Grasses Potion

When the food on the table had been swept clean, Kraun finally felt the hunger that had risen from the depths of his soul begin to fade.

"After becoming a Transcendentalist, your very level of life is elevated. We're stronger than ordinary people in every way. The most obvious difference is how much we eat," Nick said with a broad smile.

"Father, I've noticed you don't eat that much."

He found it hard to believe. The two of them had eaten together plenty of times, and in his impression, Father ate about as much as the quarry workers who did heavy labor. There was no obvious difference.

"There are many ways to replenish energy. Eating is only one of them. Exorcist Priests use different means of attack from you. We primarily rely on spiritual power, and replenishing spiritual essence is an important way for us to obtain energy. Priests, Warlocks, and Spirit Controllers all replenish their energy this way. It both restores energy and lets us train and improve ourselves—a two-for-one deal."

At that moment, the shallowness of Kraun's knowledge of the supernatural was laid bare.

As someone who also possessed the abilities of a Spirit Controller, he still didn't know how to improve those abilities.

Now that he had become an insider in the church, he planned to keep his Spirit Controller abilities hidden as a trump card.

"What is spiritual essence? And what kind of supernatural professions are Spirit Controllers and Warlocks?"

Asking when he didn't understand was a good habit. He never pretended to know something he didn't.

"Father Hamfa brought a batch of basic reference books. You can study them yourself when the time comes." Nick stood up. "That's enough training for today. Spend tonight getting used to your current physical condition. Tomorrow, two veteran Crusader soldiers will coach you. Take it seriously. They won't be here for long, so how much you learn is up to you."

The priest patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "I have a lot of confidence in you."

"Doesn't the church have a training program for newcomers?"

Hearing that he would have to teach himself again, Kraun felt a little frustrated.

A systematic training program helped people develop more fully and avoid obvious weaknesses. When he was an outsider, there had been no way to ask for anything. Now that he was a full-fledged member, surely he could at least fight for the rights he was entitled to.

"Of course we have a training program for newcomers. But these are special circumstances, so all that training has been suspended. From now on, newcomers will have to learn and improve through actual combat."

Nick turned and left, leaving the young man behind to ponder the deeper meaning of his words.

Kraun understood. Something else had happened that he didn't know about.

There were two main differences between the upper echelons and ordinary people: first, unequal access to information; second, control over the distribution of resources.

Those in higher circles had more and wider channels for information, allowing them to learn about changes as soon as they happened.

And with control over resource allocation as well, people like them would always hold on to the right to speak.

He shook his head and stopped thinking about it, then left the church.

When you lacked the ability to do anything about it, knowing too much only brought extra worry. Handle what you're capable of handling—that was the hard-earned lesson he had learned over two lifetimes.

As he walked, Kraun summoned the Golden Wall to check how much his proficiency had increased after the afternoon's battle.

Being able to see his own progress at any time was a kind of happiness, and it gave him extra motivation.

[Basic Swordsmanship: 4687/5000; Tier 3]

[Cross Sword: 1832/2000; Tier 2]

Perhaps brutal combat could stir a person's fighting spirit and resilience. His swordsmanship had improved far more than he had expected.

Passersby saw him covered in blood and instinctively kept their distance.

Kraun didn't mind. His injuries looked frightening, but they were no longer serious.

He hadn't applied any medicine, but all his wounds had scabbed over and closed, including the deepest one.

When he got home, he brought in the Talisman Paper he had left drying outside, then quickly lit a fire and started cooking.

He timed it carefully, and as soon as the You Hour began, he sat cross-legged beneath the moonlight and started practicing the Golden Light Incantation.

His progress with the Golden Light Incantation was slow now, so he had to make the most of the favorable time.

Grains of sand built a tower; trickles of water formed an abyss. Every small accumulation was for the day when the flowers would bloom and bear fruit.

For others, the road ahead lay hidden in a fog of uncertainty. Their efforts might not bring any reward.

For him, no step was ever wasted. Every step counted.

As soon as the You Hour had passed, a knock came from outside.

He didn't need to guess. The two Witchers had arrived as promised.

He opened the door. "Please, come in."

"You seem a little different," the Witcher said, his deep eyes flashing with a glint of light.

What sharp instincts. Klaan's lips curled up. "I was lucky enough to advance and become a Transcendentalist. Tomorrow, I'll be able to learn the Breathing Technique."

His tone was calm, but he couldn't hide his pride.

"Congratulations!"

Geralt marveled inwardly. When they had first met, he had only sensed that the other man was a sunny young fellow with a good heart. He hadn't expected that in just one month, he would already have advanced to become a Transcendentalist.

"Congratulations, big brother! When will I get to undergo the Trial of the Grasses?"

Alan was very envious. Since he still couldn't find an Alchemist to help prepare the potion, he had yet to take the crucial step toward becoming a true Witcher.

The white-haired Witcher heard his student's words, and a complicated look flashed through his eyes.

He sighed slowly and asked, "Kraun, how many kinds of supernatural potions can you make now, and what's your success rate?"

"At the moment, I only know how to make one supernatural potion: the Blood-Boiling Potion. My success rate is around sixty percent."

He had run out of ingredients, so it had been a long time since he'd prepared any potions.

"If I gave you a new formula, would you be confident you could succeed at least once in two tries?"

As soon as Geralt finished speaking, he shook his head and gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm getting ahead of myself. No potion-maker can do that."

You're muttering to yourself here. At least give me a chance to prove myself.

Kraun smiled. He understood: the Witcher wanted to prepare a potion, but didn't have many ingredients, and they probably weren't easy to buy. So he wanted to find a capable Alchemist to make it, preferably successfully on the first try.

"Tell me what potion it is. I may not be confident right now, but I might be before long."

"The Grasses Potion, also called the Weed Potion. It's a potion used exclusively by Witchers. Apprentices use it to break through and become true Witchers."

The Witcher glanced fondly at his student and said softly, "Alan needs it, but we only have enough ingredients for two doses. For certain reasons, I left the Witchers' stronghold and have to find an Alchemist myself. Since only Witchers use this potion, we usually replenish our supply of the Grasses Potion at Kaer Morhen. Very few Alchemists outside of there study a potion that brings them no profit."

Kraun understood. He tilted his head and thought for a moment. "If Mr. Geralt could give me the formulas for a few supernatural potions whose ingredients are relatively easy to buy, so I could practice, I think I'd be confident about making the Grasses Potion."