Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

After a while, Vesemir announced that lunch was about to begin. A steaming pot was brought out; it was the perfect time for soup in the cold winter.

Lambert, who was engrossed in the alchemy lab, Escal, who was out checking for traps, and Cohen, who was also responsible for shoveling snow that morning, all returned to the dining table. Ciri, who didn't want to come to eat, was also coaxed and tricked back by Effinso.

"Bang!"

The gate slammed shut, and snow began to fall again outside. This meant that Geralt and Cohen's morning's work had been wasted, and it wouldn't be long before the snow covered the courtyard again.

Today's lunch was rather quiet because there was no wine.

The wine is almost gone. Vesemir had taken half a cellar of wine from the wine merchant to Kaer Morhen in the autumn, but now only two chests remain.

They have to drink sparingly, or they will soon find themselves in the desperate situation of having no alcohol left to drink.

Without alcohol, one can't truly let loose. Witchers rarely get completely drunk; a few small drinks usually don't even leave them slightly tipsy.

Drinking seemed to give them an excuse, a reason to chat endlessly and talk about everything under the sun. Conversely, without a drink, it seemed difficult to even speak.

A short while later, the brief lunch ended. Just as Effensor got up to get the shovel, Cohen called him back.

"Wait, Effensor," Cohen stood up. "Can we talk?"

"it is good."

Effensor was somewhat surprised because Cohen seemed a little strange, both nervous and hesitant, but he still agreed.

Cohen nodded and walked toward the door, with Effensor following closely behind.

The two left the main castle building and found a corner where they wouldn't be blown away by the snow for the time being. Cohen leaned against the wall with a slightly nervous expression, frowning as he stared at Effinso.

He began, "I didn't mean to pry into your secrets."

As soon as Cohen spoke, Effensor was startled, but quickly calmed down.

He had actually anticipated this situation...

I often walk by the river, so how can I not wet my shoes?

"As a Griffin Witcher, I am skilled in signs and more sensitive to magic... so I noticed by chance that there was a magical fluctuation in your location, and this fluctuation was very similar to a sign."

After Cohen finished speaking, his eyes remained fixed on Effensor, but with a hint of anticipation.

"I did gain the ability to cast spells due to an accident."

Effensor calmly admitted it. After months of observation, he was certain that Cohen was a good person, a good person very similar to Gitov. Although Effensor still did not intend to tell his secret to anyone outside the Wolf School, since Cohen had realized it himself, there was no need to hide it.

"Then it seems you're really lucky." Cohen seemed relieved, scratching his beard to reveal some herpes scars. "In all this time, I've only heard of one witcher from the Lion-like School in Ban Ade who could cast spells. You're the second, and the first I've ever seen with my own eyes."

"Don't misunderstand, I have no intention of finding out how you acquired your spellcasting ability, nor will I spread it around."

"I just..." Cohen hesitated for a moment, then suddenly changed the subject.

Do you know anything about the Griffin School?

Effensor shook his head; his understanding of other schools of thought was only superficial.

"In short, we believe that justice and selfless actions are the way of the Witcher. At the same time..." Cohen said slowly.

"We have come a long way in our study of magic and signs."

Hearing this, Effensor vaguely understood Cohen's purpose.

"Therefore, in the spirit of selflessness, I am very willing to share the knowledge of the Griffin School with you."

"I... am very grateful."

Although I had heard of the Griffin Faction's selfless virtues long ago... it was only now that I truly felt that these qualities shone in the Griffin Faction's witchers, and that they were indeed putting them into practice.

"Although you belong to the Wolf School, I think you are the only one who can inherit the knowledge of the Griffin School. As for the other one from the Flying Lion School, if I may be so bold, according to rumors, he is not a good person. I cannot pass on these legacies of my predecessors to him."

Cohen leaned against the wall, his expression dazed and somewhat depressed.

"We cannot trust warlocks either. Kael'thas was destroyed because of the warlocks' covetousness of knowledge, and we are even less likely to entrust this knowledge to them now. However, none of the existing Gryphon Witchers have the ability to cast spells, so faced with Kael'thas' treasures, we can only learn and study the part about signs."

"I think... rather than letting this knowledge be buried in the dust, it's better to hand it over to the right people."

"Cohen." Effensor reached out earnestly and patted Cohen on the shoulder.

He didn't say anything like "Really?"; it was easy to tell from Cohen's tone and demeanor that he was serious.

To show disbelief at this moment is a great insult to the other person's sincerity.

"I'm very grateful to you." He looked into Cohen's eyes and met his gaze.

Thank you for his trust, thank you for his selflessness...

This is a one-sided benefit; Affinso doesn't have to give anything substantial in return.

How could he not be grateful?

