A Monster Who Held Life and Death in His Hands

The burning red dress disappeared into the darkness around the corner of the castle.

Not long after, a flash of orange-red light appeared on the terrace of the third floor of the north tower.

Who knows when I'll meet that once willful Elf Princess again?

"No wonder the dinner was so lavish and there were white candles lit; it was a farewell banquet."

The atmosphere created by Francesca Fantaby left Ailin with a lingering sense of reluctance.

But that's how farewells are in the world of Witcher.

He remembered that in the original story, Geralt of White Wolf accepted a commission at Cape Brimwood to intervene in the love affair between the Duke and the mermaid Sianna.

The commission failed due to the selfishness of both parties, but White Wolf met a female bard nicknamed "Little Eye" at the banquet.

She was beautiful, with thick, dark blonde hair, eyes that shone like stars, and a voice more beautiful and melodious than a nightingale's.

She shielded Geralt from the Duke's harsh demands, helped him complete his request using the difficult ancient language, and finally healed his wounds, bandaged him, and defied the Duke...

Geralt accepted the "Little Eye" man's advances without hesitation.

They had a wonderful adventure, but after parting ways, they never met again.

Because "Little Eye" died four years later in the smallpox outbreak that ravaged Vizima.

That farewell was forever.

"Don't think like that..."

Ailin looked up at the lonely moon hanging in the sky, shaking off the ominous thoughts from her mind.

"Enid is not a fragile human bard; she is Ion Siddi, Mountain Folk, an Elf Princess with exceptional magical talent, and will later become an elven Grand Duchess and Queen."

"We'll see each other again soon..."

He tried to convince himself that the Elf Queen, who would live into the future and thrive until the end of the story, would not die a hasty death under the hooves of a warhorse like a farmer in some village in Kedwen.

But the bad news from the elven camp still made him feel inexplicably uneasy.

But he had already given the warnings he needed to give, and could only hope that the leaders of the Free Elves Himles Fendabé and Sadia, would be more vigilant because of his words.

Hopefully, this unease is just his imagination.

but...

Will everything really develop as he wishes?

Nobody knows.

——

It's late at night, Ernie and Klar must have been asleep long ago. We'll have to ask them about the reason for the sudden increase in loyalty tomorrow.

Ailin did not return immediately, but wandered somewhat restlessly along the main road in the quiet night, past the training grounds, the large dormitory for the Witcher apprentices, and the city gates.

He was planning how to get along with Vesemir and Soyer tomorrow.

The plan is to find Fred in the morning, teach him "Warcry: Primal Tongue" to activate the talent he inherited from the Leshen, and also find out the reason for his sudden increase in loyalty. Then, select fifteen new members from the Monster Hunting Legion to make a new training plan...

The plan is to find Mary and Yennefer at noon to see how much the future top Sorceress's strength has improved.

The plan is to find an opportunity this afternoon to avoid Philba Ehrert, to find an uninhabited cave, or Old Spearhead's cave, to use up this month's Conjunction of the Spheres, kill the invading large monster, and continue to push my attributes to the limit...

Then go to the Rock Troll camp below the Circle of Elements to see how the Mountain Stone and the Big Stone family are getting along, and whether the Metal Troll have integrated into the group...

Before long, the schedule for tomorrow was packed full, fulfilling and efficient.

But as I continued planning, my inner restlessness grew even more intense, like a volcano accumulating energy, always just a hair's breadth away from erupting.

The slightly chilly and damp mountain wind was a bit biting.

Kaer Morhen had never felt so confined.

The towering city walls on both sides cast dark shadows, making one feel so oppressed and cramped.

It is not only inferior to Arland, but also to the Temple of Melitele on Mount Mahakam.

Although, this is to be expected.

One lap, two laps, three laps...

Ailin paced around Kaer Morhen several times in frustration, but ultimately failed to find any relief and returned to the tower on the south side of the castle.

He suddenly wanted to talk to someone.

However, it was already late at night, and the Alchemy Room on the second floor was pitch black; Mary must have already gone to bed.

Moreover, considering the situation at noon, it didn't seem appropriate to wake her up at this time.

Thinking of Soyer, Vesemir, and Enid, it seemed that there was nothing Mary could tell, or anyone else.

