(TN: I've changed the name of Terry Roosevelt to Sildor Stonebelt.)
"I've already spoken with Priest Richard. I'll be leaving tonight through the teleportation array and heading for Kaer Morhen as quickly as possible. You'll have to take care of yourself here."
Gonz, the veteran Witcher, drained the last of his beer and turned to address his apprentice.
"I understand, Master," Aldric said solemnly, sitting upright as he replied. "I'll remain vigilant and continue honing my skills."
Gonz nodded, a faint glimmer of satisfaction crossing his weathered face. The young man before him was, without a doubt, one of the most gifted apprentices to appear among the Witcher Order in centuries. Each of the events surrounding this young witcher-in-training would have caused a great uproar in Kaer Morhen on its own.
But the order of Witchers was entering a turbulent era. Kaer Morhen had recently split into two sides over the controversial decision to cease recruiting new apprentices.
Most of the elder witchers and those who had grown more rational with age could accept this future calmly. After all, each time they watched hundreds of children fail the Trials, their corpses lined up and carried out under white shrouds, it gnawed away at their hearts.
Even those few who survived the transformation lost something irreplaceable.
With the world producing ever more supernaturally gifted individuals, Gonz Aragon had come to accept with quiet resignation that the age of Witchers might one day pass entirely.
But not everyone shared his acceptance.
…
Far away, deep in the Black Forest, which occupied nearly a quarter of the southern colonies stood a massive, pyramid-shaped ruin. Though ancient and half-collapsed, its foundations remained solid. The structure was an eerie blend of rotted timber and broken stone, its surface covered in slithering vines and thick moss.
Cracked walls and shattered stone competed with corroded bronze ornaments for space, while rusted iron frames and moss-covered carvings fought for dominance in their own decaying beauty.
Whatever civilization had once built this place had long since been erased by time, but now the forgotten ruin had been given a new, unholy purpose.
At its center rested an enormous egg-like organism nearly three meters tall. Its swollen, decaying form exuded an unbearable stench. Its greenish, necrotic hide was riddled with oozing sores, blistered ulcers, and writhing parasites.
The once-pulsating nutrient veins that had fed it were now clogged with dark, putrid fluid, leaking from cracks to dangle like diseased roots along its surface.
But now, all of those grotesque organs, along with the egg itself, were rapidly losing vitality. The blasphemous aura surrounding it dissipated into the void, and spiderweb cracks began to spread across its skin.
"Damn it! Those useless fools!" a furious roar echoed through the pyramid. "Why did they activate the Chaos Rift at Port Anthony ahead of schedule?!"
A man cloaked in black stood over a kneeling cultist, his voice trembling with fear as he tried to explain, "We spent two years in hiding, two whole years preparing! We finally embedded a nail within that city, and now, right before we could summon a great avatar of the Lords of Chaos—it's all been ruined!"
"Two years of corruption, wasted! The Plague Egg is failing as well! If this interferes with the Church's plan, we'll all become fertilizer in the garden!"
If Aldric had been there, he would have recognized the black-robed man's garb, it was nearly identical to that of the Vanguard of Nurgle he had once slain in the chaos rift.
"Calm yourself. That's precisely why the Church sent us to clean up the mess," came another voice, low and cold, reverberating through the ruins.
"You wretched sinners," the black-robed man spat venomously. "I still don't understand why the Church would cooperate with your kind. You'll all repent before the Merciful Father soon enough! Now tell me—what new orders has the Church given?"
A suffocating silence filled the chamber. Just as the black-robed man prepared to speak again, a flash of cold light cut through the darkness. His vision spun—the world tilting—before he saw his own body growing smaller in the distance. His head had been severed.
From the shadows stepped a figure cloaked in a dark mantle, his voice still icy and emotionless. "The first order," he said, "is for me to bring back that idiot's head."
He gestured toward the still-twitching, headless corpse. Flames erupted, engulfing it in a roaring inferno. "From now on," the man continued, "you will manage everything here. I give the orders. You obey."
Only after the cloaked assassin disappeared into the darkness carrying the screaming head in hand did the kneeling cultist dare to rise, trembling.
…
Gonz, who had lived for more than two centuries, had long since grown used to partings of all kinds. Since he had decided to leave that day, there was no room for sentimentality.
He merely reminded his apprentice in the tavern not to lower his guard or slack off in his training then waved him off impatiently, telling him not to delay his drinking any longer.
Though the farewell was brief, Aldric understood his mentor's temperament well after all they had been through. After sharing one last mug of ale, he left the tavern without looking back.
He didn't know exactly what crisis awaited his teacher back at headquarters, but the urgency with which Gonz departed and his willingness to use the Church's teleportation array meant it had to be a matter of life and death.
From what Aldric had learned, such long-distance teleportation required enormous cost, enough to make even a wealthy lord wince. It also demanded at least four casters to prepare for three days in advance. Only the great Churches possessed such arrays, kept hidden for emergencies.
Although Aldric knew that the path of a Witcher was one filled with peril, he trusted his mentor's skill and resilience. Between a battle-hardened veteran and a disciple raised for combat since childhood, there was no need for excessive words just mutual understanding.
Upon returning to the Thunderhammer Forge where he was lodging, Aldric could no longer stand the dwarves' teasing looks. He gave a few quick greetings to his followers and retreated straight to his room.
Speaking of followers, Sildor had changed remarkably in recent days. The young man had found an elderly former butler who once served a noble family and was now studying under him. Under the old man's tutelage, Sildor was learning etiquette, literacy, mathematics, accounting, and every subject he could grasp.
He only returned at dinnertime, joining the dwarven apprentices in the forge to study blacksmithing. Once he had found his purpose, Sildor's passion for learning burned bright, so much that even Aldric found it admirable.
His follower's status window proved as much, with experience points rising rapidly. Aldric even suspected that, given enough time, Sildor might eventually awaken new talents through study alone.
Name: Sildor Stonebelt (Age: 16)
Race: Human – Visigoth Branch (Racial Trait: When HP falls below 10%, Defense doubles)
Level: 5
Status: Healthy
Class: Sailor Lv.5 (24215 / 25000 EXP) (This must be definitely incorrect.)
Attributes:
Strength: 5+(With proper nutrition, rest, and training, this 16-year-old's potential is limitless. (Recent changes detected.)
Dexterity: 6
Constitution: 7(Years of seafaring have strengthened the young sailor's body: +1 Constitution)
Intelligence: 9(Received good education in childhood: +1 Intelligence)
Perception: 7(Constant vigilance on the open sea sharpened his senses: +1 Perception)
Charisma: 5+ (Learning noble etiquette; while demeanor cannot change one's face, it can certainly change how others perceive you. (Recent changes detected.))
Aside from nearing a level-up, two of his attributes were on the verge of improving. This was the natural advantage NPCs had over players: though they lacked the templates of transcendent beings, their stats could evolve organically with age and experience.
His innate talents remained the same, but his fundamental skills had advanced significantly. In the "Knowledge" section, Aldric even noticed new subcategories like Knowledge (Nobility) and Knowledge (Religion).
Sildor's steady progress brought him great satisfaction—but the other matter in his room, the half-dead assassin lying on the table, was turning into a much bigger problem.
(End of Chapter)
TN: The reason I'm changing the name is to make it more medieval sounding. Do you guys I should change the name of Gonz too?