Seeking Help

Moonlight flowed like water, gently soothing the earth.

Kraun formed the Moonlight Seal with his hands and visualized Moonlight Illuminating Spirit.

When the moonlight grew brighter and a faint chill rose across his body, he changed the seal into a palm and slowly brought his practice to a close.

[Golden Light Incantation: 4672/50000; Tier 1]

At this time of year, the sun rose so late that he could spend less than an hour visualizing beneath the warm morning sun. As winter deepened, that time would grow even shorter. Now, he could only raise his Golden Light Incantation proficiency by about 80 points a day.

Knock, knock.

The knocking sounded. Kraun hurried over to open the door. "Mr. Geralt, Alan, come on in."

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

"Big brother, sorry to bother you again." Though the boy said he was imposing, he didn't look the least bit embarrassed. If anything, he seemed a little excited.

Under the pretext of getting an early start on training, the master and apprentice came by every evening to share a meal, then practiced for about another half an hour.

"Snap."

Kraun snapped his fingers and smiled. "Let's eat first."

"Sure!"

Alan cheered and followed him to the backyard to lend a hand.

Before long, the evening meal filled the table.

Braised pork knuckle, red-braised beef, lamb stewed with radish, pork belly with preserved vegetables, and hot-and-sour shredded tripe soup. There weren't many dishes, but there was plenty to go around.

Alan's mouth was stuffed full as he praised the food. "Your cooking is incredible, big brother. If you opened a tavern, business would be through the roof."

Kraun summoned the Golden Wall and glanced at his skill, feeling rather pleased with himself. I'm good at everything I do!

[Cooking: 2786/5000; Tier 3]

The group devoured the entire meal. After a short rest, Kraun and Geralt began their Swordsmanship training.

When it came to Swordsmanship, Kraun had thoroughly outclassed Alan three days earlier. Only the Witcher himself could now provide guidance and spar with him.

Kraun attacked with all his strength. He knew he couldn't hurt the Witcher, who had already reached Transcendence. If Geralt used his full strength, he could easily keep Kraun on the defensive.

Feints, thrusts, slashes, Double Cross, Reverse Cross—the various Cross Sword techniques flowed together through Basic Swordsmanship. His Swordsmanship was as swift and forceful as a torrent of mercury.

Geralt remained composed, parrying every attack. Whenever Kraun's transitions between moves were less than smooth, he struck with lightning speed.

Kraun focused all his attention on responding, pushing his potential to the limit.

Time always flew when he was completely absorbed in something. By the time Alan shouted, "That's enough training for today!" the bright moon was already high in the sky.

The two sparring partners put away their weapons and said their goodbyes.

[Basic Swordsmanship: 2895/5000; Tier 3]

[Cross Sword: 1436/2000; Tier 2]

Seeing his Swordsmanship improve steadily filled Kraun with delight.

The Witcher's Swordsmanship had been honed through countless trials, putting him under tremendous pressure. But it was precisely because of that formidable pressure that he was progressing so rapidly.

He estimated that after another half month of practice, both skills would advance to the next tier.

On the way back to the inn, the Witcher and his apprentice walked in silence. Only their soft footsteps echoed along the nighttime streets.

Alan tipped his face up and asked, "Teacher, doesn't it feel like his Swordsmanship is improving every moment?"

When the boy had told his teacher that he could no longer serve as Kraun's sparring partner, the Witcher had scolded him severely.

Geralt thought his student had grown lax lately and that his Swordsmanship had regressed. Was that why he couldn't handle a Knight's squire? No matter how the boy explained, he refused to believe him.

Geralt understood his student's thoughts, of course, and chuckled. "Yes, his progress has been constant. But he hasn't reached Transcendence, either, and he's never undergone the sort of grueling training Witcher apprentices do. I won't accept that you can do nothing but defend against him."

"Teacher, people have different talents. It's like cooking: some people are simply better at it than others. There's nothing you can do about that. But Swordsmanship isn't my talent—Signs are. I can already use some Signs before I've even truly become a Witcher. The other apprentices can't possibly match my mental strength, can they?!"

The white-haired man smiled. "That's right. Your talent lies in Signs. You've only noticed his improving Swordsmanship, though, and overlooked something else: his stamina is improving, too. It's not as obvious as his Swordsmanship, but he keeps getting better bit by bit. It's truly unbelievable, as if there's no limit to how much his physical abilities can improve."

Hearing his teacher's words, Alan recalled the details of their training that day. The two of them had taken only one brief five-minute break; the rest of the time, they'd been fighting at high intensity!

It was late at night, but 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 that day.

He had faithfully recorded what he had seen in the village, then added his own theory at the end of the letter.

"Ultio" meant "revenge" in Hermes Language. The raiders had brutally slaughtered the entire village and left taunting words behind. I believe they were remnants of Panlas, a Cult that the Church had suppressed for thousands of years.

This Cult fled into the vast Andes Mountains after our ancestors hunted them down.

The traces left behind in the village clearly bore the malicious residue of the evil spell Flesh Alchemy. It was obvious that the forbidden spell had actually succeeded.

I fear this is only the beginning. The Cultists may unleash even bloodier vengeance in the Zack Town area.

I am the only servant of the Lord stationed in this remote parish. I cannot handle this alone.

I earnestly ask Your Excellency the Bishop to send capable Exorcist Priests to conduct a thorough investigation. We must not let the Cult grow powerful, or Zack Town will face disaster.

Worse still, the safety of Rhine City may be threatened.

Father Nick Mison, Frostfall Month 21, New Calendar Year 163.

After finishing the letter, the Father removed the ring from his hand and used it to stamp his seal.

Once the ink on the page had dried, he carefully folded the letter into a cylinder and slipped it into a bamboo tube.

He opened the door and went out to the pigeon loft.

Finding the gray pigeon with red cloud-shaped markings, he tied the bamboo tube to its leg and released it.

It was a carrier pigeon specially raised by the Church, capable of flying at night.

Watching the pigeon shoot skyward like an arrow piercing the clouds and fly into the distance, the Father returned to his room with a grave expression.

Flesh Alchemy was a forbidden spell that used the spiritual organs of living creatures to create monsters. The Churches of all the great gods forbade the spread of this evil magic.

The spell had a very low success rate, but it could create powerful monsters with enormous potential for growth. If one of them grew to maturity, it would be a walking calamity.

"I hope the Bishop sends an investigative team quickly this time. Otherwise, the Zack Town area may become the Cult's first stop on its path of revenge."

Worried sick, Nick lay awake.