Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

For most of his time after returning to Kaer Morhen, Effensor devoted himself to the dilapidated library.

Despite the looting and burning, Kaer Morhen still possessed a considerable collection of books, all of which were carefully organized by Vesemir and placed on the blackened bookshelves scorched by smoke and fire.

Effensor was almost always engrossed in his books, eagerly absorbing magical knowledge while also putting it into practice, transforming the theoretical knowledge he had learned into real experience.

The fragments of Redeni's soul allowed him to stand on the shoulders of giants, giving him a general sense of the right direction when studying magic, preventing him from taking detours or going astray.

This is roughly equivalent to him having a highly experienced and powerful mage by his side providing him with personal guidance.

Regarding the mutation of the Golden Left Hand in Effensor, he actually had no intention of hiding the truth. These were people he had known for decades, people he could completely trust, so there was no need to conceal it.

However, this year's Kaer Morhanh saw the addition of a character that Effensor had not anticipated—Cohen.

Although Cohen is a very nice person and his character follows the standard, noble Griffin principles, he... has only known Effensor for a short time.

Because of this concern, Effensor ultimately chose not to reveal the secret of his left hand, instead using the excuse of "an inescapable curse" to gloss over the matter.

Well, it actually worked very well; everyone except Vesemir was fooled.

That very night, Vesemir, carrying a bunch of herbs and exorcism tools, kicked open Effinso's bedroom door, pinned the awakened Effinso down, and tried to exorcise the evil spirit from Effinso's hands.

Vesemir's experience and keen eyesight allowed him to sense that Effensor was hiding a broken soul. He misunderstood Effensor's dishonesty and assumed that Effensor was possessed by an evil spirit or threatened for some reason, ultimately being forced to lie.

Before Affinso was forcibly fed the snake heart grass, he finally succeeded in convincing Vesemir that he was truly normal.

However, things had come to this point, and Affinso could no longer keep it a secret.

He told Vesemir everything, from finding the memory crystal to getting the sword from the shadowy figure.

After listening, Vesemir fell silent.

Effensor couldn't decipher the complex expression on his face. Bathed in moonlight, he stood motionless, like a marble statue, seemingly lost in thought.

Vesemir probably thought about it a lot, perhaps he had already gone through all thirty-plus years of Effortso's life in his mind, but in the end he must have come to an unchanging answer...

"Child," Vesemir slowly sat down beside Affinso, "would you be willing to take some time to listen to my advice?"

"certainly."

Effensor nodded, listening attentively.

After much deliberation, Vesemir realized it was time for a long talk, or rather, a sermon.

There wasn't anything particularly special about it; as usual, Vesemir recounted all his experiences and painful lessons to Affinso. In his life, which was longer than the history of Kaer Morhen, he had so much to tell.

The conversation began at midnight and ended at sunrise.

As the first rays of sunlight streamed into the room, Vesemir's words gradually came to an end.

“I’ve always sensed that you’re different from others,” Vesemir said, rising to his feet. “I’ve felt it since the day I found you.”

"You are extremely lucky. The waves cannot harm you, and you miraculously survived several accidents in your childhood."

"You are very smart. You don't look like a child at all. It's as if you were born knowing a lot. In some aspects, you know more than I do."

"You are exceptionally diligent. You enjoy reading books that I find tedious. You are willing to put in a hundred times the effort to improve yourself."

"You have exceptional talent. You even passed the Grass Trial with ease. You learn and understand both magic seals and swordsmanship very quickly. Your comprehension is extraordinary."

"I'm almost certain that you are someone with a special mission, just like Farja."

He sighed as he spoke.

"Now, there's not much more I can do to help you. I just hope that while you're fulfilling a certain mission, you can be the person you want to be and do what you want to do, instead of being bound by it."

With that, Vesemir left the room.

He left behind a final sentence.

"My final piece of advice is that you sleep until lunchtime from now on. You've been buried in books for three days and three nights; it's time for you to take a break."

