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[PR: Ash]

“You possess the Elder Blood!” the mirror images declared, their voices shaking the dim chamber.

Lydia froze and stared at the deadpan witcher in awe. Her master spent ten years just to get his hands on the coveted bloodline, and the witcher had it.

“You possess the power of Elder Blood.” The mirror images looked at Roy and brought up a certain past action of his. “And you’re friends with Geralt and Ciri. You went against Rience to keep her safe. That means you’ve lent your assistance to Cintra before. Through your powers of clairvoyance, you told them of Nilfgaard’s invasion. You’re the reason Cintra’s king launched a large-scale persecution of spies, asked Temeria for help, requested for Skellige’s druids to clear the storms, and set up an ambush in Marnadal. You’re the one who slaughtered Nilfgaard’s sorcerers in Marnadal. You’re the one who ambushed Menno in the Battle of Cintra. You’re the one who almost ruined my plans.”

Vilgefortz’s eyes were flaring brightly.

Roy took a deep breath, the hand behind his back shaking slightly. He figured out all my actions just from the scarce info Lydia fed him. As smart as I expected. Roy shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I cannot see through your mind nor your destiny. That kind of mind concealment is a hallmark ability of the Elder Blood. You cannot deny it. This is a miracle,” Vilgefortz gushed. “All the tomes and books I scoured were adamant that the Elder Blood only flowed through the veins of Calanthe’s bloodline.

Roy interrupted, “Then why didn’t you go for Calanthe or Pavetta? Why’d you set your sights on Ciri?”

The witcher had always wanted to know the answer to that. If Calanthe, Pavetta, and Ciri all had the Elder Blood, there was no reason for Vilgefortz to go for Ciri and let Duny marry Pavetta instead.

***

“Simple. Calanthe and Pavetta do not have as strong a bloodline as Ciri. Ciri’s blood must’ve gone through the atavism process, granting it more power. And she is at a ripe age now. Her firstborn will inherit the purest form of the Elder Blood, and that’s what I am going after.”

A chill ran down Roy’s spine.

Vilgefortz continued, “But you. You’re a witcher unrelated to Calanthe or her bloodline. Yet you managed to get your hands on the Elder Blood. How did you do it?” Vilgefortz had an almost manic look on his face, desiring nothing more than Roy’s answer. “Tell me, and I shall give you anything your heart desires, be it status, coin, women, power…”

Roy smiled. A certain entity tried to make the same offer before, and in the end, Roy put him under a self-imposed exile for ten years. “Child of the Sun. That’s what happened. That’s the truth.”

“Do not test my patience, witcher.” Vilgefortz slowly stepped ahead, spinning his staff around deftly, preparing for battle. “If you wish to protect Ciri, then you will tell me how you gained the Elder Blood. And I shall lay my hands off her. There is an insurmountable difference between our abilities. If we do battle, you will not come out alive,” said Vilgefortz arrogantly. “Lend your assistance. Work with me, and once I gain the Elder Blood, this world shall be our oyster. And not just this world. We can go on a journey to the worlds beyond together.” Vilgefortz grinned brightly. “Can you feel it? The strongest witcher and the strongest sorcerer journeying together? What a sight it will be.”

Roy looked at the sorcerer with wariness and contempt. “Sorry, but I refuse.”

“I sense contempt in your eyes. Did you find the secret lab of this castle?”

Roy said nothing, but that was as good an answer as it was for Vilgefortz. The sorcerer circled around Roy and patiently persuaded, “Roy, people are divided into different castes since the day they were born. Those who have power not only have control over their destiny; they have control over everyone else’s as well. That’s the undisputed truth. The women in my lab are weak, and many of them have died, but their sacrifice told me something important, and through them, I gleaned the method to extract the Elder Blood. They died for something noble.” Vilgefortz sounded so matter-of-fact.

“You have the Elder Blood flowing within you. Do not let mercy or emotions sway your will.”

“You make a persuasive argument.” Roy nodded and shook his head. “But you are missing one important element.”

“Which is?” The mirror images cocked their eyebrows and leaned ahead, ready to listen.

“Humanity.” Roy looked at the image on the left, and he clenched his fists. “You think of yourself as a god, Vilgefortz, but what makes you think you have the right to dictate the lives of innocent souls? You captured innocent women and forced them to bear children, putting them through torture just to prove your sick theory correct? You’re out of your mind.”

Vilgefortz wasn’t angry. Instead, he smiled, though sardonically. “Am I hearing this right? A vagabond witcher talking about humanity with me? A sorcerer and a member of the brotherhood? Why, you have a noble soul, but don’t you see? After that fiasco in Novigrad, you should know that those peasants care nothing about humanity. Talk sense to them all you want, and all you get in return is nothing but fear, prejudice, and curses. In that case, you should prove their fears right and destroy them. Humanity? That’s an excuse for those too weak to seek power.”