"Don't get too excited yet," Cohen suddenly laughed.

"Although I'm pretty sure old Kelda won't mind, if he doesn't like you, I don't know which room he'll assign you to—maybe the underground library."

"But now it's time to shovel snow. Ciri's waiting for you."

Effensor nodded, patted Cohen on the shoulder again, and solemnly said, "I am very grateful," before turning and leaving.

Cohen remained leaning against the wall, silently watching Effensor walk into the heavy snow and gradually disappear behind the overwhelming white curtain.

He only mentioned why he didn't choose the Witcher of the Lion School, but he didn't say the real reason for choosing Effinso.

In the story he heard from Ciri, Effensor braved many dangers to reach Cintra for money, fought a bloody battle against the Nilfgaardians, and finally killed the enemy general, opening a path to survival for the refugees.

In the end, however, he gave up the astronomical reward, remained unmoved by money, and saved the princess and another knight.

He then took Gitov and Hiri to Soden and continued to care for Gitov until he recovered. When Gitov was about to leave, he gave him all of his money.

This is really...

That's so chivalrous, so noble.

Perhaps Effensor simply doesn't care about money, perhaps there's a personal bias involved, or perhaps there's something else going on, but Cohen doesn't care about any of that; he only looks at the facts.

In his eyes, Effensor's journey to Sintra was like a trial of knighthood, which Effensor passed flawlessly. His character was exemplary in Cohen's eyes, a level that was hard to come by.

Having spent these days in the castle, he had seen and heard with his own eyes and ears, and had already made a judgment in his heart about Effensor's character—and the result was undoubtedly excellent.

When Cohen accidentally discovered Effensor casting a spell yesterday, he was first surprised, then delighted.

Without hesitation, he decided to pass on the knowledge of the Griffin School to Effensor.

……

When Effensor hurriedly returned to the courtyard, he found that Ciri had disappeared, leaving only a snowman with a radish nose sticking out of its mouth.

"Ciri?"

He shouted loudly, but suddenly noticed a whooshing sound coming from the air.

"Whoosh!"

Effensor ducked just in time, and a snowball flew past his head and hit the snowman in the face.

"Ha ha!"

Ciri hid behind a snow wall and threw another snowball, which hit Effensor squarely in the butt.

Seeing this, Effensor threw down his shovel and quickly scooped up snow from the ground and rolled it into balls.

Relying on its fortifications, how dare Ciri challenge him?

It seems the lesson learned at Christie's Farm wasn't enough; this time, we're going to smash this little brat into a snowman with snowballs.

Just then, the main gate of the castle was pushed open, and Geralt and Lambert came out.

However, as Effinso bent down, a snowball thrown by Ciri flew towards Geralt.

Geralt reacted quickly, immediately turning his head to dodge. The snowball ended up landing on the unsuspecting Lambert's face, covering him completely.

"Pooh!"

Lambert spat out a mouthful of snow, immediately squatted down, and made a snowball, shouting as he did so, "I don't know who threw this, but you've messed with the wrong person! Uncle Lambert will beat you so badly you won't be able to find your butts..."

"puff!"

Before he could finish speaking, Lambert was hit on the head with another snowball.

He turned around and saw Geralt making a second snowball.

"Geralt! You're doomed too!"

Lambert roared, abandoned making snowballs, and instead stretched out his arms, picked up a large clump of snow, and threw it directly at Geralt.

As Geralt retreated, thinking he had successfully dodged, Lambert kicked the snow, sending it flying. Instantly, countless small snowflakes scattered, covering Geralt like shotgun pellets.

"Squeak!"

The main gate of the castle was pushed open again, and Vesemir and Eskar, hearing the noise, wanted to see what had happened.

The first thing they saw was Effensor's malicious smile and the snowball that kept getting bigger in their field of vision.

The moment he saw the door slightly move, Effensor had already rolled four snowballs, predicted where the two would appear, and finally threw them out at the perfect moment.

He threw four snowballs at once.

Eskar was hit in the head, spitting out snow just like Lambert before him. Meanwhile, Vesemir, who had been hit in the chest three times in a row, patted the snow off himself and laughed.

He couldn't help but start reminiscing about the past—he had so many things worth remembering...

Of course, he didn't just stand there dazed and become a sitting duck; Vesemir's skills were anything but slow.

In terms of experience, he is definitely number one in Kaer Morhen.

The same applies to snowball fights.

……

The sky turned blue again, and the ice and snow melted once more.

When Effensor saw visible cracks appearing in the frozen lake in the distance from his balcony, he knew that spring was coming.

The snow-capped mountains fade, birds return to the forest, and all things revive.

Winter's traces have quietly faded away, and by the time you realize winter is about to end, early spring has probably already arrived.