After thinking for a moment, Ailin sighed softly, went straight up to the third floor, and returned to her residence.

"Squeak~"

Open the door.

The sweet fragrance of roses and bay leaves wafts through the air.

Under the flickering candlelight, the room was filled with mist and steam.

Are you really planning to stay here indefinitely?

Ailin closed the door, speechless as he looked at Philippa Ehrert, who was naked in the bathtub with her eyes closed and head tilted back, thoroughly enjoying herself.

She really wasn't polite at all.

"Of course," Philippa Ehrert opened her eyes and said lazily, "It's rare for the Dean to assign me a task."

"Breaking into Ben Ade and rescuing Henry Gedimidis requires us to have an extraordinary teamwork."

"And tacit understanding needs to be cultivated, so of course we should be together day and night, every minute and every second."

Ailin rolled her eyes. "Don't talk so ambiguously, as if we have some kind of relationship."

"We're just temporary partners."

"I don't think this is how Ms. Tissaia de Veres cultivates rapport."

"Besides, I'm a normal man too. Can't we avoid talking about certain things?"

"Splash!"

A sound of water.

Philippa Ehrert raised her slender, fair arm, slowly turned around, and placed it flat on the edge of the wooden tub, with clear water flowing down her smooth skin.

The smooth, white body was partially hidden beneath the water's surface.

Her delicate, rosy face, flushed from the steam, tilted her head and rested it on the back of her hand, exuding an irresistible charm.

"What's there to be afraid of?" Philippa Ahart retorted defiantly. "You're just a kid who doesn't even know anything about love and romance, what do I have to be afraid of?"

"Are you scared?"

Normally, Ailin would raise an eyebrow, take off his clothes without saying a word, and show her what a man and a boy are.

However, at this moment, he showed little interest in responding to Philippa Ehrhardt's provocation.

"What ever."

Feeling somewhat irritable and not wanting to cause any more trouble, Ailin didn't even get into bed or take off her leather armor. Instead, she found a corner and sat cross-legged to meditate.

This gesture, however, caused Philippa Ehrhardt to furrow her thick, imposing eyebrows.

She hadn't planned to do anything.

Ailin was certainly good-looking, with a pair of blue eyes like a feline, full of exotic charm, which would be very attractive to any Sorceress.

But she was never a casual person.

Having been deprived of affection for a long time, she can find solace in any decent-looking man.

Perhaps there are many other Sorceress like her, but it could never be her.

Philippa Ehrert preferred a man who was strong enough to be her soulmate, and who, in terms of power, wealth, and influence, was at the top of the world.

Yes, women are fine too.

Ailin may have the potential in the future, but he is still too young and not old enough.

Moreover, the ceiling for power, wealth, and influence for witchers has always been too low.

The top is nothing more than a grandmaster of a witcher school, a guest of honor of kings.

But what does that count for?

There are plenty of people who can become guests of honor with the kings; even a bard who can't even kill a chicken can sit in that seat by singing a couple of popular songs.

But to say that she didn't do it on purpose wouldn't be right either.

After her plan to use her transformation ability to intimidate him failed yesterday, Philippa Ehrhardt acknowledged his strength and vision, but did not give up her pursuit of dominance.

Rescuing Henry Gedimidis is no small matter, and for several reasons, it cannot be refused.

But the best position is to have your own life in your own hands.

Moreover...

This little witcher is really insulting!

That's what happened yesterday, and I'm ignoring her again today.

As she thought about it, Philippa Ehrert suddenly felt her blood rush to her head and her anger surge.

No Sorceress is indifferent to her appearance, and to ignore it is the greatest provocation.

"Splash!"

She stood up from the wooden tub, the steaming hot water flowing down her graceful and imposing body and splashing onto the surface.

A gentle breeze calmed Philippa Ehrert, who had stepped out of the barrel, from her rage and embarrassment.

Ailin did nothing, he just ignored it, so what could he use as a raft?

She glanced at Ailin, who was sitting cross-legged with her eyes closed, thought for a moment, chanted a few incantations, raised her hand to summon a bathrobe, and draped it over her body to cover her graceful figure.

