Seeking Aid

Moonlight, like water, gently caressed the earth.

Kraun formed the Moonlight Seal with his hands, meditating on the Moonlight Illuminating Spirit.

As the lunar radiance intensified and a faint chill began to permeate his body, he shifted his hands into palms and slowly withdrew his energy.

Golden Light Incantation: 4672/50000; Tier 1

At this time of year, because the sun rose too late in the morning, there was less than an hour available for meditation while bathing in the warm morning light. As deep winter approached, this window would shrink even further. Currently, he could only gain about 80 points of proficiency in the Golden Light Incantation per day.

Knock, knock.

At the sound of the knocking, Kraun quickly stepped forward to open the door. "Mr. Geralt, Alan, please, come in."

For the past few days, the two Witchers had arrived punctually at this time.

"Big Brother, we're here to bother you again." Despite his words, there was no sign of hesitation on the boy's face; instead, he looked quite excited.

Under the guise of training before dinner, the master and apprentice came over every night to share a meal and squeeze in about half an hour of extra practice.

Snap.

Kraun snapped his fingers and replied with a smile, "Let's eat first."

"You got it!"

Alan cheered, following behind him to help in the kitchen.

Soon, the dinner table was filled with dishes.

Braised pork knuckles, red-braised beef, lamb stewed with radishes, steamed pork with preserved vegetables, and hot and sour tripe soup—the variety wasn't vast, but the portions were large and hearty.

Alan stuffed his mouth full, complimenting him while he ate: "Big Brother's cooking is second to none. If you opened a tavern, the business would definitely be booming."

Kraun summoned the Golden Wall and glanced at his skills, feeling smug. Whatever I set my mind to, I master!

Cooking: 2786/5000; Tier 3

After the group finished off the meal like a whirlwind and rested for a moment, Kraun and Geralt began their sword training.

In terms of swordsmanship, Alan had been thoroughly crushed by Kraun three days ago, so only the Witcher himself could serve as a sparring partner and instructor.

Kraun attacked with all his might. He knew he couldn't actually hurt the Witcher, as the man had already ascended to the transcendent level; if Geralt used his true strength, he could easily suppress him.

Feints, thrusts, slashes, Double Crosses, and Reverse Crosses—various techniques of the Cross Sword were linked together through his Basic Swordsmanship. His swordplay was like mercury flowing across the ground: swift and fierce.

Geralt looked composed, parrying every attack and launching lightning-fast counter-strikes whenever his opponent's transitions lacked fluidity.

Kraun focused entirely on the defense, squeezing every ounce of potential from his body.

Time always flew when one was fully immersed. By the time Alan shouted, "That's enough training for today," the moon was already hanging high in the center of the sky.

The two combatants sheathed their weapons and bid each other farewell.

Basic Swordsmanship: 2895/5000; Tier 3
Cross Sword: 1436/2000; Tier 2

Seeing his constant progress in swordsmanship, Kraun felt a surge of joy.

The Witcher's swordplay was tempered through countless battles, placing immense pressure on him, but it was precisely this intense pressure that made his progress so rapid.

He estimated that with another half-month of practice, both skills would surely advance.

On the way back to the inn, the Witcher and his apprentice walked in silence, only the sound of their light footsteps echoing through the night streets.

Alan looked up and asked, "Teacher, doesn't his swordsmanship give you the feeling that he's improving every single moment?"

When the boy had told his teacher he could no longer handle the sparring sessions, he had been severely reprimanded.

The Witcher had believed his student was becoming lazy and that his skills had regressed, which was why he was helpless against a mere Knight Acolyte. No matter how the boy explained it, his teacher hadn't believed him.

Geralt, of course, understood his student's thoughts. He chuckled, "Yes, his progress is continuous. However, he hasn't ascended to the transcendent level, nor has he undergone the grueling training of a Witcher apprentice. I refuse to accept that you only have the strength to parry when sparring with him."

"Teacher, people have talent. Just like cooking—some people are simply better at it than others; there's no helping that. But my talent isn't in swordsmanship; it's in Signs. I haven't even officially become a Witcher yet, and I can already use several Signs. Other apprentices can't possibly reach my level of mental strength, right?!"

The white-haired man smiled. "True, your talent lies in Signs. But you only noticed his improvement in swordsmanship and overlooked one thing: his stamina is also constantly increasing. Although it's not as obvious as his sword skills, it is slowly getting better. It's truly incredible, as if there is no upper limit to his physical improvement."

Hearing his teacher's words, Alan recalled the details of their training today. They had only rested for five minutes in the middle, spending the rest of the time in high-intensity combat!

The night was deep, and the light was still on in Nick's room at the church.

He was writing a letter, a report on his investigation in Zhalu Village today.

It faithfully recorded what he had seen in the village, and at the very end of the letter, he added his own speculations.

'Ultio'—this word meant vengeance in the Hermes Language. The raiders had brutally slaughtered the entire population of the village and left behind taunting words. He believed they were the remnants of the Panlas cult, a sect that had been suppressed by the Church for thousands of years.

After being hunted down by their ancestors, this cult had fled into the vast Andes Mountains.

The traces left in the village clearly contained the malicious residue of the evil art known as Flesh Alchemy. It was obvious that this wicked ritual had succeeded.

He feared this was only the beginning, and that the cultists would unleash even bloodier vengeance in the Zack Town area.

As the only servant of the Lord stationed in this remote parish, he felt the weight of the burden was more than he could bear alone.

I humbly implore Your Excellency the Bishop to dispatch some capable Exorcist Priests to conduct a thorough investigation. We must not allow this cult to grow, lest it spell disaster for Zack Town.

Furthermore, it could even jeopardize the safety of Rhine City.

Exorcist Priest Nick Mison, 21st day of the Frostfall Month, New Calendar Year 163.

After finishing the letter, the priest removed the ring from his finger to press his seal upon the parchment.

Once the ink had dried, he carefully folded the paper into a cylinder and tucked it into a bamboo tube.

He opened his door and stepped out, making his way to the pigeon coop.

Finding the grey pigeon marked with red cloud patterns, he fastened the bamboo tube to its leg and released it.

This was a carrier pigeon specially bred by the Church, capable of flying through the night.

Watching the bird soar into the sky like an arrow piercing the clouds, the priest returned to his room with a grave expression.

Flesh Alchemy is a forbidden art that utilizes the spiritual organs of living beings to refine Demonic Beasts; every major religious order strictly prohibits the spread of such wicked sorcery.

While the success rate of this craft is remarkably low, it can produce powerful Demonic Beasts with immense growth potential. Should such a creature reach maturity, it becomes a walking calamity.

I pray the Bishop dispatches an investigation team with haste; otherwise, the Zack Town region may well be the first stop for the cult's vengeance.

Filled with anxiety, Nick found himself unable to sleep.