity?

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, and Nannick couldn't figure out where she had gone wrong. But once she made her decision, she clutched the hem of her plain dress and resolutely rushed toward the hall where Ianna was.

But before she could even run a few steps...

"Priestess Nannick!"

Suddenly, Vesemir's shouts echoed from within the thick dust and fog.

Nannick stopped.

She turned around, but did not respond, nor did she walk toward the source of the sound.

She cautiously backed away, glancing in the direction of the sound.

"Phew~"

A sudden gust of wind swept out from the depths of the smoke, Nannick, caught off guard, took two steps back before the dust that had blurred his vision was blown away.

Under the starry sky, the wooden cabin stands on the gloomy grass.

A lamp swayed under the eaves.

But it was just a lamp swaying; the commotion of the mountain collapsing seemed to be nothing more than an illusion.

Nannick stopped walking instinctively, only to suddenly realize...

Sometime later, the terrifying divine power that once sent chills down one's spine had completely vanished without a trace.

"It's alright, Priestess Nannick..."

Vesemir pushed the wooden door open halfway, his expression a complex mix of emotions that was hard for Nannick to describe.

After saying half a sentence, he paused and hesitated before saying, "It should be fine."

"What do you mean?" Nannick still didn't rush over. Instead, he carefully observed Vesemir from head to toe, offered a few prayers, and then cast a few golden rays of light onto him before finally relaxing completely.

If Evil God can not only silently descend upon a temple, but also shield the goddess's Divine Art within the temple of Meritellie...

Whether she escapes or notifies the High Priest is ultimately meaningless.

Moreover, his arrogance just now, as if he wanted all the Arlanders to know the oppressive power of "His" descent, is the opposite of his petty trick of concealing and shielding Divine Art.

Vesemir allowed Nannick to do as he pleased.

Once the Divine Art light faded from his body and Nannick relaxed from his initial shock, he quickly said:

"Priestess Nannick, come and see what's wrong with Ailin..."

"Something's strange..."

strangeness?

Nannick approached with a puzzled look.

Inside the half-open wooden door, it was pitch black, as if a ferocious beast was hiding there.

Only when she reached Vesemir did she faintly see a sliver of light coming from inside the door.

"Where's Ailin?" she asked, frowning.

Vesemir pointed inside the door, then hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

Nannick took a deep breath and peered through the door.

She was completely stunned when she saw what was inside.

Inside the small Wooden Hut, a green, transparent sphere floats quietly.

Ailin lay peacefully asleep inside, her eyes closed, her limbs curled up, her head drooping, like a fetus in the womb, slowly rotating with the sphere.

The rooftops, adorned with wooden amulets of various shapes—most notably the three phases of the Goddess Meritellie —swayed as if the entire Wooden Hut were a cradle for Ailin alone.

Nannick had imagined many scenes inside the Wooden Hut.

Ailin killed monsters, or severely injured them, or even rendered them unconscious.

She even imagined that when she looked into the Wooden Hut, she would meet the gaze of a pair of Evil God eyes possessing Ailin.

But what I never expected was that the source of the tyrannical divine power was such a tranquil scene.

but...

Nannick looked at the green sphere again.

Baby... cradle... flesh and blood... life...

"Nurturing..."

What is being nurtured here?

Nannick was a little uneasy; she didn't understand why Vesemir was standing calmly at the door.

Vesemir seemed to sense her thoughts and pointed to the wall beside her.

On the wooden wall, someone had carved a few words with a sword.

"I'm fine, don't be alarmed..."

The characters are messy, and the anxious emotion is clearly revealed in every stroke.

More importantly, it wasn't finished.

However, Nannick could guess that Ailin had probably heard of their arrival and, in desperation, had no choice but to carve words to remind them.

so...

"Was it really Ailin who caused this commotion?"

Nannick found it unbelievable.

Compared to a fourteen-year-old witcher wielding an aura of imposing divine power, she felt that the descent of Evil God was more logical.

"Do you really believe that Ailin did it?" Nannick couldn't help but ask.

Vesemir remained silent for a moment.

"I don't know," he shook his head, "But if you spend enough time with Ailin, you'll find that nothing is surprising about him..."

Even so?

"Even like this..." Vesemir nodded with a profound expression.

This is nothing!

If we're really talking about scale, Ben Ade hasn't even said anything yet...

To be honest, he was startled when he opened the door.

But as soon as I saw Ailin's familiar, scribbled handwriting on the wall, my heart inexplicably calmed down.

Nannick was puzzled, but seeing Vesemir's relaxed appearance, he breathed a sigh of relief.

She tentatively took two steps toward Ailin, sensing the ripples in the air.

"This is...magic?" Nannick's brows furrowed. "Green magic...I think I've heard of it somewhere before..."

"I've seen it..." Vesemir said with a complicated expression, "On a magical source..."

"The source of magic?" Nannick suddenly realized. "This is Primal Magic, the purest Primal Magic mentioned in the book, but..."

She then looked at Ailin.

Primal Magic enveloped Ailin, making her as warm and serene as the most precious jade.

Is Primal Magic really that docile?

"I remember that even the source of magic cannot fully control this power, which is even more violent and powerful than the Fire Element."

"In 1123, Hen Gedimidis last displayed his emerald magical powers, uncontrollably leveling half a city..."

"And the civil war among the warlocks in 834, the fierce battle between Pure White Pharad and other magical beings, created the present-day Pontal Valley..."

"No..." Nannick shook his head to himself, "More importantly, why would Witchers be associated with the Primal Magic unique to the Demon Source?"

Vesemir remained silent.

It wasn't that he was unwilling to answer, but rather that he didn't know either.

"Is Ailin alright?" he asked.

"At least the injury isn't visible from the outside," Nannick shook his head, "But a more accurate examination would require Divine Art, and Divine Art probably can't penetrate the barrier of Primal Magic, and might even produce adverse effects..."

"Then forget it." Vesemir shook his head repeatedly.

Silence fell over the Wooden Hut.

They were at a loss for what to do with Ailin at this moment, and it seemed they could only wait helplessly.

A green barrier, seemingly imbued with Primal Magic, enveloped Ailin as it spun around. The two could see his eyelids twitching, as if he were having a dream.

"I'll go inform the High Priest; she should have a solution..."

After a while, Nannick couldn't stand it any longer and got up to walk out the door.

Just then.

Enveloped in Primal Magic, Ailin stretched.