The Witcher remained unmoved and continued meditating even as the School Emblem trembled. Philippa Ehrhardt raised an eyebrow and made a gesture with her right hand, flicking it slightly.

A black scorpion, gleaming with metallic luster, silently emerged from beneath the bathrobe, lay sprawled on the soft, dark red carpet, and crawled aimlessly toward Ailin.

Philippa Ehrert was completely focused, and even made some movements to create a false impression.

The scorpion slowly approached.

... Four meters, three meters, two meters, one meter...

Philippa Ehrert grew increasingly nervous, her heart pounding faster and faster.

Just as the scorpion's forelegs quietly crawled onto the Witcher's boots, Philippa Ehrhardt quickly averted her gaze to avoid alerting the Witcher's keen senses.

"Just like that, go in a little further, a little more..."

Philippa Ahart nervously muttered to herself as she secretly estimated the distance.

As a gentle breeze swept across her damp hair, she glanced at it out of the corner of her eye.

Just then.

Philippa Ehrert was horrified to discover...

The Witcher, who had been sitting cross-legged in the corner, vanished!

"Um?!!"

Philippa Ehrert paused for a moment, then felt a chill run down her chin.

A chill instantly seeped from my tailbone to my scalp.

Her body froze instantly. Looking down, she saw a small, silvery-white sword tip protruding from the side of her neck, gleaming coldly.

She turned her head very subtly, and in an instant, her gaze met that of a pair of cold, icy blue beast eyes.

In an instant, the chill in my heart intensified.

It was as if Death itself had reached out its bony fingers and was toying with her heart.

The simple silk bathrobe she had simply draped over her shoulders suddenly slipped off her shoulders and fell onto the wet ground as she moved stiffly.

Meritellie is on top!

What eyes they were!

Even ice is insufficient to describe the chill; being gazed upon by those eyes, Philippa Ehrhardt felt as if she were witnessing death itself.

Those eyes, cold as knives, moved from her face and glanced at her lower body, as if slashing her with a knife.

You can't see any human emotions at all.

"You can stay here, but don't do these pointless little things," he said coldly. "I'm in a bad mood right now, and a wise person wouldn't provoke me at a time like this."

"Philippa Ehrert..."

"I'm asking you..."

Are you a wise person?

The threat of death made Philippa Ahart tremble instinctively.

She rationally knew that Ailin would not kill her and offend Aretuza after offending Ben Ade and the Rissberg Civil Conglomerate, simply because she was in a bad mood.

But looking into those cold eyes, she became uncertain again.

Every organ, tissue, and cell in the body is warning, screaming, "I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

"I... I... I am..."

Philippa Ehrert practically squeezed those two words out of her throat.

"Very good," the Witcher sheathed his sword. "I hope you are too."

Even though he had sheathed his sword, for some reason, Philippa Ehrert still dared not move under the icy blue Cat Eyes.

until...

He glanced at Philippa Ehrert one last time, then walked past her without a second thought, slowly returning to the corner where he closed his eyes and sat cross-legged in meditation.

She seemed to have regained control of her body.

What is that...?

Philippa Ehrert stared in horror at the fourteen-year-old child with his eyes closed not far away, as if she were seeing a monster.

A monster who possesses the ultimate power to control the life and death of others.

She took thirteen deep breaths before she could barely regain her composure, her legs went weak, and Philippa Ehrhardt suddenly felt something, her cheeks flushing red.

She lost all her languor and leisure and hurriedly went back to the bathtub.

Only when her entire graceful body was submerged in the warm water did she barely regain some confidence.

Staring at the witcher in the corner, after a long while, she pieced together her fragmented stubbornness, bit her lower lip, mustered her courage, and asked:

Why are you in a bad mood?

"Tell me, and maybe I can find a way to help you solve this..."

After a long silence that made Philippa Ehrhardt wonder if the Witcher opposite her had fallen asleep.

"You can't solve it, and nobody can..."

The Witcher's soft sigh echoed in the empty room.

"How do you know it can't be solved if you don't tell me?" Philippa Ehrhardt's eyes lit up as she pressed for an answer.

But this time...

After a long silence, there was still silence.

A silence deeper and more desolate than the night outside the terrace.