A Fork in Fate

Inside the ring of trees.

The Witch let out a faint sigh, sounding somewhat powerless as she said softly, "I may not be a match for the Witch Hunters either."

"They know us very well."

"They know everything about us. They know our weaknesses."

The Forest Banshee raised her head, her voice sorrowful. "My lady is so powerful. Dealing with that Witch Hunter would not be difficult."

"Are you truly going to stand by and watch us perish here?"

The Witch showed a trace of reluctance and sighed softly. "Even if I kill that Witch Hunter, what then?"

"New missionaries will come. More Witch Hunters will come here."

After speaking, the Witch turned her beautiful, sorrowful face toward the church. Gazing at the cross in the darkness, she murmured, "Our era is over..."

Even this powerful Witch felt deeply helpless in the face of such drastic changes to the times.

It was a mountain.

A mountain so crushing that every wielder of supernatural power could barely breathe beneath it.

Hearing the Witch's words, the Forest Banshee also showed a trace of despair. Like a withering flower, she rose dejectedly, bowed, and took her leave, as though preparing to accept her fate of death.

"Wait."

The Witch suddenly called out to the Forest Banshee, who was about to vanish beneath the oak tree's shadow. Her expression hesitant, she thought for a moment before saying, "I am following the clues of a prophecy."

"If I succeed."

"I can take you away from here, to settle in a peaceful land far from the continent."

The Forest Banshee's face was filled with grief as she murmured, "The gods have been abandoned."

"What use is prophecy?"

The Witch was momentarily speechless. The future she had foreseen was one of endless fire, of countless kindred shrieking miserably within the flames. Burning crosses represented the merciless Judgment awaiting them.

Heretic!

It was a miserable fate lasting nearly a thousand years. It was the Middle Ages known as the "Dark Ages."

The darkness had arrived.

The Middle Ages were about to begin!

She had to seize the final glimmer of light in fate, because it represented their last remaining hope.

The Witch's expression turned solemn. "The prophecy tells me that The Church will begin a Judgment of 'Heretics' that will last nearly a thousand years. The dark Middle Ages are about to arrive."

"The Child of Destiny who can change everything has also descended."

"He may influence the future of the world. One path of fate has shown us the way forward through him."

"Beyond the distant sea lies a cold land."

"There, we can leave the mundane world behind, avoid conflict, and quietly wait for the light of enlightenment from a new era a thousand years from now."

The Forest Banshee stopped in astonishment, her expression doubtful.

The Witch said calmly, "I can place a barrier around your dwelling. It may be enough to deceive that Witch Hunter."

The Forest Banshee showed a trace of joy and was just about to offer thanks when she suddenly let out a piercing shriek.

"Witch Hunter!"

At the edge of the moonlit ring of trees, a figure in a gray hooded cloak slowly emerged from the darkness. His chainmail reflected faintly in the moonlight. He wore gray bracers and black mittens, one hand gripping the hilt of the sword on his back. His cold eyes seemed utterly emotionless, their amber pupils vertical like those of a dragon.

The atmosphere seemed to freeze at once.

The Witch's expression became exceedingly grave. This Witcher apparently posed a great threat to her, while the Forest Banshee looked terrified. Over nearly a century, who knew how many of her kind had died by the Witch Hunters' hands?

A faint rustle came from the forest.

There was someone else?

The Witch and the Witcher both looked startled. Under the moonlight, a handsome, gaunt profile emerged from the darkness. A tall, straight figure stepped out of the woods, the Northern War Bow drawn to a full moon, its cold arrow aimed at the Witcher ahead.

Duncan emerged expressionlessly from the darkness. He did not approach the Witch nearby, instead standing still with his back to her as he watched the Witcher with an icy gaze.

"It's you!" The Witch's face brightened with surprise, and she seemed somewhat relieved.

The three figures faced one another in a triangular standoff. The Witcher's expression also grew extremely grave. He had thought he was tracking the Witch, but after following for so long, he had found someone else.

Child of Destiny?

Was that me?

A cold land beyond the distant sea?

It probably was not Britain Island.

Iceland?

Iceland seemed to have settlers only around the ninth century. If it was across the sea, then it should be Iceland.

Were prophetic spells in this world really that powerful?

The Witcher glanced at the Witch, then at Duncan, completely ignoring the Forest Banshee trembling in the shadows, as though he did not care about her strength at all. He slowly spoke in a hoarse voice. "Raven Queen—Triss."

The Witch stared into his vertical, dragon-like eyes and said softly, "Dragon Slayer—Saint George."

Wait?!

Saint George the Dragon Slayer?

Duncan's expression became exceedingly grave. He had not expected that the Witcher would be a Legendary figure.

No.

