After experiencing the dream, Victor cremated Serrit.
That evening, the witcher left the ravine and entered the spectral mist, setting out south toward Vergen.
He had lost two friends within a very short time. Although he did not believe Dandelion was stupid enough to remain with Miruna until the succubus fucked him to death, he still wanted to check the ruined village first.
After that, he needed to cure Saskia of the potent poison known as Thaumador, or magepain. As the spiritual pillar of Vergen's rebels, the Saint could not recover soon enough.
Victor mentally reviewed the ingredients needed for the treatment. Philippa Eilhart's prescription called for a Rose of Remembrance, dwarven immortelle, a magical artifact, and royal blood.
The Rose of Remembrance had already been delivered. He carried an abundant supply of dwarven immortelle, and a Dragon's Dream crystal would serve perfectly well as the magical artifact.
As for the final ingredient, royal blood, Victor had decided to visit Prince Stennis under cover of darkness tonight and help him make a blood donation.
The alchemist also wanted to conduct a few scientific experiments on the prince's royal body.
The situation had begun like this.
Not long after completing the spirit dream, Victor had been sorting through Serrit's possessions. He took out the School of the Viper witcher's dagger to remember him, and when his hand closed around the hilt, he unexpectedly heard the Weapon Voice.
...
[Name: Serrit's Dagger]
[Type: Weapon]
[Quality: Fine]
[Attack Power: Ordinary]
[Trait: Kingslayer: Unicorn Bloodline]
[Enchantment: None]
[Notes: A custom-made dagger belonging to a witcher of the School of the Viper]
...
This was the weapon Serrit had thrown at Henselt the previous night, inflicting only a shallow wound on the king.
Victor had failed to notice anything unusual when he recovered it from the tent where Auckes's body had been kept. Only when he held it in remembrance and examined it carefully did he discover something astonishing.
Void traits had always been extremely rare in the Witcher world.
Victor had never imagined that this world might possess its own unique native traits. Even more unexpectedly, the concept of a kingslayer, something that did not exist in the world of alchemy, had manifested as a Void trait.
...
[Name: Kingslayer: Unicorn Bloodline]
[Applicable To: Weapons]
[Effect: Within a ten-yard radius, massively increases all attributes and armor penetration when a hostile target possesses the Unicorn bloodline]
...
At first glance, its applications were extremely narrow and its conditions harsh.
The enemy needed to possess the Unicorn bloodline, meaning they had to belong to Kaedwen's royal house. The wielder also needed to be close enough for the trait to activate.
However, and there was always a however, the word "massively" in the description was no exaggeration.
It was second only to the modifier "leaps and bounds." Even the Hammer of Justice and the Dreadful King merely described their effects as "effective."
In other words, this was an immensely powerful Void trait under the right circumstances.
When the time came to kill Henselt, Victor could equip it and descend like a god within ten yards, capable of standing against an entire nation at arm's length.
Once he had considered how the trait might be used, another question emerged.
How had this trait appeared?
If the dagger had already possessed it when Serrit charged into the tent, Victor did not believe he could have stopped him. Serrit might have killed him in their first exchange.
Assuming the dagger had not possessed the trait at the beginning, it had undergone only one significant event between leaving Serrit's hand and falling into Victor's possession.
It had struck King Henselt of Kaedwen.
Had it gained the Void trait afterward?
Had the act of attempted assassination bestowed the trait?
Was it an effect of royal blood?
Or did both conditions need to be satisfied simultaneously?
Victor intended to discover the answer.
The witcher soon passed through the spectral mist. Behind him, the fighting and wailing of skeletal wraiths continued to echo day and night without end.
...
It was late at night when he reached the abandoned village.
The desolate scenery remained unchanged.
Victor found the hidden door he remembered and swiftly pulled it open.
"R-O-O-M! R-O-O-M! R-O-O-O-O-OWO!"
Madam Miruna's rhythmic English lesson floated out from below.
The other domineering voice spoke English fairly well too.
"HO-R-R-R! WO-O-O-O! WO-HO-O-O-YA!"
Clearly, both participants were formidable warriors brought together by destiny, and their fighting spirit was soaring.
Caught completely unprepared, Victor felt as though a truck had driven straight over his face and left two tire tracks behind.
He wondered whether he should shout "Fus Ro Dah" to encourage them.
After some thought, he abandoned the idea.
He might frighten the mighty warrior into permanent impotence, or even cause his weapon to break on the battlefield. The resulting scene would be far too bloody.
Victor quietly climbed down the ladder and followed the corridor into Madam Miruna's bedchamber once again.
He only intended to see whether Dandelion was still there. If he was not, Victor would leave silently without looking at anything else.
His superhuman hearing detected no additional breathing.
