Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

As expected, the castle gates were open.

Effensor's return wasn't late, but it wasn't early either. Normally, Vesemir would return by the end of September, and by mid-October, all the Witchers who might return would be back at the castle.

Further on, it might snow in November. Winters in the Blue Mountains are exceptionally long, lasting from the end of October to the beginning of March. During this time, it snows, and sometimes in very heavy quantities, completely blocking the roads. So, if you want to get back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, you have to leave early.

As always, Effensor dismounted at the castle gate, led the horse to the wooden post, tied the reins to it, poured hay into the stone trough in front of Walker, and finally brought a bucket of water and placed it in front of him.

Walker, however, did not graze. Instead, he and the other horses beside him stared at each other, wide-eyed.

Effin counted them and found there were six horses in total, including Walker's. He recognized the horses of Vesemir, Lambert, and Escal. There was one horse he had never seen before, but he could tell it was Geralt's horse by the saddle.

Who owns the other horse?

A guest?

Effensor became curious; judging from the dried-out head of Hekna on the horse's saddle, she seemed to be a witcher as well.

With a touch of curiosity, he took out five bottles of old wine he had brought back from Novigrad from his saddlebag and eagerly headed deeper into the castle.

Along the way, Effensor discovered more unusual things.

There's a mannequin in the training ground? The one he used for training when he was a kid? And a wooden sword?

Who would train like that?

Besides, who put the wreaths on the mannequins? Effensor didn't think a few old men would have such an elegant interest.

All these strange phenomena baffled him.

Effensor's curiosity grew even stronger. As he approached the main building's main entrance, the aroma of roasted pork wafting from the crack in the door became irresistible, and he pushed the door open.

"Squeak..."

Pushing open the door, one is greeted by a spacious hall, with a fireplace on the right burning brightly, and a half-roasted wild boar on top.

As Effensor pushed open the door, four heads turned to look at him simultaneously.

Vesemir seemed relieved, Eskar smiled, Lambert waved him over, and there was another stranger who was also smiling at him. You could tell from his eyes that he was also a witcher.

Geralt, however, is nowhere to be found.

"Effensor!" Lambert was still waving at him. "Come here! Sit down!"

"OK."

Effensor walked over with a smile and handed everyone a bottle of wine before sitting down, including the witcher he was meeting for the first time.

"Oh, let me see..." Lambert calmly took it, glanced at the label on the back of the bottle, and immediately complained, "I knew it. Just like before, you bring the same wine every year. I'm so tired of it."

"Don't say that," Eskar smiled, looking at Effinso. "Thank you. Besides, at least you'll bring something back, unlike some people. I remember who packed up all the white seagulls and took them away the year before last?"

"I thought it was dwarven spirits used for alchemy," Lambert immediately retorted.

Despite his apparent disdain, he had already unscrewed the cork and eagerly took a swig from the bottle.

"Ha." Eskar chuckled, then turned to introduce Effinso.

"This is Cohen, a Witcher from the Griffin School. And Cohen, this is Effensor, whom I've mentioned several times before."

"Nice to meet you." Cohen smiled and extended his hand. He looked quite young, with a refined and cultured demeanor. His hair was neatly combed back and then curled into a bun. He also had a full beard, making him look like a hermit. Just from his appearance, one could tell that he was a learned man.

"Nice to meet you."

Effensor smiled and shook hands with him. Based on his first impression, he thought Cohen was a very nice person.

"By the way," he said, then looked at Eskar and asked, "You said you mentioned me several times before, what did you mention?"

"Ha! Don't worry!"

Before Eskar could speak, Lambert waved at Effinso and said, "Anyway, I didn't mention those things from your childhood. But you're really something, daring to go to the battlefield, and even going straight to the front lines in Sintra..."

Affinso had just uncorked the bottle, poured the wine into a glass, and taken a sip when he heard those words, and immediately spat it out.

"puff!"

"What?" He looked at Lambert in disbelief, then at the others, who all seemed calm.

"How did you know?"

"I asked in surprise."

"Oh, we know even more."

Vesemir, who had been silent and just staring at Effensor, suddenly spoke.

"For example, you almost died on the battlefield, or you were covered in wounds and nearly died on the way, or you were able to refuse more than four thousand crowns."

Then Vesemir sighed, looking at Effensor with a complicated expression, and said, "You've really grown up."

"However, I still have to remind you that this world is dangerous, so be careful. There is no shame in running away when you encounter an enemy you cannot defeat. And a witcher is not a knight. I don't ask you to uphold any virtues, as long as you do not violate the principles in your heart, you can make your own decisions."

"Furthermore, I advise you not to go to a dangerous place like Sintra. War and politics are not things we should get involved in..."

Vesemir was quiet when he was quiet, but once he started talking, he wouldn't stop.

