Within the memories of Tomas Moreau, Allen could not feel the passage of time.
The turning of spring to autumn, the shift from cold to heat—all of it could only be inferred from the clothing worn by the "experimental subjects" he dragged back.
And the experiments were brutal.
One after another—vagrants, farmers, merchants, guards, soldiers, even knights and nobles—regardless of class, all were brought in like livestock awaiting slaughter.
Most ended in horrific ways under the backlash of genetic mutations: bleeding from all seven orifices, limbs splitting apart, flesh tearing itself apart in rejection. The most gruesome case ended with the subject becoming a writhing, grotesque ball of flesh, where limbs and head could no longer be distinguished.
Even Allen, a Witcher who had seen much of the world, felt his stomach turn violently, nearly vomiting.
Yet Tomas Moreau showed no trace of humanity. Coldly, he muttered: "I am conducting a great research. To give your life for it is your honor."
Then, with practiced ease, he tossed those still conscious and breathing into the breeding pens of Pale Widow giant centipedes, leaving them to be devoured alive.
At that moment, Allen knew Jerome had been right—his father Tomas Moreau truly was a madman.
And when Allen thought of Ban Ard's plans to establish a sorcerer's kingdom, or the nonhuman research laboratories run jointly by Drakenborg and Rissberg…
It became clear that most sorcerers—at least those who dabbled in "genetic mutation" or "superhuman" experiments—were just like Moreau: men who disregarded human life and used people as raw materials.
They weren't insane—not exactly. They simply no longer regarded themselves as the same species as ordinary humans. They saw themselves as a higher, superior lifeform.
But what Allen couldn't understand was this:
How did Tomas Moreau so easily, and without injury, capture so many people?
Ida Emean, when extracting the memory, had trimmed away much of the irrelevant material—his excursions to gather "materials," the heated quarrels and cold wars with Jerome Moreau. She left only what was pertinent to the study of Secondary Mutation.
After long stretches of dry, monotonous research, she would insert one of those father-son quarrels to break the tedium and keep Allen alert.
Indeed, compared to "The Sorcerer's Memories," which were nothing but endless lectures, research, and practice, Ida Emean's editing was infinitely better.
Still, even without seeing Moreau's trips outside, Allen caught a glimpse of the darker truth hidden beneath the polished veneer of the human elite—
That compared to monsters, humanity itself was its own eternal enemy.
Thinking of this, Allen was grateful that he had crossed into this world as a Witcher, and not as an ordinary man.
At least a Witcher could resist—against both monsters and fellow humans. But commoners, even knights and nobles, were nothing but consumables in this extraordinary world, discarded without a sound.
What a damned world!
Yet, because of this conveyor-belt stream of experimental subjects, the progress of Secondary Mutation advanced rapidly.
From the initial declaration captured in the megascope recordings, it took only two days before Moreau's mutterings and experiments had already gone beyond Allen's comprehension as a science student in his previous life.
So, without hesitation, Allen spent an experience orb to unlock Genetic Mutation Studies.
Not long after—
[Ding! Consumed 310 small experience orbs. Your skill Genetic Mutation Studies LV1 has increased to Genetic Mutation Studies LV4 (0/10000).]
In the span of a "single day," he had gained three levels, finally able to understand.
Roughly half a year later—
[Ding! Consumed 10 experience orbs. Your skill Genetic Mutation Studies LV4 has increased to Genetic Mutation Studies LV5 (0/20000).]
And five years later—
[Ding! Consumed 20 experience orbs. Your skill Genetic Mutation Studies LV5 has increased to Genetic Mutation Studies LV6 (0/50000).]
This became the first knowledge on Allen's character sheet to reach level six.
With this influx of knowledge, he now understood the genetic traits of most common monsters inside and out. He knew how to trigger their mutations, and the advantages and disadvantages of each evolutionary path.
Though Genetic Mutation Studies, like alchemy, did not provide ready-made "recipes" for combinations, once he reached LV6, mutation plans suitable for the Wolf School began to form naturally in his mind.