Then, the door was gently closed.

Effensor stared at the closed door, lost in thought.

My mission...?

Well, who knows?

I'd better go to sleep first.

When you know nothing about the future or your destiny, thinking too much is nothing but pointless speculation and a waste of energy.

With each blink of his eyelids, Effensor's world shifted between light and darkness.

The slightly dim morning light transforms into a bright afternoon, but whether the light is bright or dim, it always feels languid once it shines into the bedroom.

After struggling to get out of bed and freeing himself from the covers, Effensor spent some time tidying himself up before hurrying downstairs.

The dining table had long been cleaned up, leaving only a large iron pot half-filled with meat soup and a piece of bread as hard as a rock.

Lunchtime has long passed. If lunch was served at noon today, judging by how cold the broth is, it's probably around 2 PM now.

Escal went out to set traps and hunt, while Lambert tinkered with his alchemy in the alchemy room, trying to revive the lost Witcher bombs and potions.

Vesemir and Cohen were doing something, and neither of them had a fixed daily schedule.

As for Geralt, he must be training Ciri.

Effinso could see he was anxious, eager to improve Ciri's physical abilities. The only explanation Effinso could think of was that Geralt intended for Ciri to undergo the Trial of the Grass, just like the other Chosen Ones. They were sent by fate, and then returned to fate by the Witcher through the Trial of the Grass, leaving their fate to decide their lives.

Effensor didn't think it was a good idea and opposed it.

The experiments with female witchers have never succeeded. Furthermore, based on his knowledge of the future, Ciri may not necessarily become a witcher, and she may not even have undergone any mutations.

But he could only offer suggestions; Ciri was Geralt's chosen one, and Effinso had no right to interfere. Only Vesemir in the entire castle could intervene on this matter.

He looked at the completely cooled broth. Although it didn't look very appealing, with his stomach empty, the faint aroma of greasy meat wafting into his nose instantly transformed the soup into a rare delicacy in his eyes.

Effensor ate with relish the hard bread, and soon finished everything on the table.

After eating and drinking his fill, he picked up a huge backpack that he had packed the day before, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and walked toward the gate.

In his research on signs, Effensor has now received a large number of books from Kaer Morhen. Although this knowledge about magic is incomplete and not very diverse, it has solved Effensor's immediate problem.

With the added inspiration and ideas from his left hand, he has completed a complete overhaul of Quen and Yarden. Now he just needs to find a place with abundant magic to put it into practice.

Where is the magic most concentrated in Kaer Morhen?

It's the Ring of Elements, of course.

So Effensor decided to take a risk and go to the Elemental Ring, even though it looked like it was going to snow heavily.

If we wait until the temperature drops sharply and the snow keeps falling, there won't even be any roads left, so where will we be able to go?

As Effensor pushed open the main gate of the castle, soft sunlight fell on his face. As usual, it was a lazy afternoon, calm and peaceful.

Geralt trained Ciri's balance in the training grounds by having her walk blindfolded on a long horizontal log.

He even found a stick and would occasionally swing it around Ciri to simulate a sudden attack in actual combat. At the same time, he would point out Ciri's mistakes and impart some experience.

Seeing Effensor pass by, Geralt temporarily stopped training.

"Are you going out?" he asked.

"Hmm. The Elemental Ring, we'll probably have to spend the night there."

"Spend the night? Aren't you afraid the trolls and Old Spearhead will... "

Geralt made a gesture as if he were eating.

"No, that won't happen." Effensor shook his head. "Old Spearhead has already begun to hibernate. As for the trolls, we just need to give them a few stones."

"It's good that you've considered this... but why the sudden urge to go to this place?" Geralt asked in return.

"We need a place with plenty of magic."

Effensor gave a brief reply, which could only be described as "as stated."

Geralt knew, of course, that the Elemental Rings were brimming with magic...

Geralt simply nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

Geralt practically watched Effinso grow up, so he knew Effinso's personality perfectly well.

