บท 159: 160. A New Beginning.
"Allen, Hughes, Bond, Fred..."
Worried voices called out.
The next moment, a figure wielding a steel sword jumped in from the darkness outside the window. It was Vesemir.
As Vesemir jumped into the room, his eyes immediately fell on Allen, who was standing there in a daze, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness Allen is okay."
Then his gaze shifted downward, sweeping over the severed head and the half-torso on the ground. Vesemir suddenly froze, his expression changing drastically. The dragged bloodstains, the pale and bloodied face, the powerless lying posture...
"Bond is seriously injured!"
In a flash, the anxious and worried witcher master appeared beside the three of them. He carefully lifted Bond's forearm, but the hand wrapped in burlap hung limply. The witcher master's heart sank.
He gently unwrapped the burlap, revealing the gruesomely torn flesh. Blood slowly started to ooze from the wound. The assailant who made the wound had excellent swordsmanship, cleverly avoiding the arteries but cutting all the tendons and nerves in Bond's hand. This... this kind of injury...
"Master Vesemir, I can't seem to feel my hands and feet. Does this mean... does this mean I'll never be able to hold a sword again?"
Bond, with a tearful face, spoke with a voice filled with carefulness, fear, and hope, causing the others around to lower their heads in pity. They were all swordsmen. Even though they didn't take on assassination contracts like the Cat School, the structure of the human body was still a required subject for them.
Only by understanding the weaknesses in their own bodies could they better protect themselves in battle. So, including Bond himself, they all knew what this kind of injury meant. It wasn't just that Bond wouldn't be able to hold a sword again; even walking normally would be a problem.
Hughes and Fred, who had been avoiding Bond's gaze since earlier, now had tears welling up in their eyes as they heard this. Seven years of nerve-wracking "decisions," one week of excruciating life-and-death struggle, the Grass and Dream Trials...
They had barely made it, stepping over the mountain of their comrades' corpses, becoming qualified, free witchers. And now, not because of a monster, but because of a cruel and despicable "fellow," Bond's witcher career was prematurely ended.
"Those damned Cat School bastards!"
Vesemir cursed through gritted teeth, then, with some sadness and guilt, he gazed at Bond and said: "I'm sorry, I didn't get here in time."
"Allen has already avenged me," Bond interrupted Vesemir's self-blame, then gratefully glanced at Allen, who looked reluctant.
From Vesemir's expression after the examination, Bond already knew...
His identity as a witcher had ended today. With his hopes dashed, Bond instead comforted his companions:
"If it weren't for you arriving in time, I might have already died. At least now I still have my life, so I'm already lucky."
"As for you, Master Vesemir, we all heard the intense fighting from your room. This isn't your fault..."
"Master Vesemir, is there really no way to save Bond?" Allen couldn't help but ask, "I heard from Lady Vera that the dryads in Brokilon Forest have very advanced healing abilities."
He remembered in the original story that Geralt had severe fractures in his ribs, knees, and head from Vilgefortz, but he eventually recovered with the help of the dryads and the magical waters of Brokilon. There's no reason Bond's "minor" injuries can't be treated.
Bond's eyes immediately lit up with hope at Allen's words.
"Yes, Master Vesemir, we could take Bond to find those dryads?"
Hughes and Fred also became excited, looking expectantly at Vesemir.
Vesemir's face darkened, and he shook his head with a sigh: "Indeed, as Allen said, the dryads of Brokilon might really be able to heal Bond's injuries."
"But..."
"But the dryads are not friendly towards witchers right now."
"Some of our more radical peers accepted a commission from the King of Brugge a few years ago to hunt dryads near Brokilon Forest..."
"They would never help us treat Bond..."
Allen's face darkened upon hearing this. Damn it, no wonder Vesemir looked like there was no way out. So there really was a problem with the dryads.
Some peers hunting dryads?
Those already extreme intelligent beings likely hold an attitude toward witchers that's more than just unfriendly. If they brought Bond there, they might not even make it deep into the forest before lethal arrows were shot from the shadows.
"Is there really no way to treat Bond's injuries?"
Allen looked at Bond's pale, youthful face, and a sense of helplessness welled up in his heart.