He could use beasts such as dogs, cats, wolves, and bears as a base, then mix in mutagenic material from Drowners, Alghouls, Foglets—indeed, nearly all non-large monsters—to create bioengineered weapons.
And these were just the first ideas. Given time, Allen was confident he could unravel the entire principle behind Witcher mutations.
The formulas Vesemir had spoken of, preserved in Kaer Morhen—those devised by Cosimo Malaspina and Alzur—Allen was certain he could restore them to practical use.
When the next generation of apprentices faced the Trial of the Grasses, he could adapt and refine the process according to the needs of the Witcher corps and the qualities of each apprentice, crafting tailor-made mutations.
By then, the research on Secondary Mutation was already near completion. Tomas Moreau soon lured Jerome Moreau to Toussaint under false pretenses.
There followed nearly ten more years of research and experimentation.
Jerome Moreau endured countless torments on that iron bed, each as brutal as the Trial of the Grasses. In the cages, living subjects died one after another—on average, one every two or three days.
In those ten years, the equivalent of an entire small town's population was consumed within that dark laboratory.
But as time went on, Moreau no longer returned from his excursions unscathed; he often bore wounds.
By then, Allen had grown numb even to the blood-soaked experiments. Yet at the same time, his confidence in curing Sol with Secondary Mutation only grew stronger.
For he discovered that Secondary Mutation was not merely the alteration of the flesh.
Tomas Moreau once employed forbidden necromancy to summon the spirits of dead test subjects. He found that mutation transformed body, mind, and even soul.
And Sol's wound was precisely of that nature—a dragon's dying curse, shattering his Legacy Vessel and leaving injuries to both body and soul spiraling out of control.
Vera had countless methods and potions to heal the body. But there was no potion in existence that could mend the soul.
This discovery made Allen even more focused.
Finally, in the twenty-third year, Jerome was drugged and rendered unconscious by Tomas Moreau, placed into the Iron Maiden, and completed his second mutation.
After nearly a month of experiments and testing, Allen never saw Jerome Moreau again in the laboratory.
Tomas Moreau also stopped going out to collect "test subjects." Instead, he locked himself inside the lab for nearly half a month. One day, he slumped weakly against the stone wall near the spyglass.
"Years of experiments, research, and effort—all in vain! I couldn't achieve the goal I set for myself."
-----------------------------------
"It seems my son will live his whole life only as a witcher. I've failed. It's time to abandon this place and go home to Lydia. Maybe… maybe she'll still be willing to take me back…"
"I'll leave the formulas and mutation inducers here, and let them slowly vanish—just like my dream of reclaiming my son."
Tomas Moreau collapsed to the ground in despair, declaring the experiment a failure.
Allen glanced around the blood-stained laboratory and let out a sigh of relief. "It's finally over…"
He had experienced processes like this before, but even with the Sorcerer's Memory, he had never gone through more than twenty years of continuous study. Even with the occasional interludes carefully arranged by Ida Emean, this had been exhausting both mentally and physically.
Exhaling slowly, Allen patiently listened to Tomas Moreau's muttering, waiting for the memory to end. But unexpectedly…
Tomas Moreau stopped recording with the spyglass, removed the memory crystal, and set it down on a red cushion—yet the memory did not end.
"Lydia… my Lydia should be at the Circle of the Maina Druids now…" He stiffly stood up, muttering endlessly to himself, "I must find her, I must find her, I must find her…"
And in the very next instant—
Before Allen could even react—
The world went black and white, and he found himself standing in a forest.
A female elf, wearing a silver ornament across her chest, was glaring at him angrily…
-----------------------------------
[Ding! Skill discovered: several clues to Ida Emean's Mind-Befuddling Spell.]
[Spend 786 experience orbs to unlock this skill?]
"Haaah—!"
Through the splitting headache of the system prompt, he snapped his eyes open and gasped for breath.
Before he could even recover from the terrifying scene he had just witnessed, a crowd had already surrounded him.
"How do you feel, Allen? Are you unwell?"
Vera was the first to step forward, worry flashing in her eyes as she looked at Allen's pale, fear-stricken face.