If he doesn't want to talk about something, no matter how many times you ask or how much you pry, you won't get the answer you want; you'll only get his perfunctory responses.

Therefore, Geralt could easily imagine that if he kept asking, Effinso would definitely evade the question and give some irrelevant answers.

So it's better not to ask.

Ciri, on the other hand, was quite curious. She removed her blindfold and asked, "What are the Elemental Rings?"

"You'll find out later." Geralt smiled, but his movements were a little slow, and his brows furrowed unconsciously.

"So, you really intend to let her..." Effinso looked at Ciri, who knew nothing, and said to Geralt.

He didn't finish his sentence, but Geralt already understood what he meant.

"Hmm," he replied listlessly, seemingly in a bad mood.

"You should know that the Witcher isn't even a legend; that's impossible."

"I know, but fate has entrusted her to me, to train her to be a witcher... I refused 11 years ago, I refused again the year before last, but now I have no choice."

Geralt's tone was heavy; he knew the risks were immense and the chances of survival were slim. Before, when he knew nothing of this, he had been confident that fate would make Ciri the first Witcher.

However, Effensor later found the books that recorded the failed experiments of female witchers, as well as Vesemir's experience as evidence—in his long life of hundreds of years, all the witchers he had seen were male.

"Perhaps she doesn't need to be a witcher physically," Effensor couldn't help but offer a word of advice.

Geralt nodded silently.

But then he sighed.

He recalled the fate that had brought Ciri to him time and time again, and in his eyes, Ciri was destined to become a witcher.

If that's the case, then the Grass Trial can never fail.

Absolutely not, possibly, will fail...

Geralt repeated it forcefully in his mind.

"I have to go," Effensor said, glancing at the sun. "I have to get there before sunset."

Geralt, his eyes glued to Ciri's training, asked without turning his head, "When are you coming back tomorrow?"

"This afternoon then. There's no need to save lunch for me."

"it is good."

Geralt unconsciously swung the wooden stick in his hand lightly, like a gambler rolling dice in a casino, feeling uneasy yet hoping for a miracle.

There wasn't much Effensor could do; he could only pat Geralt on the shoulder before carrying his large bag toward the castle gate.

There he took some more food from the saddle and fed Walker, whom he hadn't seen all day, thus cultivating a not-so-deep bond.

Then, carrying a huge travel backpack that reached his chest, he walked toward a path leading to the lake.

Actually, there's a hole in the side of the castle, which could be considered a shortcut. But according to Lambert, Vesemir, who was waiting for Effortso in the castle last year, waited for so long, from autumn to late spring, that he had the entire castle repaired.

This naturally included what others saw as a "shortcut," and what Vesemir considered "the ugliest part of the castle," so Vesemir patched up the big hole.

Effensor soon reached the lakeside, untied the rope that had been tied to the dock, and rowed his small boat toward the opposite shore.

The lake's surface rippled gently, the light waves spreading out with the mountain breeze. The lake water possessed a texture most common and unique to high-altitude regions—cool and clear. This lake was like a piece of pure glass. Reflecting the azure sky, it resembled a sapphire from afar, but upon closer inspection, under the sunlight, the lake surface shimmered like a crystal sea, the previous blue color vanishing completely.

The small boat drifted across the calm lake like a fallen leaf, leaving a ripple in the water and adding a silvery-white crack to this flawless gem.

Upon reaching the other side, Effensor disembarked, tied the small boat to a wooden stake by the lake, and easily climbed up a rock wall to find the dark cave entrance.

Although there is a safe and risk-free path that leads directly to the Elemental Ring, it is a long detour.

Rather than that, it would be better to go through the mountain trial again... Anyway, Effensor is no longer the rookie he used to be, and he would never wake up the old spearhead.

In this cavern as deep as a black hole, Effensor could faintly hear the snoring coming from inside, presumably from the old spearhead just beginning its hibernation.

