Contrary to the danger-filled chaos he had once imagined, what followed their last battle wasn't a series of relentless fights against constructs, cursed beings, beasts, ogres, draconic creatures, or vampires.
Instead—it was dull, monotonous travel.
There were plenty of traps, yes, but not in constant succession. Rather, there would be one pitfall trap, and then after winding through a twisting hundred-meter stretch—just when one's nerves began to relax—a wall of fire would suddenly erupt.
Yes, a hundred meters apart.
The underground complex buried beneath the arena was far larger than Allen had expected, far beyond the narrow boundaries of the coliseum above. This place couldn't possibly have been built in a short span of time.
The walls on both sides were covered with indistinct carvings, their styles unlike anything seen on the surface.
With Vilgefortz walking ahead and skillfully dismantling Sunny's traps, Allen inevitably found himself growing bored. His mind wandered toward the murals and the strange architectural details surrounding them.
"This part was already here," Vilgefortz reminded him, pausing on a step where a trap was hidden. Seeing Allen's curious expression, he explained, "Ban Ard Academy was built atop a place of power. Wherever there's a place of power, there once stood an Aen Seidhe temple."
"The ancient hill folk believed that places of power were the closest points to the gods."
"Thus, these temples weren't homes to nobles of their kind, but to their high priests—those who communed directly with their deities."
"They also believed the surface was the boundary between life and death, between mortals and gods."
"So unlike humans, elves built their temples deep underground."
"And in terms of grandeur, they could never be lesser in scale than the palaces above—even those that housed elven kings."
"For beneath the earth lay the palaces of the dead and of the mountain gods."
"Of course, this particular complex isn't especially large. Judging from its design, the carvings on this corridor's archway depict… a honey badger."
Allen blinked, somewhat dazed, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
In his past life's memory of the games, places of power weren't always underground, but grand elven tombs were found everywhere across the Continent.
Even in this world—
The Circle of Elements stood atop an elven palace, now reduced to ruins by time.
A cursed god's descent had occurred within an elven tower.
And in Toussaint, Tomas Moreau's laboratory had been built directly within an ancient elven catacomb.
Then there was Drakenborg—There too lay a convergence point, a place of power, constantly birthing new monsters. Dragon legends surrounded it as well.
When he'd rescued Bond last time, everything had gone too smoothly—he hadn't sensed any lurking danger from below.
Could there be another elven temple buried under Drakenborg as well?
Or perhaps the reason elves buried their temples wasn't merely because they believed places of power brought them closer to the gods—but because they needed the strength of those gods and priests to seal the convergence points themselves.
Allen's thoughts drifted far away, all the way to Drakenborg.
When he finally snapped back to the present, Vilgefortz had already shifted the discussion to "how to determine the age and patron deity of a temple by its ornamentation."
"You seem to know quite a lot about this," Allen interrupted.
Vilgefortz paused mid-step, then scratched his head awkwardly with a sheepish smile. "Well… my research specialty is ancient elven ruins. I may have gone off on a tangent."
"No harm done," Allen said with a small smile and a shake of his head. "I'm quite interested in elven ruins myself. The ritual related to Elder Blood and the Miracle Child—was that discovered in such a temple too?"
Vilgefortz exhaled lightly and shook his head. "Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenien—if my hypothesis is right—her grand tomb wasn't a temple, merely a burial site. It had little to do with the gods."
He paused briefly, then emphasized, "It was a rare tomb—one with no connection whatsoever to the mountain gods."
"That's unusual?" Allen asked.
"Extremely," Vilgefortz nodded, motioning for him to duck beneath a cracked stone beam before continuing, "I've studied many ancient Aen Seidhe ruins and tombs—from the northern reaches of Kovir and Poviss to the southern borders of Lower Sodden."
"I've visited nearly every excavated ruin or city built atop one. Later, Lydia and I uncovered eleven more ruins ourselves."
"In every one of them, there was always a shrine or altar to some deity. Unlike modern elves, the ancients were deeply devout."
Allen tilted his head. "So Ithlinne's disbelief—was it because of her role as a prophet?"