It was probably around 450 AD now. Many Legendary figures had likely not even been born yet. If the time were pushed back a little further, it would be an era filled with mythological figures everywhere. After all, it had somewhat been an age when humans and gods lived together.

If time had been brought forward by around five hundred years, perhaps he might even have encountered Jesus walking the world.

From beneath the shadows, the Witcher said calmly, "My name is George Paul now."

"A wandering Witcher."

The Witch, Raven Queen Triss, looked rather puzzled. She said softly, "I am Triss Hatherwy now, a reclusive Forest Witch."

Duncan chose that moment to interject awkwardly. "Duncan, a farmer from Bran Village on the Empire's border."

"No surname."

At a moment that might be recorded in historical Legend, he had to force his way in and leave his mark somehow.

He just had to say it.

Duncan's sudden interruption left both of them silent for a moment.

In the end, the Witcher was the first to remove his hand from the sword hilt. He stared at the Witch opposite him and said calmly, "I no longer serve the Inquisition."

"Some Witch Hunters have broken away from the Inquisition."

"We are free Witchers who serve the Lord, cleansing humanity of the threats posed by monsters."

This Witcher held an extremely high position within The Church. He possessed the authority to pass Judgment upon other Archbishops in the name of faith.

Under God's Eye View.

The Witcher's mark returned to neutral yellow. His mark had never been the obvious hostile red.

From what he meant, the Witchers he spoke of were different from The Church's Witch Hunters. They did not belong to the Inquisition and did not intend to meddle in disputes involving Heretics. They were more dedicated to eliminating monsters that threatened ordinary people. They were likely the strange creatures that had survived from the ancient Mythological Era to the present. After all, this man might be the only Dragon Slayer in the world today.

The Witch's expression was doubtful.

The Witcher did not care. His eyes swept over the Forest Banshee trembling beneath the trees before he turned and left the forest.

He had sought out Raven Queen Triss only to make his position clear.

From this day onward, he and his followers would have nothing to do with the Inquisition. They would remain independent of The Church and focus on dealing with evil creatures that truly threatened mortals.

The Witcher Brotherhood.

Ever since the Edict of Milan had been issued, The Church was no longer the church he had once known.

Power.

The Church's power was expanding rapidly. They had even proposed the idea of the Papal States.

Duncan watched the Witcher leave.

The Witch beside him made no move, and he lowered the Northern War Bow in his hand as well. That departing figure was a true Witcher, after all. Named after a saint, he had made his name by slaying a dragon. Perhaps he would become the founding master of this world's Witchers in the future.

A gentle breeze passed by.

The Forest Banshee had already slipped away. Raven Queen Triss looked at Duncan and asked softly, "You already knew?"

Duncan nodded slightly. "Mm."

Raven Queen Triss looked somewhat puzzled. "Since when?"

Duncan thought for a moment. "When I fought the Barbarian deserters, I could sense an arrow flying toward me, but it suddenly veered away."

"Later, when I fought the Rangers, I became completely certain."

Raven Queen Triss showed an expression of understanding. "Your spirituality is very strong. You possess a warrior's instincts."

Duncan returned the arrow to his quiver and said calmly, "You suddenly asked me about Bran Village on the road."

"That made me think of stories the village elders told me when I was young. They said that beyond the mountains, deep in the densest forest, there was a treehouse inhabited by a fairy of the woods. She had once treated an injured, lost hunter and sent him out of that primeval forest."

The Witch's eyes flickered faintly. She stared at Duncan and slowly asked, "You helped me because of that?"

Duncan nodded.

The two of them walked toward the edge of the forest. The Witch put her veil back on and suddenly asked, "How much did you hear?"

Under God's Eye View.

The target was still marked blue. Duncan said calmly, "More or less all of it."

The Witch fell silent. After a moment, she said, "Do not tell anyone else."

Duncan nodded.

As they emerged from the forest, Raven Queen Triss watched Duncan's back. This man's five senses were exceptionally sharp, far beyond those of ordinary people. His combat skills also improved incredibly quickly. After just one battle, he had become proficient at riding and mounted archery. Even she was amazed by such talent, and she could not help thinking of the human heroes of the Mythological Era.

Raven Queen Triss seemed somewhat hesitant, but she finally asked, "What are you planning to do next?"

Duncan stood at the inn entrance and thought for a moment. "I don't know."

"I'll take things one step at a time."

"In these times, I should first find a place to establish myself."

The Witch looked tempted. She said softly, "Would you like to go to Britannia with me first?"

Duncan seemed to consider it.

He asked in a low voice, "What would I do on Britain Island?"

Raven Queen Triss replied slowly, "Visit another Wizard."

Hm?

Another Wizard? Britain Island?

Duncan seemed to think of something and asked, "Who?"