He remembered years ago, when he first came here, he had also faced the awakened monster in the darkness. He remembered its enormous single eye and its towering form that stood like a pillar supporting the sky in the cave... The oppressive aura emanating from the old spearhead was unique.

All Effensor could do at that moment was to take advantage of the moment when the old spearhead was still a little dazed after waking up, muster all his courage, turn his fear into a frantic scream, and do his best to stab him in the calf.

He then rolled awkwardly on the ground, dodging the heavy punch from the old spearhead, and ran towards the other end of the cave without looking back.

Old Spearhead clutched his leg and howled on the ground, his angry roars echoing repeatedly in the cave, as if they were right next to his ears, as if Old Spearhead were chasing him. This plunged Effensor into deep fear; he only dared to run forward desperately, not even daring to look back.

Effensor only stopped when the sunlight shone on his face again and the old spearhead's roar faded into the distance.

Now, the shadow cast by the old spearhead has long since faded.

Effensor stepped into the foul-smelling, dark cave once more, but this time he was no longer as tense and fearful as before; now, only a sense of peace filled his heart.

He traversed the winding passages, climbing up and down the undulating caverns. Effensor didn't even drink the Cat's Eye potion; relying solely on the faint glow of the Igni sign on his fingertips to orient himself, he arrived at the widest part of the cave.

Fresh corpses, rotting corpses, dried-out corpses, corpses reduced to skeletons, and remains that are nothing but remnants—these things are everywhere here, densely covering the ground.

In the center of the corpse was a huge creature.

Old Spearhead was a full five meters tall when he stood up, and that was with his back bent. If he were to stand up completely straight, his head would probably hit the ceiling of the cave. He was probably seven meters tall then.

Not to mention that terrifying power; Effensor once saw Old Spearhead casually uproot a thick tree with a diameter of one meter.

At this moment, this terrifying monster is sleeping peacefully.

Effensor had no intention of bothering him or killing him. As long as new witchers appeared, the old spearhead would not be eliminated.

For a fleeting moment, Effensor saw a bright, glittering point in his vision, which seemed to be the reflection of something.

The flash was right at his feet.

Effensor glanced at the old spearhead; he was still asleep.

So he crouched down and carefully moved a human skeleton aside, then picked up a small, round piece of iron from the soil.

The iron sheet was already somewhat rusty and its shape was irregular. It was carved by hand, with a wolf's head crookedly carved on one side and a smiling face carved on the other.

Effensor looked at the skeleton; it had probably been dead for decades.

This piece of metal was probably made by an apprentice who hadn't yet become a Witcher; he was supposed to be a Witcher, like Effinso. But with Old Spearhead, everything vanished the moment that hand struck.

Effensor put away the iron plate and quickly left the cave.

The sun was still shining brightly outside, but the shadows in the mountains were already lengthening, and the sun was slowly sinking into the mountains that embraced Kaer Mohan.

And the Elemental Ring is almost here.

No troll suddenly jumped out to block Affine's path. These trolls weren't gatekeepers; they didn't stay in one place every day. Perhaps they were busy hunting today. After all, even trolls had to consider how to survive Kaer Morhen's long, cold winter.

Effensor first set up a tent on the grass next to the ruins of the Elemental Ring, setting up a campfire, a cooking pot, and warning traps before carrying a thick notebook and walking up to the high platform of the Elemental Ring.

As soon as she went up there, Effensor felt an abundance of magic.

If the chaotic magic of ordinary times is like a barely perceptible breeze, almost impossible to feel mixed in with the air, then the chaotic magic of the Elemental Ring is like water in a swimming pool. It is so dense that you can feel the chaotic magic surrounding you. Here, every move you make will make you feel a slight resistance from the chaotic magic.

Effensor removed his gloves, revealing his left hand, which shone like gold, and then assumed the starting posture of the Quen sign.

The scattered magic was instantly drawn in, like a shark smelling blood, rushing towards Effensor, or more precisely, his left hand.