Therefore, as long as the valiant warrior on the bed was not Dandelion, Victor could return to Vergen with peace of mind.
As he passed around the concealing screen, he suddenly thought that the mighty man's voice sounded rather familiar.
Victor paid it little attention and looked directly toward the enormous canopied bed.
...
(灬oωo灬)
...
( )
...
(??ω??)?
.
The mighty warrior fiercely entangled with Madam Miruna was none other than the Sword of Destiny, the North's mightiest stud, Geralt of Rivia.
They stared at each other.
Cat's eyes met the blue Rinnegan.
This was the true meaning of awkwardness. Victor felt that he had no business being there and ought to crawl under the nearest bed.
What happened next was even more terrifying.
Geralt stopped moving, causing Miruna to notice Victor standing beside the bed in a daze.
The succubus's exposed fangs looked charming as she extended a slender arm and hooked it around the young man's.
Her enormous, rosy-tipped breasts swayed against her wheat-colored skin.
"I'm glad you ended that fool's miserable torment. Would you like to join us?"
...
At that exact moment.
"Geralt! Vic! No!"
Ciri abruptly sat up drenched in sweat, covering her face as she refused to believe what she had just seen.
Yes, at the moment Miruna took Victor by the arm, somewhere in another world among the infinite reaches of time and space, Ciri awakened from a nightmare yet again.
She was inside a tent amid the frozen wilderness of Siberia.
The vision had been blurry, but there was no mistaking the horrifying and unspeakably depraved threat it represented.
Ciri could not understand it.
The last time she saw Vic, he and Geralt had been fighting fiercely. How had they suddenly ended up doing something like that together?
She covered her face, unwilling to believe the image.
Why had they suddenly turned from enemies into such intimate friends?
Was this moral decay, or had humanity itself gone mad?
As she panted heavily, a hand emerged from the sleeping bag beside her and picked up a towel, gently wiping away the cold sweat on her face.
"Ciri, are you all right? Did you dream about the future again?"
Gazing at the kind and considerate woman beside her, the Lady of Space and Time did not know what to say.
Lara Croft had been a brave young university student when she and Ciri met one year earlier on an island sealed off by abnormal weather.
Together, they had defeated the legendary Sun Queen Himiko and freed Yamatai from its endless storms. They had also collaborated to explore fourteen different uses for nunchaku.
Unfortunately, happy lives never lasted.
While sailing back to Lara's homeland, a sudden nightmare had reminded Ciri of the responsibilities she had left unfinished.
She had therefore chosen to depart.
What she had never expected was that her Unreliable Teleportation (unreliable crossing) would transport her one year forward within the same world and place her directly beside Lara again, this time in the ancient Siberian city of Kitezh.
According to legend, the city had been founded during the thirteenth century by Georgy II, Grand Prince of Vladimir, and concealed the secret of immortality.
Her friend was in trouble, and the Lady of Space and Time naturally could not stand aside.
She immediately joined forces with Lara once again to oppose the mysterious organization known as Trinity. Together, they survived threats from enemies, wild beasts, and the brutal environment while searching for the truth behind the legend.
Then, while the two spent the night together in a tent amid the frozen wilderness, Ciri was awakened by her nightmare.
After wiping away Ciri's cold sweat, the ponytailed Lara gazed at her with moist, gentle eyes and kissed her forehead.
"Another nightmare? Has something terrible happened in your homeland again?
"I'll be fine. Even if I'm left alone, I'm confident that I can defeat that evil organization. I simply didn't expect you to leave again so soon."
"Uh... No, I'm not planning to leave."
Remembering the shocking scene she had just witnessed, Ciri suddenly felt exhausted.
"It was a nightmare, but I intend to continue operating here for a while."
"You don't have to apologize. Everyone has her own responsibilities... Wait, you're not leaving?"
Ciri shook her head with unshakable determination and gave a bitter smile.
"Honestly, I think they're having a wonderful time right now. They don't need me at all."
After speaking, she embraced her closest friend.
Ciri met Lara's tender gaze, and after practicing with their nunchaku, the two fell peacefully asleep, conserving their energy for the next day's battle.
...
Back in the Witcher world, Victor Corion, honorary professor in the Department of Philosophy at Oxenfurt Academy, was contemplating a moral dilemma with his eyes closed.
Moral universalism was a monistic ethical position which held that universal moral principles existed and applied equally to everyone, regardless of culture, race, gender, religion, nationality, sexual orientation, or any other distinguishing characteristic.
For example, all humans shared common weaknesses, such as pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth.
There were also rational requirements found across different cultures, as well as the commandments of the gods.
Compared with moral universalism, however, Victor's values were actually closer to moral relativism.
Moral relativists opposed moral universalists and insisted that no universal standard existed by which ethics and morality could be judged.