"There were no 'pure prophets' among the elves," Vilgefortz replied, shaking his head. "Any elf born with special gifts—especially women with prophetic visions—were all priestesses devoted to a god."
Allen nodded thoughtfully, stepping over a loose stone tile before asking curiously, "Then no one knows which god Ithlinne served?"
Vilgefortz paused, stroking his chin in thought before answering slowly, "It seems she served the Goddess of the Seasons—Maiden of Spring…"
"The Maiden of Spring, Gwyndolyn?!" Allen blurted out, unable to contain his surprise.
That name again—always that lingering shadow of the last surviving mountain goddess.
Wait—
Perhaps it wasn't coincidence. Perhaps Gwyndolyn had survived precisely because she had prepared more than the others.
And Ithlinne—
She was the one who had prophesied the coming of the Miracle Child. And now, the revived divine essence of Gwyndolyn—the Maiden of Spring—was in his hands.
Could all this truly be coincidence?
Vilgefortz, momentarily interrupted, raised an eyebrow. "Yes—Gwyndolyn, Maiden of Spring. That was indeed the deity Ithlinne worshiped."
"Most people only know Ithlinne as the Great Seer, but not which god she served. I only discovered it after studying several texts following my excavation of her tomb."
He gave Allen a faint, knowing smile.
"I never expected the Witchers of the Wolf School to take such an interest in elven history."
Allen hesitated, then answered honestly, "I only happened to hear the Maiden of Spring's name before. I just didn't expect her to be tied to Ithlinne as well…"
He paused for a moment, then looked seriously into Vilgefortz's eyes and asked,"You know any other information related to Ithlinnee?"
Vilgefortz was momentarily stunned by Allen's sudden seriousness — even a hint of earnest pleading in his tone.
He closed his half-open mouth, shut his eyes, and thought for a moment before gently shaking his head.
"Research on the ancient elven deities… the surviving materials are already very scarce. Most of what existed was destroyed in the early wars against the elves."
"This topic is also considered taboo across the Northern Continent — easily linked to blasphemy, worship of false gods, heresy, and other such charges. So, very few dare to study it…"
"However—"
Vilgefortz smiled at the visibly disappointed witcher. "However, I can try to look into it. I have a few elderly dwarf friends, and quite a few collectors who are fond of ancient elven texts."
Allen fell silent for a while, then said sincerely, "Thank you."
At that, Vilgefortz lightly shook his head. "Have you forgotten what I said before?"
"You, Allen — you are the Child of Miracles. You are the future of this world. And I wish to walk beside that future."
"So to me, there's no need to say thank you."
Vilgefortz's gaze was firm as he looked into Allen's bright blue cat-like eyes.
Allen instinctively turned his eyes away, fell silent again, not knowing what to say at a moment like this.
Fortunately,Vilgefortz didn't seem to expect a response. He gave an elegant smile, then turned back to continue leading the way deeper into the underground palace.
Darkness spread before them, like a vast, thick swamp.
Tap, tap, tap…
Only their footsteps echoed through the hollow halls of the tomb.
Dust drifted in the air.
That silence and stillness lasted a long time, until Vilgefortz suddenly stopped at the end of the corridor — before a stone gate guarded by two gargoyle statues.
The two gargoyles, baring sharp fangs and twisted faces, were just statues — not constructs.
At least, from the Witcher medallion's perception, there was no magical fluctuation.
Vilgefortz shrugged and sighed. "My previous exploration ended here. Everything beyond this point is unknown… well, except that we shouldn't be far from Hen Gedymdeith."
"Judging by the honeycomb layout of this underground palace, Sunny most likely imprisoned our target in the rear sanctum of the temple. That means… we've covered about nine-tenths of the journey."
Allen realized then — they had come to rescue Hen Gedymdeith suddenly, without giving Vilgefortz enough time to prepare.
It didn't help that for the past half hour, aside from a few expected monsters blocking the way, the path had been so smooth it almost felt like a casual stroll through the crypts.
He had nearly forgotten the danger.
Allen couldn't help but glance back — only to see darkness stretching endlessly down the corridor.