Vilgefortz’s mirror images surrounded Roy. “Do not let humanity bind you, Roy. This life is a game of chess, and you’re a player, not a pawn. Give the game your all. Do not let anything sway you.” The mirror images were dangerously close. One more step and they would be crossing the line. They were extending their hands to Roy. “Join me, and we shall create an empire. Do not worry, you’re no virgin, nor are you a woman. You cannot be impregnated. My theory will not work on you, and by extension, I won’t hurt you.”

***

Roy covered his face and took a deep breath. “Very tempting offer, Vilgefortz.” He didn’t bother hiding his hesitation. If he’d run into Vilgefortz instead of Letho when he first came to this world, the arrogant sorcerer might have taken him down a completely different path than he’d chosen, but destiny had made its choice for Roy.

“But I refuse.”

“Why?”

“Because I have friends, family, and those I love. Love is the foundation of humanity, and you ask for me to relinquish it. If I do that, I may cross the point of no return,” Roy said, struggling with himself.

“I see. You’re still young. Still lacking in experience. You are yet blind to the truth.” The mirror images stared at Roy. Imperiously, he said, “You require a mentor, and I can take that role.”

The witcher and the sorcerer locked eyes. One had a soul filled with desire and ambition, the other filled with fighting spirit. A gale howled within the castle, the fire in the hearth crackling along. A blob of crimson silhouette was projected onto the wall, and it was dancing.

Then, a gigantic octopus leapt from beneath the witcher, flailing its infinite tentacles around. The mirror images around Roy remained confident and collected.

Then the tentacles wrapped them up, and something tore through the air. A crimson flash arced across the chamber and split the mirror images in two, but not a drop of blood was drawn. The images shattered and disappeared, melding into air like popped bubbles.

They’re all mirror images. Roy’s heart sank, and he quickly covered himself with magical barriers. The kaleidoscopic circle of Yrden shone underneath him, and the witcher held his blade tightly, scanning the chamber as hard as he could.

The walls, the hearth, the candelabra, the settee, the table, and Lydia. He checked everything, but Vilgefortz was nowhere to be found.

“As obstinate as ever, Roy.” Vilgefortz mocking voice assailed Roy from all directions, as if he had countless mirror images talking to him everywhere. “Do you really think you can kill me just because you managed to kill Rience and the elven sorcerers? You are on my turf. I have the home advantage, but I’m generous. I’ll make you realize the gap between us. Why don’t you show me how much of your bloodline’s strength you’ve awakened?”

The boom of thunder roared across the air, and blinding flashes of light illuminated the chamber, arcing through the air like electric snakes. The settee was sent flying to the wall like a capsized boat. Lydia was buried underneath, and she grunted before she went completely silent.

Roy’s magical barriers were shattered in an instant, but before the magical attack could completely numb him, he fired off a shot.

The bolt hurtled through the air, and sparks flew as a steel staff hit it. The staff only appeared for a split second, but it managed to deflect the bolt.

At the same time, Roy disappeared from the center of the explosion and reappeared at the staircase, tendrils of smoke billowing from him. He stood like a bow that was pulled, Aerondight held to his side like an arrow poised to shoot.

The witcher held his blade against a vague silhouette at the staircase. Crimson halos swirled behind him, and like a bloody boa constrictor, the crimson light slithered up the blade.

Vilgefortz was standing a few yards away. In his right hand was his staff, and he made a simple gesture with his left hand. Flames roared forth, and mana howled. Hellfire exploded before the witcher, and the dragon made of flames engulfed him.

The explosion shook the chamber, and debris rained from the ceiling. The witcher hurtled across the air as though he was hit by a siege weapon squarely in the chest. He crashed into the wall, and cracks spread across the granite. The painting of ‘First Landing’ fell to the ground, clinking.

The rancid stench of smoke permeated the air, and the witcher fell to the ground, spewing blood. His limbs were trembling, his skin charred and red. White smoke hissed upon the witcher’s flesh, as if he were cooked over open fire.

His HP was reduced by a staggering two-third of its original value, but at least he found Vilgefortz’s real body.

He looked at the sorcerer and left a gem marking on him.

The silhouette at the staircase shook his head, holding a lightning ball in his left hand. “I told you, Roy. I know all about you, but you know nothing of my power. For more than thirty years, I have not met my equal in this land. There’s a reason I’m bored of this place. I have mastered three hundred and thirty-five spells, and I can kill you in more than ten thousand ways. I can make your life a living hell. You could’ve just worked with me, but you had to be difficult.”