Within philosophy, moral relativism held that morality and ethics did not reflect objective or universal moral truths. Instead, morality was shaped by society, culture, history, and individual circumstances.
The relativist position maintained that moral values applied only within specific cultural boundaries or within the context of an individual's choices.
Extreme relativism even proposed that the moral judgments and actions of other individuals or groups possessed no relevance whatsoever to the individual.
After all that discussion, the important point was that the moon looked beautiful tonight from the roof of the ruined village.
Footsteps clattered nearby.
Geralt, who had hurriedly concluded his battle, approached the building, climbed easily onto the roof, and sat beside Victor to admire the moon.
"Where's Dandelion?" Victor asked.
Under the moonlight, Geralt's white hair gleamed like the fur of the White Wolf.
"He returned to Vergen long ago. He was the one who asked me to search this area for the murderous Scoia'tael."
"Ele'yas was dealt with by Lansi. Oh, Lansi is Iorveth's lieutenant."
"I know. I visited your home. Angoulême told me many things, including your friendship with the Kingslayers."
Their conversation remained peaceful.
Geralt said nothing further, but Victor understood what he meant.
The unpleasantness between them was in the past.
They could pretend it had never happened, or accept that it had happened but decide that it no longer mattered.
"I'll wager a thousand crowns that your friendship with the Kingslayers is even deeper than mine. Shall we settle the bet after you recover your memory?"
"I'll wager two thousand crowns!"
The White Wolf's immediate counterattack made the Dragonborn laugh heartily.
Then Victor sighed quietly.
Even if Geralt recovered his memories of the Kingslayers, Auckes and Serrit would never return.
Unaware of Victor's thoughts, Geralt leaned backward and lay on the roof.
"I'll tell you a secret. My memories are returning.
"For a long time, they were only scattered fragments, but I can feel them coming together again."
Beneath the brilliant moonlight, Victor whistled.
"Your memory is returning? What do you remember?"
The White Wolf's voice was hoarse and resonant.
"A journey during winter. An endless search toward the south. I was following Yennefer and the Wild Hunt. I don't know how long I searched.
"Wolves, drowners, and rotfiends appeared in great numbers.
"In one village I passed through, only elderly people remained. They refused to tell me what had happened to the young people and children.
"Eventually, I used a Sign to force one of them to speak.
"He told me the Wild Hunt had taken the young people and children."
"The Wild Hunt, spectral riders led by the King of the Wild Hunt. They wear rusted armor, wield swords shaped like lightning, and ride skeletal horses in great companies across the sky.
"Those who see the Wild Hunt in the night sky are paralyzed with terror, while anyone who blocks their path inevitably dies or disappears.
"In addition to burning orchards and houses, the Wild Hunt carries away living people to swell the ranks of its spectral riders."
Victor cheerfully recited the description from a book he had once read, The Wild Hunt.
Geralt's tone became solemn.
"Vic, what you're describing comes from storybooks, but I'm beginning to believe those myths contain fragments of truth.
"Some extremely ancient elven poems also describe the Wild Hunt constantly abducting young people and forcing them to fight.
"I'm also beginning to believe that I will eventually find Triss and Yennefer.
"My memories and emotions seem inseparable. It feels as though I'm recovering both at the same time.
"I believe they're still alive, and that I will eventually find them."
"You're right. Triss and Yennefer. White Wolf, they have guided your entire life."
Victor also lay back and gazed at the stars.
"Philosophically speaking, that statement has several serious problems, Vic. First, we don't know whether Yennefer is still alive. Second, we don't know where Triss is now.
"This evening, Angoulême took me to visit Philippa. She searched for Triss with magic, but said Triss was nowhere within the spell's range."
"Yes, you're right. It's as though you apparently have two women, but could suddenly find yourself with none a moment later...
"Very well. Since you told me what you believe, I'll tell you what I believe.
"First, I believe women like them would never die easily.
"Second, I firmly believe in your faith. You will eventually find Triss and Yennefer alive and unharmed."
Geralt glanced sideways at Victor's almost prophetic expression of solemn devotion, shook his head, and laughed.
"There's something strange about you. You seem to have more confidence in me than I have in myself."
"Of course. You're Geralt of Rivia, a legendary witcher.
"Speaking of which, you're in love with Triss now. Have you decided how you're going to face Yennefer?"
"Everyone, including Triss, tells me that I love Yennefer. But until I see her, I won't know what to do."
They continued talking about everything beneath the stars.
After their earlier misunderstanding, this conversation unexpectedly brought them closer together.
...
The night passed, and dawn approached.
Once their conversation ended, the two went their separate ways.
Victor headed toward Vergen, while Geralt returned to the Kaedweni camp.
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