"The old man's starting to nag again," Lambert muttered under his breath, but he didn't leave, just continued drinking by himself.

Affinso, the person involved, didn't find it annoying at all. Instead, he listened attentively to Vesemir's earnest teachings, even though he had heard them at least ten times.

He understood that Vesemir was concerned about him.

Cohen had been observing with interest, but when he heard Vesemir say, "War and politics are not things we should be involved in," he frowned slightly.

Like Effensor, Escal listened quietly, showing utmost respect.

Time ticked by, and Vesemir talked for a long time, from various common dangers to regions that had become dangerous due to changes in the political situation, and then to the painful lessons he had experienced or witnessed, until the roast pig on the fireplace was browned and sizzling with oil, before he finally stopped.

Vesemir picked up the cup and took a big gulp of water to moisten his dry throat.

"Well, it's your life, you have to choose for yourself," Vesemir concluded.

"I've got it all, Vesemir." Effensor nodded seriously.

He truly remembered it, literally.

Effensor was confident that he could memorize Vesemir's words anytime, anywhere, and perhaps one day he could write a book called "The Sayings of Vesemir".

But then again, Effensor remembered his question from the beginning.

"So..." He looked at the four of them curiously, "How did you know? My story has been turned into poetry and is starting to circulate on the mainland?"

"Dream on!" Lambert laughed.

Eskar and Cohen laughed, while Vesemir said somewhat helplessly, "This brings us to that little devil..."

"What is it?"

Effensor paused again.

Just then, the door was pushed open again.

Effinso turned his head and saw Geralt looking exhausted. He was covered in all sorts of mud, as if he had been rolling around in a mud pit on the shore, and he was carrying a wild deer on his shoulder.

"Geralt..."

Before Effensor could finish speaking, he was interrupted by another excited and lively little voice.

"We've caught it!"

A little girl with gray hair walked in happily, carrying a sharpened wooden stick.

Gray hair, green eyes, a familiar face, a familiar voice.

It's Ciri...

Effensor opened his mouth, but then stopped himself from speaking.

How did Geralt and Ciri end up together?

While Effensor was lost in thought, Ciri also saw him.

"Effensor!"

She exclaimed in surprise.

"That's why we know all about you," Vesemir said with a shrug and a smile.

"What were you doing, Geralt? I remember you just went to check the traps."

Aiskar looked at Geralt covered in mud and asked in confusion.

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "Your trap worked. It did catch a deer."

"Then?"

"Then when we went back, a group of water ghosts suddenly attacked us. I had no choice but to fight. Then these water ghosts stole the deer, and I had to chase them back to their lair to get it back. Luckily, they didn't have a chance to eat it yet."

Geralt threw the filthy deer onto the floor and then began to remove his equally filthy armor.

Ciri dropped the stick and rushed over to give Effensor a hug.

When she loosened her embrace, Affinso's body was covered in mud spots of all sizes, emitting a faint odor.

"Looks like I'll have to take a shower today." Effensor smiled, not minding, and then asked the question she most wanted to know.

"By the way, I remember you were planning to stay with Christine indefinitely..."

"Actually, Geralt arrived not long after you left. Then, because of that Unexpected Law, he took me away again. It actually happened once before," Ciri explained with a grin, looking genuinely happy.

"I just left? Unexpected law?"

Effensor paused for a moment, then stared silently at the ceiling.

OK OK.

Fate, I suppose.

Is this how you play?

This is really... annoying.

And so it is—no, even so, he will try to rewrite the course of his destiny.

At least… Effensor glanced at Vesemir.

Old men should live a good life.

Therefore... he must accept good fortune and change bad fortune.

Correct.

That's how it should be done...

Thoughts drifted by in an instant, and the next moment I was back in reality.

"Yes!" came Ciri's voice. She nodded first, then took a small stone out of her pocket and put it into Effensor's hand.

"And this is a gift for you."

When Effensor looked down, he realized it wasn't an ordinary rock, but a fossil.

There was a blurry pattern of a conch-shaped creature on the rock. If Effensor remembered correctly, this thing should be called a nautilus.

"I swear I absolutely didn't carve this!" Ciri assured him confidently. "It looked like this when I found it."

"Of course, I believe you."

Effensor smiled and nodded, accepting the fossil.

"Kaer Morhen means ancient sea fortress. Countless years ago, this place was an ocean."

……

Kaer Moham was exceptionally lively this year.

In previous years, there were usually only three or four people, and it was rare for five to gather together. But now, there are seven people in Kaer Morhen, instantly bringing life to the cold and dilapidated castle.

Lambert placed the roast pig on the table, and Escal brought over a whole case of wine, filling everyone's glasses to the brim, while Ciri's glass was filled with raspberry juice.