Roy grunted and jerked away before the lightning ball could hit him. The ball slammed into the wall behind Roy, and an arc of electricity touched his armor. He trembled.

Activate. A wave of warmth gushed through his veins, healing Roy and returning his charred skin to its earlier state.

Vilgefortz clicked his tongue.

Roy quickly made the Sign of Clamp, and his mirror image jumped out of the magical stream, defending him.

Before the mirror image could take the crossbow, however, the air boomed, and the ground shook. Vilgefortz fired off multiple spells, and the elements spun and spun, eventually forming a chromatic torrent of magic.

The torrent swallowed Roy’s mirror image and shattered it to pieces, but then a great silhouette appeared and took the torrent head on.

The black dragon tore the attack to pieces, and it lashed its tail around, destroying the pillars holding the ceiling up. The ground was upturned and shattered like it was tilled by a gigantic hoe.

As the dragon flapped its wings, furniture, decor, and even the chandelier fell. Dust and debris flew in all directions, and the dragon opened its maw.

The witcher charged ahead with his blade in hand. His hair was burned, his face covered in blisters and black veins. His eyes were firmly locked upon the sorcerer standing near the staircase, his ivory blade humming shrilly, ready for battle.

The witcher took a deep breath.

“Fus!”

Ripples spread across the air. The beams cracked, the walls trembled, the window and glass objects shattered into pieces.

The Shout hit Vilgefortz, or it seemed to be the case. His smile faded, and for a moment, he was dazed.

That split second was enough for the dragon. It was already inches away from him.

Fear. The witcher’s eyes were dyed crimson, and a bloody sea raged in the air. Mountainous tentacles burst from the surface, and following those, a terrifying octopus came forth.

The air was filled with viscous blood as the octopus wrapped Vilgefortz up, compressing him bit by bit.

The dragon smashed a hole through the staircase, and Roy stabbed his blade through the tentacles and pinned Vilgefortz on the stairs behind him. He whipped out Gwyhyr and swung it. A crimson arc of light charged from its edge, illuminating the chamber in red.

The cocoon was split apart, and a great gash was left upon the stairs, but Roy was not delighted at all. His heart sank deeper and deeper. There was no indication that he killed Vilgefortz, and the marking he left on the sorcerer disappeared.

He crouched and tried to roll away, but then a great wave of mana slammed down on him, keeping him pinned.

Pale, rotten hands appeared everywhere around him. Howls from beyond the grave filled the air as the hands grasped Roy’s legs.

Roy felt a gust of wind coming from behind, and he exerted every ounce of his strength to move away, yet the staff hit him nonetheless. A stab of pain seared from his right cheek, and he fell to the stairs. His nose broke, and his mind was buzzing.

The witcher slid down. Vilgefortz stood behind him, apparently appearing out of nowhere. He was swinging his metal staff with incredible dexterity, hitting Roy four times.

Sounds of bones broken echoed across the chamber. The sorcerer broke all of Roy’s limbs, and he flipped his hand, turning Roy around with a wave of invisible magical power.

Roy lay limply, his face red, then purple, then green. The witcher breathed heavily, as if he were suffocating even though there was air all around him.

“Roy, my friend.” Vilgefortz crossed his arms, looking down at Roy with pity. “That is all you have? Too little, I’m afraid. You’re far too green in combat. You failed to discern where the real me was, though I must admit that my spells are far better than what anyone can conjure.”

He spoke with concern, as if he were just trying to teach a rowdy protégé a lesson. “Have you had enough? Do you realize how foolish you’ve been? I do admire you, I must admit. Your vision, your bloodline, and your fighting prowess for someone your age. They are all top notch. You’re as powerful as I was when I was your age. It’s like seeing another me, but alas, my patience is limited. If you refuse to work with me, then you will lose your privilege as a partner. I shall take you as an experimental subject.”

Roy glared at the sorcerer, and he transported a Forgotten Acorn from his inventory straight into his mouth, then he gulped furtively.

The moment the acorn slid into his belly, a wave of life force enveloped the witcher. His character sheet shone a bright green.

‘You have ingested a Forgotten Acorn. Your Constitution has exceeded 25 points. You are immune to the acorn’s poison. You now gain 5 points for Constitution.

Constitution: 25 → 30

HP: 100/330 → 380/380

Mana: 200/310 → 310/310

You are completely healed.’

***

Roy balled his fists and looked at Vilgefortz with murder in his eyes. And then a group of towering silhouettes came falling from the skies as they responded to Roy’s summon.