Time passed.
A short while later.
The figure seemed to sense something again. He abruptly raised his head and gazed into the distance.
"Another one?"
In the distance, a gigantic dark-red unidentified flying object was approaching. If it truly was a living being, then its power was undoubtedly enough to make the figure regard it with solemn attention. So he instinctively thought another high-level Innate Ancient God had arrived—a high-level Guardian.
But soon, as the gigantic dark-red object drew closer, he received astonishing, unbelievable information through his clone below.
"It's him!"
The figure abruptly froze. Even his heart, almost visible through his thin, translucent, cicada-wing-like skin, stopped for a moment. He murmured in disbelief, "How could a mere native born in this world grow so quickly? In just a little over ten years, he's reached this level?"
"Could it be..."
After his initial disbelief, a look of astonishment crossed the figure's face.
"Could it be that the sleight of hand those nobles stumbled upon back then, after thousands of years of practice and development by these natives, has evolved into the scholar profession of today? Has it finally formed a complete system—and one that seems to have more potential than the sacrificial system I created?"
It was clear from his words that he did not consider the people of this world his own kind.
And it seemed that the origins of Witcher magic had a great deal to do with him as well.
Of course, "Witcher" and "Witcher magic" were merely later terms. Just like scholarship, they were only the cradle of a professional civilization system, with no inherent superiority or inferiority. But because of conflict, and because the Aurora Holy See had taken control, Witchers, who opposed it, had naturally become evil and vile.
He took a long look