Raven Queen Triss looked deeply respectful. "Merlin. One of the most powerful Wizards alive!"

Merlin?!

I really had arrived in an era near the end of mythology.

What about King Arthur?

He seemed to be a figure from around 500 AD. After the Roman Empire collapsed, the Barbarian crisis spread into England. During that time, one branch of the Germanic People, the Saxons, invaded on a massive scale. They formed the main population of modern Britain.

King Arthur was a Celt. The peoples he represented were the Irish, Scots, and Welsh. In ancient British mythology, King Arthur repeatedly repelled Saxon invasions with Merlin's help.

But in the end, the Saxons still conquered and ruled Britain Island.

King Arthur might not have been born yet, but Merlin should already be active and renowned throughout the world of supernatural powers.

According to Legend.

Merlin was a Cambion, born from the union of an Incubus and a mortal woman. His demonic bloodline gave Merlin supernatural power and wisdom beyond that of mortals. [Note: The Succubus is a well-known Nightmare Banshee who seduces men and bends them to her will. The male equivalent is the Incubus, a demon that preys on women and longs to breed Cambions.]

Seeing that Duncan was interested, Raven Queen Triss immediately said, "I can give you a large sum of money."

Duncan looked hesitant. "I'll think about it."

Raven Queen Triss did not force the matter. In order to follow the path of fate revealed in the prophecy, she had resolved to travel across the continent in search of the Child of Destiny, hoping to prevent her kind from suffering their miserable fate for nearly a thousand years.

For that great ideal, she was willing to pay any price, even if it meant sacrificing herself.

She needed to find the peaceful land that could shelter Witches and other innocent possessors of supernatural power during the future Dark Ages. Only then could their inheritance see the faint light of the Age of Enlightenment a thousand years later.

A Witch was ultimately still flesh and blood.

Although Raven Queen Triss was extremely powerful, it was still inconvenient for her to travel the continent alone. Duncan's strength was obvious to all. Many problems were easier to solve with a blade than with Sorcery.

The night passed without incident.

The next morning, before Duncan had decided how to answer the Witch, someone knocked on his door.

Outside stood the injured captain of the guards, supported by another man.

The guard captain was named Catus. He was actually part of a private armed force maintained by an Empire noble, operating under the guise of caravan guards while also protecting his employer's commercial interests.

Catus looked pale. With the other man's support, he sat down and looked earnestly at Duncan. "Lord Duncan."

"May I ask what you plan to do next?"

Duncan's expression was slightly strange as he replied softly, "I haven't decided yet."

Catus glanced at him and pressed his advantage. "The Empire has grown increasingly unstable in recent years. Barbarians invade frequently, and the situation in Asia is also precarious."

"Factional conflicts within the Empire never cease, while the Barbarians are becoming increasingly powerful in the army!"

"Has Lord Duncan considered making a name for yourself in these troubled times?"

The moment the man spoke, Duncan knew what he wanted.

He just did not know which great noble Catus served. Was it one of the Empire's old noble houses, or one of the newly risen Barbarian magnates? The Civilized Barbarians assimilated by the Empire now also regarded other tribal peoples as Barbarians. Some of the Barbarian tribes conquered and assimilated early in the Empire's history even looked down on the Barbarians accepted by Constantine I.

The Barbarian hierarchy of contempt kept stacking upon itself.

That was no joke at all.

The true orthodoxy of the Empire was really in the hands of the Barbarians.

If Duncan had been a Roman Empire fanatic in his previous life, he might have agreed. But right now, he had never considered standing with the Empire. Along the way, he had not seen the Empire do many decent things.

The Empire was collapsing.

With his abilities, trying to forcefully turn the tide would probably be hopeless. Still, the title of Augustus, Emperor of the Empire, was undeniably tempting.

It was like how Easterners found it hard to understand the allure of the One Ring. But if the words "Mandated by Heaven, May He Live Long and Prosper" were inscribed upon the One Ring, they would understand instantly.

Duncan pondered for a moment. "I'll consider it."

Traveling with Raven Queen Triss would undoubtedly bring him into contact with this world's supernatural realm. Choosing the mercenary Catus, on the other hand, meant taking the mortal path of achievement and ambition. Most of his future efforts would likely go toward preparing for the coming chaotic age. After all, the fall of the Empire marked the official beginning of the Middle Ages.

Immortality, Magic, a beautiful Witch? Or the name Augustus?

The Age of Mortals had begun.

The last myth was about to draw to a close as well. Supernatural powers were destined to hide in the darkness.

Duncan saw the other party off.

He fell into deep thought, but found no answer for a long while. Then inspiration struck, and he decided to enter meditation and see the Law of Causality settlement from God's Eye View.

By now, he should have reached some turning point in fate. The Law of Causality within the Dimensional Space was bound to change.