"Cheers!"

"Bang!"

The first glass of wine was downed in no time, then the second, and the third. The wine was consumed as quickly as the roast pig on the table.

Blue Mountain wild boars grow up high in the mountains, feeding on wildflowers and fruits, resulting in tender, chewy meat with a subtle fruity aroma—truly unique in the world. This untreated pork boasts a perfect lean-to-fat ratio, achieving a perfect balance of richness without being greasy. Each bite is bursting with flavor, the melting fat exploding in your mouth, releasing an irresistible aroma that tantalizes the taste buds.

In addition, pairing it with some raspberries and pickles elevates the flavor even further.

If you soak up the oil from the roasted meat with the dry bread and make it soft and tender, then roll it up with a piece of roasted meat and put it in your mouth, your taste buds will experience an explosive pleasure.

At first, Effinso was able to chat and laugh, but gradually, Vesemir's face split in two, and Geralt, sitting beside him, seemed to suddenly stand up and then suddenly sit down, his height fluctuating. As time passed, the world before his eyes was sliding towards the brink of collapse.

The flickering flames in the fireplace seemed to transform into tiny fire figures, dancing around him. Bottles floated around him, and the world he saw was filtered through a heavy lens, everything shrouded in a strange halo.

"Effensor!"

Lambert suddenly shook his shoulder, and Effensor turned his head to see that Lambert was holding a stack of cards in his hand.

That's... Fortress?

Gwent?

Gwent!

A sudden jolt ran through Effensor, and his eyes became clear.

"Come?"

"I asked Lambert."

"Come!"

Effensor took out all his cards as well.

He glanced around. Escal was already fast asleep by the fireplace, clutching a bottle of wine. Geralt and Cohen were also drunk, drinking and playing rock-paper-scissors, with the loser having to drink a penalty shot.

But their thoughts were clearly in disarray. Cohen threw paper, Geralt threw a punch, and as a result, Cohen was judged to have lost.

Ciri and Vesemir disappeared. The old man only had two drinks and then stopped drinking. It seems he had anticipated today's outcome; he didn't drink too much so he could clean up the mess later.

"Hey! Don't get distracted!"

Lambert pulled Effensor back from his reverie, chuckled, and immediately placed a spy card on the table.

"Ah, ha! A spy?"

Effensor glanced at Lambert, who had a provocative look on his face, and smiled.

OK OK.

"Lambert, Lambert... how could you possibly think of using the tricks I taught you against me? Bait!"

Effensor doesn't remember anything after that.

When he woke up the next day, he found himself thrown into a bedroom next to the alchemy laboratory on the third floor of the castle. His armor and dirty clothes had been taken off and thrown on the floor, and he was lying half-naked on the bed.

This was his old room, and the book he had half-read when he came back two years ago is still on the bedside table.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun shone brightly, the weather was clear, and clouds swirled in the sky. The wind was exceptionally strong today; even from inside, Effensor could hear the howling of the wind through the forest.

Effensor rummaged through the house and found a set of old clothes. Fortunately, they didn't smell musty, so they could wear them for now.

He parted the bed curtains, which were billowing in the wind, and went out onto the balcony.

Kaer Morhen looked quite desolate in late autumn, with withered yellow leaves covering the ground and even inside the castle, all blown in by the wind.

As far as the eye can see, the mountains are ablaze with red and yellow. Flocks of birds migrate south, their calls echoing across the skies above Kaermohan.

Looking down, Geralt and Cohen stood on either side, like two guardian deities, watching Ciri train. She was practicing the most basic sword swings, using the mannequin wearing a wreath as a model, mechanically repeating the same movements with a wooden sword in hand.

Effensor guessed that Ciri must be very impatient now. This kind of boring and tedious basic training is the most agonizing, but only in this way can muscle memory be formed and the correct sword swinging action be integrated into instinct.

But are they planning to train Ciri to be a witcher?

Otherwise, why train her?

Effensor was a little puzzled; he had never seen a female Witcher. Not to mention, the horrifying experimental records in those ancient books had been preserved intact—after the birth of the Witcher, of course, some people had tried to create female Witchers, but after countless failures, no one succeeded in the end.

None of the girls who underwent the experiment had the physical strength to withstand the grass trial, and this physiological difference ultimately led to the sinking of nearly two hundred skeletons to the bottom of the lake.

What about Ciri? Will she be an exception?

Effensor glanced at the clear sky. Fate can turn the impossible into the possible. If Ciri was destined to become a Witcher, then she would never fall halfway.

In his memory, the future Ciri didn't seem to have vertical pupils.

She seems to be able to use swordsmanship and sword oil to fight, yet she can also unleash magic.

She doesn't seem like a Witcher... Did she really experience a mutation?