"Wait a minute..."
Vesemir suddenly seemed to think of something, giving Allen a strange look.
"There might actually be hope."
"What hope?" Allen didn't care about Vesemir's odd expression; he quickly asked.
The witcher master pondered his words and said: "Lady Vera is a master alchemist. I remember she can concoct a potion that might help Bond..."
As he spoke, his gaze suddenly fell on the exquisite hilt of Elsa on Allen's back, recalling the exorbitant price of that potion. Even if the situation was sudden and understandable, Vesemir, as the representative of the Wolf School participating in the tournament, couldn't escape responsibility. So, most of the cost for purchasing the potion for an apprentice would likely come out of his pocket.
Thinking of this, Vesemir paused, feeling a bit pained as he said: "I can negotiate with the school to cover the cost of the potion."
"But persuading Lady Vera to help... that will be up to you, Allen."
That's right!
How could I forget Lady Vera?
Allen scratched his head in frustration.
But...
Is Lady Vera really that scary?
Allen glanced curiously at Vesemir, whose expression suddenly looked like he was ill, but didn't think too much about it, and seriously nodded.
"Don't worry, I'll ask Lady Vera for help right away."
With that, he took out a crystal-clear bird from his pocket, ready to send a message through it to ask Mary to request Lady Vera to prepare the potion. But he suddenly realized that he didn't know the name of the potion, so he asked: "By the way, what's the name of the potion? I'll send a message through the magical artifact to Mary."
"Verdant Sigh."
Vesemir remembered the name of the potion clearly because the chief said it was worth a sword like Elsa on the black market.
Verdant Sigh?
That name sounds nice.
Allen thought.
Then he transmitted the message into the crystal bird and walked to the windowsill to release it. As he watched the crystal bird flutter its clear wings, flying into the dark night, Vesemir's voice suddenly came to his ears.
"Actually, you all have already drunk this potion before."
Allen turned around in surprise.
"We've all drunk it?"
Hughes and Fred exchanged glances and then spoke in unison.
Knowing that Bond had a chance to recover, Vesemir also breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, nodding as he said, "It was the green potion that Lady Vera gave you all when we returned to Kaer Morhen through the portal after the Mountain Trial."
"Huh?"
While the other apprentices were trying to recall, Allen suddenly exclaimed. He quickly opened his reagent pouch on his waist and pulled out a beautifully decorated, obviously very expensive crystal bottle from the corner.
"Master Vesemir, is this potion you're talking about the 'Verdant Sigh'?"
Allen shook the crystal bottle. The green liquid swirled inside the bottle, shimmering with a life-giving glow like that of an Verdant. Looking closely, it was as if one could see a lush forest within.
"Yes... yes... that's it," Vesemir stammered after carefully inspecting it, "How do you have this potion?"
"Lady Vera gave it to me."
Allen pulled out two more identical bottles of "Verdant Sigh" from his pouch. "I have two more in my reagent pouch. Is there something wrong?"
These potions were given to him by the sorceress on the day they discovered the mysterious Cairn when she asked him to practice the mist-forming skill with the magical tool, the "Foglet's Arm Bone."
However, out of habitual frugality, he hadn't used them during practice. So, these three potions had been lying in the deepest part of his reagent pouch, and if Vesemir hadn't mentioned them, Allen would have almost forgotten about them.
Hearing Allen's words, Vesemir's mouth slightly opened, speechless. He looked at the young witcher apprentice, wanting to ask Allen if he even knew what he had. That "Verdant Sigh," casually placed in his reagent pouch along with other ordinary items, was worth as much as a 17,325 Orens an Elven sword.
In other words, Allen had been carrying a fortune worth four Elven swords every day, right under Vesemir's nose.
"But Master Vesemir, isn't this potion only supposed to alleviate the dizziness caused by passing through the portal?"
"Are you sure it can help with Bond's injury?"
Allen asked, puzzled.
As soon as he finished speaking, a long, silent pause descended upon the narrow, blood-scented room, leaving the four young witchers confused.
Vesemir sighed with a despondent expression. Looking at the innocent young witchers, he suddenly didn't feel like explaining anything.
It's ridiculous!