Aristoo, who came a step later, shut his already opened mouth again. His right hand stroked his beard restlessly, tugging out several black strands without even noticing.
"I… I'm fine, I'm fine…" Allen instinctively glanced toward Ida Emean.
Ida Emean, standing at the back of the group, quietly raised a finger to her lips.
"I'm fine," Allen withdrew his gaze, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, finally steadying the pounding in his chest. "Tomas Moreau's memory was too long. I'm just not used to it."
"That's normal," Ida Emean interjected, "Time was short, so I had to transmit all of Tomas Moreau's research on the second mutation in one burst."
That was a lie… Allen thought. She clearly had enough energy to filter, edit, and split it up…
"Nearly thirty years of memory is bound to be overwhelming, but it won't cause any lasting harm…" Ida Emean winked at him.
Allen spoke softly, "Truly, I'm fine. And I've completely mastered the second mutation."
"So…" Aristoo and Vesemir pushed forward, their eyes full of expectation.
"It's possible," Allen nodded. "Give me two days, and I'm confident I can do it."
"I knew it!" Vesemir laughed loudly, clapping Aristoo hard on the shoulder. "Aristoo, you can always trust Allen!"
Hearing Allen's assurance, Aristoo also looked visibly relieved, the corners of his mouth curling upward. "Two days. Two days should pass without further problems, right?"
Unintentionally, his eyes flicked toward Vera.
Vera, however, still looked suspiciously between Allen and Ida Emean. She couldn't shake the feeling that Allen's reaction upon waking wasn't just because of the memory's overwhelming length.
Hearing Aristo's implied question, she promised: "These next two days, I'll keep an eye on Sol at all times. Last night's accident won't happen again."
After that, the others asked a bit about Sol's second mutation, whether there was anything else they needed to prepare.
Allen thought for a moment, then, without refusing, casually listed a few common monster materials and let them busy themselves with it.
In truth, the most important ingredient for a second mutation was just one thing—the mutated giant centipede albumen. And behind Thomas Moreau's laboratory, there were already five or six such centipedes. The rest of the materials could easily be substituted with similar and far more common ones.
Still, it was better to give Vesemir and Aristo something to do—so they'd feel involved, and wouldn't be left idle to overthink things.
Vera clearly understood Allen's intent, but she kept quiet.
"Then let's go right away," Aristo, having heard Allen's requirements, tugged Vesemir along in a rush.
"I remember there's monkshood around the middle section of Killer's Lake… and a little further, we can even find a nekker…"
Bang~!
The door was shut with a clatter as they left in a hurry.
"Then I'll also go meditate a bit, and work with Master Jerome on the experiment plan."
Allen nodded politely to Vera and Ida Emean, preparing to leave.
"Wait!" Vera suddenly stopped him.
"Philippa Eilhart came looking for you just now. She seemed to have something urgent. She said she'd wait for you at the training yard in front of the tower."
Philippa Eilhart had urgent business?
Allen paused for a moment, then nodded.
"Got it. I'll go find her right away. Anything else?"
Vera opened her mouth slightly, then glanced at Ida Emean before lightly shaking her head.
"No. You should go rest."
And so—
After bidding farewell to the two sorceresses, Allen left the castle hall straightaway.
-----------------------------------
Speaking of Philippa Eilhart, ever since he had returned from Toussaint a few days ago, Allen had stopped their daily tacit training because of the second mutation issue.
She seemed busy with her own matters too.
The two hadn't seen much of each other these past few days—well, except at night.
Even in sleep, Philippa remained in her owl form, claws gripping the beam of his ceiling. No different from the rafters of any other room, yet she always chose his.
To be honest, it was a little inconvenient.
But whenever Allen brought it up, she would only say it was to build "mutual understanding." He couldn't really figure out what she meant by that.
Lost in thought, Allen arrived at the training yard in front of the tower. It was empty.
A gray-brown owl swooped down from the fence, flapping its wings, and landed neatly on his right shoulder.
"Philippa, Lady Vera said you were looking for me?"
"That's right." The owl bobbed its head.
"There's new information from Aretuza… A companion from Ban Ard wishes to meet you."
..........
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