"You've already done incredibly well," he said, admiringly. "If I recall correctly, Lady Tissaia de Vries assigned you this investigation less than a month ago, right?"
"I was ready to explore most of this place on my own."
Vilgefortz chuckled, shrugging lightly. "I have to perform a little better, to prove that I'm qualified to stand beside the Child of Miracles."
"However…"
He stopped smiling, gazing into the darkness ahead as if sensing hidden beasts and danger lurking within. "The remaining distance may be short, but it'll likely take much longer to traverse — and it will be far more perilous."
"Fortunately, Sunny and Ortolan won't return so quickly from confronting the Wild Hunt…"
As he spoke, Vilgefortz cautiously stepped between the two gargoyles, just about to pass through the stone door — when he realized he couldn't hear the Witcher's footsteps behind him.
He turned back. The young Witcher stood motionless, eyes closed, in silence.
"What's wrong, Allen?" Vilgefortz asked, puzzled.
Allen blinked at him, then smiled and said half-jokingly,"You've already proven yourself worthy to stand beside the Child of Miracles. Now it's my turn to prove why I am the Child of Miracles."
As soon as he finished speaking—
Vilgefortz hadn't even reacted yet—
Allen closed his eyes once more.
Thump…
Thump…
His heart began to beat with a peculiar rhythm. It was almost the same as an ordinary heartbeat, yet when listened to closely, there was something different about it.
From within his blood, faint golden motes of light began to emerge.
At the same moment, they mingled with the crimson energy rising from his bone marrow.
"Uilas…"
The name escaped his lips like a gentle breath.
Silent and without sound, Allen's consciousness drifted outward, almost like when he used Beast Roar: Whisper of Life to sense life forces.
Only this time, the range wasn't as wide—about twenty or thirty meters in radius.
Scattered crimson lights shimmered faintly behind Vilgefortz.
Direction, elements, quantity…
Not just magical traps—Allen could perceive every hidden pitfall, spike trap, falling rock, and rolling log.
He didn't know the underlying mechanism, but the newly gained ability, Beast Roar: Trap Perception, revealed every trap without exception, as if he were drawing data directly from the fabric of reality—like tapping into the rules of the world itself.
Of course, this wasn't Allen's first time using Beast Roar: Trap Perception. He could never fully entrust his life to Vilgefortz, contract or not.
He had discreetly activated it once at the entrance of the catacombs, and after confirming that Vilgefortz's readings matched his own, he hadn't used it again.
After all, Beast Roar: Trap Perception consumed an immense amount of stamina—nearly a third of his total strength each use.
Drowner heart extract could restore stamina, but not accumulated fatigue.
And this was deep within Ban Ard's territory. Even after rescuing Hen Gedymdeith, Allen would still need to find a way to escort him out safely—possibly even restrain him if necessary.
So, he had only used Beast Roar: Trap Perception that one time.
Yet from Vilgefortz's perspective, when Allen closed his eyes and exhaled softly, his entire aura transformed.
Those azure cat-like eyes of his seemed to pierce through everything.
By the time Vilgefortz came back to his senses, the Witcher had already walked past him. With a cold glance, Allen said simply, "Follow me," before stepping through the stone gate.
Bewildered, Vilgefortz quickly followed.
Then, something even more astonishing happened.
The Witcher walked calmly through the underground halls, stopping only at certain spots—pointing to the floor or a section of wall—before continuing forward.
At first, Vilgefortz checked each time, and every single time he confirmed that Allen was right: there was a trap.
After several such instances, he no longer needed to confirm. He silently followed the Witcher, his pace quickening as they delved deeper into the catacombs.
It didn't take long before a grand yet ruined temple came into view before them.
Flickering within was a dim, azure magical glow.
A faint, oppressive aura emanated from inside—so strong that it made the entire tomb tremble. Then, just as suddenly, it vanished, leaving only stillness.
Clearly, Hen Gedymdeith was inside that temple.
Vilgefortz turned around, staring back into the endless darkness of the crypt. His heart still pounded with awe and tension as he exhaled deeply.
"Allen," he said wryly, "I'm starting to wonder—between the two of us, which one is truly the mage?"
.......
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