While he was still working hard to earn a second Elven sword by taking contracts and raising kids, Allen, the favored child of fate, had been using a high-grade potion worth a whole Elven sword—one that could delay aging and extend life—just to alleviate the side effects of portal travel!
A wave of powerlessness suddenly washed over him. Vesemir sighed again, waved his hand dismissively, and said, "Try it; it should work."
The "Verdant Sigh" could heal the old injuries accumulated by witchers over the years, so it should be able to heal Bond's wounds.
Not understanding why Vesemir's mood had changed so quickly, Allen handed the "Verdant Sigh" to Fred.
Pop!
Gulp, gulp!
After Fred administered the potion to Bond, the surrounding witchers gathered around, eagerly watching Bond closely. Soon, a minute passed. The witchers exchanged confused glances; Bond's face seemed to have become a bit rosier, but when he tried to move his wrist, there was no reaction. The light of hope in everyone's eyes gradually dimmed.
The young witchers instinctively looked at Vesemir, making the witcher master feel uneasy and doubtful that the "Verdant Sigh" might really be ineffective.
"Ah!"
Bond suddenly screamed in pain, his back arching. Seeing the young witcher's suffering, Vesemir, instead of being worried, brightened up, his eyes sparkling. No matter how painful it was, any reaction was better than none.
All the witchers had consumed the "Verdant Sigh" before, but they hadn't had such a strong reaction.
"Quick! Hold Bond down!"
Vesemir shouted, and the young witchers hurriedly pressed down on him.
Rustle!
The blood-soaked leather armor scraped against the ground as Bond's growls and the sound of grinding teeth filled the room. Seeing this, Vesemir quickly picked up a piece of bloody cloth and stuffed it into Bond's mouth to prevent him from biting off his own tongue.
Soon after.
Slap!
Fred was suddenly slapped hard across the face. He froze for a moment, staring at the hand struggling in mid-air before bursting into laughter.
"Hahaha... it's working! Allen... Bond! It's working!"
A sincere smile appeared on everyone's faces as they pressed Bond's body down with renewed vigor. About ten minutes later.
The young witcher stopped struggling, beads of sweat dripping from everyone's foreheads, mixing with the dried blood on the ground.
"Bond, how do you feel?"
They all let go of the young witcher's body in unison, watching eagerly as Bond stood up, stretched, and unwrapped the rough cloth bindings on his limbs. The hideous, gaping wounds had now healed, leaving only a faint, long white scar.
"I feel great."
Bond took a deep breath, baring his gleaming teeth in a smile at Allen and the others before picking up the steel sword on the ground and swiftly twirling it.
Whoosh!
The blade sliced through the air with a whooshing sound. Bond, like a drowning man who had suddenly breathed in air, became engrossed in the humming of the sword as it swung, taking a while before finally stopping. As soon as he turned to look at his fellow witchers, his gaze landed on Allen first.
But strangely, he didn't say anything. He stared at Allen for a few seconds before nodding at his companions and excitedly shouting, "I can hunt monsters like a witcher again!"
As soon as he said that, Allen's body subtly tensed up. A familiar, cold mechanical voice rang in his ears.
[Ding! Bond's loyalty has increased to 100 (Dead Loyal) (+4)]
[Ding! Your Corps Skill: Resonance LV1 has been upgraded to Resonance LV2]
This was an unexpected surprise!
Allen looked at Bond.
Bond was softly comforting Fred and Hughes, who were still shaken by his ordeal, his right hand tightly gripping the ordinary steel sword as if holding onto his very life.
"Master Vesemir? Are you all okay?"
The voice of the innkeeper, Bob, came from the door, interrupting their conversation.
"We're fine."
Vesemir replied, then looked at the chaotic scene before him, sighed, and continued, "Go wait for me downstairs; I'll be down in a moment."
"Alright, Master Vesemir."
Bob responded with relief, and his footsteps quietly retreated. Allen followed Vesemir's gaze to the bodies on the floor. The two Cat School witchers he had knocked out suddenly flashed through his mind.
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
161. The Rage of Being Fooled.
162. A Bountiful Harvest.
163. Too Weak!
164. Even if He is the King of a Nation!
165. The Woman in the Camp.
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