Chapter 131: 131. The Child of Destiny and the Child of Miracles.
Many years later, if they had to choose the most embarrassing, painful, and unforgettable moment in their lives, the masters of the School of the Wolf, including Vesemir, would all have something to say.
"What... what are you doing?"
The cold female voice wasn't particularly loud, but it completely drowned out the noisy croaking of frogs.
In the moment that question was asked, the shores of the Killer Lake fell into dead silence.
"Chirp chirp~"
The birds in the sky landed on the trees, curiously watching the scene unfold.
Embarrassing!
This was truly... too embarrassing!
Just a moment ago, while everyone was practicing the Ice Spear Spell, it felt like just another normal sign. After all, everyone was practicing, and the "croaking" even seemed mysterious. But the moment an outsider sincerely asked about it, it was as if their clothes had been stripped off, leaving them utterly mortified. To make matters worse, the person asking was a highly respected female sorceress. And that sorceress had a very wide network...
"What's going on?"
The Chief also stepped out of the portal. He looked up to see the masters of the School of the Wolf standing there like statues, completely still.
"Phew~"
"We... we were just practicing the Ice Spear Spell."
The old Witcher with white hair, Whitelock, let out a long breath, stepping forward to give a stiff reply. It wasn't clear whether he was answering the sorceress's question or the Chief's.
The Chief was taken aback for a moment, then rubbed the short beard on his chin, a smile gradually appearing on his face. Clearly, as the Chief of the School of the Wolf, he was not only very powerful but also had a vivid imagination.
The sorceress, on the other hand, acted as if she hadn't heard anything unusual and asked curiously, "Oh, is it that spell created by Allen?"
"Can you show me?"
The Witcher masters looked at each other, relieved, and then all turned their eyes to Vesemir. After all, he was the only one here who could actually use this sign. Vesemir, with no other choice, opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally channeling his magic power.
"Croak~ Croak croak~ Croak croak croak..."
The deep and clear chanting, accompanied by the birdsong in the trees, sounded particularly strange. Especially for Vesemir...
Soon, the chanting stopped.
A "small" ice spear appeared once again in Vesemir's hand. He then quickly launched it, piercing the birch tree again. The sorceress nodded slightly, glanced at the other Witcher masters, and suddenly said, seemingly to herself: "Whether it's a sign or a spell, chanting is meant to attract elements, assisting in their arrangement..."
"So what's important isn't the pronunciation but the melody..."
The Witcher masters were stunned for a moment, and then, realizing that she was giving them a hint, stared in disbelief for a few seconds. The Bloody Red Fox, famous among sorceresses for her short temper and impatience, who was even reluctant to teach her own apprentices, was actually teaching these Witchers how to cast a spell?
In the blink of an eye, the Witcher masters sneaked a glance at the Chief not far away. It seemed the Chief had indeed made peace with Lady Vera!
After thanking the sorceress gratefully, they all started asking their own questions. Soon, the shores of the Killer Lake were once again filled with the sound of croaking. But this time, the croaks were much more rhythmic.
As the sorceress finished giving her instructions and walked over to the Chief, he said gently,"Vera, thank you for being willing to..."
The sorceress, with an expressionless face, waved her hand and interrupted him, "Don't flatter yourself. I didn't help them because of you."
The Chief shook his head helplessly and, after hesitating for a while, glanced at the Witcher masters by the lake before looking back at the sorceress.
"Snap~"
With a snap of his fingers, a faint red soundproof barrier rose.
"Go ahead, what is it?" Vera asked directly.
The Chief slowly walked to the sorceress's side, carefully choosing his words, "Vera, the Child of Miracles was reborn from death a long time ago..."
"The prophecy was correct, and what we did back then was also right, so why can't we reconcile?"
"So many years have passed. I haven't found another woman, and you've remained pure as well. Surely you still have feelings for me..."
As the Witcher's tone grew more and more intense, his emotions becoming so fiery that they seemed to burn her, the sorceress took a step back, feeling uncomfortable. That step also interrupted the Witcher's heartfelt confession. He looked at Vera with disappointment, then lifted his gaze to the distant peak of the Blue Mountains.
That place was rarely touched by human feet, and its snow never melted, just like the heart of the person in front of him. A heart he could never understand, and could never get close to.
Sometimes he even doubted...
Whether those beautiful times spent with her in the distant past were just a dream during the blood-soaked, exhausting hunts. The sorceress understood the Witcher's thoughts. She took advantage of the moment when his gaze was still on the distant mountains to stare at him for a few seconds.
Her expression then returned to its usual indifference, as if the previous gaze had been just an illusion.
"When you manage to pass this test, we'll talk..."
The Witcher abruptly looked down, asking in disbelief, "Vera... what did you just say?"
The sorceress sighed, looking at the foolishly hopeful smile on the Witcher's face, and, instead of repeating herself, said warmly, "Sol? Henrietta, if you can break the fate of the Old Sea Fortress, then what harm is there in me agreeing to you..."
"If not..."
"On the day Kaer Morhen falls, whether? Or Allen agrees or not, I will take him away."
The Witcher wasn't saddened by the sorceress's indirect refusal. Instead, he made a joke:"Aren't you planning on taking me with you?"
"Would you come with us?" the sorceress retorted.
Seeing the serious expression on the sorceress's face, the Witcher paused for a moment, feeling a warmth in his heart. Then he let out a long sigh, choosing not to answer the question.
The sorceress also said nothing more. She knew that if that day really came, He would only swing his silver and steel swords, shouting for glory, and gladly embrace death. That was just the kind of fool he was.
As the eldest son of a noble family, he was easily persuaded to abandon his title and throw himself into a life of endless pain and fighting. Even though the Witchers were already falling apart, he still clung to his principles, dreaming of restoring the path of honor. He even believed that all of this was destiny. That he was the Child of Destiny, and as long as destiny didn't allow him to perish, he would never die.
Nearly everyone in the School of the Wolf was like that.
Naive and childlike.
The sorceress had seen through it all these past few days. How could a Witcher who so devoutly believed in destiny really want to break it?
The only one who truly wanted to break destiny was Allen, who made the prophecy. Everyone else, though they said they wanted to find a way, to look for a solution, Were really just going with the flow. But then again, How could a mere fifty or so Witchers in Kaer Morhen stand against the mighty Kaedwen, the ruler of tens of thousands of soldiers, and Ban Ard Academy, which had over a hundred mages?
As she thought about it, the sorceress wanted to persuade Allen right now to leave this hopeless place and take him far away.
If Kaedwen couldn't accommodate them, they could go to Temeria or Redania, and if that didn't work, there was always Skellige and Nilfgaard.
Yes!
They could go to Nilfgaard, return to Toussaint, that place was perfect for Allen...
"Vera..."
The sorceress frowned, and when she heard the voice, she looked up from her thoughts and was suddenly stunned. It wasn't even noon yet, But a group of figures was descending the snow-covered mountain on foot.
...…
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132. The Acting Chief of the Wolf School.
133. Messenger Bird.
134. My Little Boy Has Grown Up.
135. Descending the Mountain.
136. Even if the Price is the Life of a Trainee.
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