It was another sunny afternoon, and the weather was no longer so cold. Effensor sat on a chair on the balcony, engrossed in reading a book.

With her concerns about Cohen gone, Effensor no longer kept things to herself and shared information about her left hand with the others in the castle.

He also tried to teach the improved signs to others, but no one could fully learn them. These improved signs were essentially no different from magic, and ordinary witchers, lacking magical affinity, naturally could not use them.

Geralt, however, seemed to be an exception. Although he couldn't use Reverse Aard or the Yarden Chains, he successfully enhanced the power of his own Signs. Despite being unable to become a spellcaster, Geralt seemed to possess a certain innate magical affinity.

To help Effensor continue his research, Cohen wrote down everything he could remember and gave it to Effensor. As for the things he couldn't recall, he would gradually remember them when Effensor discussed them with him, bringing up specific questions.

At this moment, in Effensor's eyes, what he held in his hands was not a hastily written book, but a supreme treasure.

The Griffin School's research on the signs naturally far surpassed that of Effensor. This book provided Effensor with crucial inspiration and saved him a great deal of time, eliminating countless unfeasible options.

But most importantly, it contains systematic magical knowledge.

From the initial fire spell to the complete mastery of the fire element, Cohen explained everything in detail, and Effensor now fully understood how Effensor became a powerful sorcerer step by step.

Of course, it's only the fire element. Cohen had memorized all of this with great effort, carrying his childhood dream—he had also fantasized about becoming a warlock by chance in the future, so he kept this knowledge in mind so as not to miss the opportunity.

Effensor shared the same dream.

Effinso can still recall the joy and excitement he felt when he first cast the Mark of Aard as a sorcerer.

However, his ambition burned like wildfire. At first, he was content with just experiencing the wonders of magic, but now he was no longer satisfied with that. He wanted to become a truly powerful sorcerer and control the power of magic.

This goal is not unattainable; Effensor is making progress little by little...

"ha!"

On the city wall, Ciri continued her tireless training, leaping from small wooden stakes to dodge the large, swaying stakes that came crashing down on her.

She seems to never get tired, training like a madwoman every day.

In comparison, she wasn't as enthusiastic about books.

Because Kaer Morhen had Effensor, a book lover, Vesemir naturally entrusted him with Ciri's theoretical studies. Furthermore, when Vesemir was away, Effensor was responsible for all of Ciri's lessons.

What troubled Effensor was that even if he went to the restroom or left for a moment for other reasons, Ciri would always disappear. If he went to the training ground at that time, he would definitely find her.

After calculating the time, Effensor closed the book, picked up the thick copy of "Ghouls and Demons" from the floor, and went downstairs.

Bringing Ciri from the training field indoors is a necessary preparation before each day's class.

The main building of the castle was deserted and no longer as lively as before.

As soon as the snow melted, Geralt was the first to rush off to Vizima to find Triss.

Finding a suitable female guardian for Ciri is now urgent, especially after Effensor unexpectedly discovered that Ciri has entered her menstrual period.

He had intended to write a letter... but Triss moved after Sodden, and Geralt only knew that she was now living in Vizima.

Cohen was the second to leave, heading towards Lyria. The Nilfgaardians had returned, confronting the Northern Kingdoms across the river in Lyria and Lyria, with small-scale skirmishes occurring frequently. Having heard of the carnage in Cintra, Cohen didn't hesitate to head to the next potential battleground. He wanted to do something good, however small.

He said he would return to Kaer Morhen at the end of the year. After meeting up with Afnsor there, they could travel to the Kaer Sirens in the summer.

Escal and Lambert left together yesterday. They had no particular purpose and, as in previous years, were simply traveling around the continent.

So now only Vesemir, who is in charge of education, and Effinso, who is obsessed with magical research, remain in the castle.

"Squeak..."

The castle gates were pushed open forcefully by Effensor.

A cool spring breeze blew by, lifting his white hair.

The wind howled, rushing wildly into the main building of the castle, making Effensor's clothes flutter and causing the pages of paper covered with writing on the table to fly everywhere.

In the howling spring wind, this land, both ignorant and wondrous, bloody and magnificent, ushered in a new year—1265.

The times are roaring, and the Black Legion across the Yaruga River is ready to go. This vast empire, rising like a new star, is determined to conquer everything in sight.

Humanity calls out, and a steadfast knight successfully raises an army in Aden, composed of exiles driven by hatred, who fight to the very end for their homeland.

In a remote corner of the world, in Kaer Morhen, a place forgotten by the world, a finger turns a page of a book.

He stared at the words Cohen had written, and after a moment, a questioning voice rang out.

"Does the mind triumph over material things?"