The abdication of a leader is a major event, especially when that leader is Sol, the founder of the Wolf School…
Vesemir, Danthe, and later Aristo, after Sol and Allen had both made their positions clear, remained silent.
Allen knew this wasn't silent defiance.
The Wolf School didn't operate that way.
They were simply at a loss, uncertain what to do.
If Sol's second mutation had failed and he had truly passed away,
Vesemir, Danthe, and Aristo would have upheld their promise. When the Wolf School witchers returned during the harsh winter, they would have ensured Allen's rise despite all opposition.
But…
Sol was alive, and Allen was far too young.
Youth can be an advantage in many situations, but in the realm of power, it's often a disadvantage.
This isn't something sheer skill can compensate for.
"This isn't urgent," Sol said, brushing white stone powder from his body, his tone gentle. "I'll speak with White, Valerius, Dylan, Gregor, and the others when they return."
Before Vesemir and the others could respond, Sol surveyed the room. The lab was a wreck, and he frowned slightly, giving a wry smile: "The commotion got a bit out of hand… can these instruments be repaired?"
Of course the instruments could be repaired. After all, Tomas Moreau's handmade devices weren't so delicate that a few bumps would render them irreparable.
All that was needed was time. But unlike most witchers in this world, what Allen lacked most of all right now was time.
The two Conjunction of the Spheres amplified by absorbing the void crystals from Ard Gaeth' Gate had yet to be used in nearly a week, due to Sol's body…
Three days from now, the scheming Vilgefortz would arrive in Kaer Village again. Then the plan to rescue Hen Gedymdeith would likely start taking shape…
Even more pressing was "Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky"…
Upgrading gene mutation had been exhilarating, but it had already cost eighty-four experience orbs. Nearly a hundred more were needed to unlock "Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky"…
Before rescuing Hen Gedymdeith, there was also the trip to the Melitele Temple to open the treasure chest…
On top of that, Allen still had his own attribute limits and second mutation research…
A thousand threads of concern, and even splitting Allen into eighteen pieces wouldn't suffice.
Just thinking about it made Allen's head ache.
"I'll handle the repairs on the instruments," Jerome Moreau suddenly spoke when he saw Allen looking troubled. "I may not match your skill in second mutation, but as a craftsman, patching up a few instruments should be no problem."
Allen immediately felt relieved. Jerome Moreau was indeed the best choice.
However…
Although Jerome Moreau could take care of repairing instruments like the Iron Maiden, the research plans for the second mutation involving the three Wolf School masters—Vesemir, Danthe, and Aristo—could not be delegated. That had to be taken up directly.
Ah, that was already three major tasks at once.
"Then thank you, Master Jerome!" Sol glanced at Allen, offering no refusal. "I'll send word to Erland, letting him know of your actions."
Jerome Moreau paused, a little hesitant, then nodded. "Then I'll trouble the Grandmaster."
At this moment, for some reason, he felt a slight urge to refuse Sol's request. So many years had passed, and perhaps in Kaer Seren, he would have long since been dead.
But the Grandmaster of the Wolf School wasn't just informing the school that he was still alive—he was already taking steps to fulfill Allen's recent promise regarding the achievements of the second mutation.
This was not something he had the right to refuse.
"As for the 'form of power' Allen mentioned…"
The Wolf School Grandmaster's voice brought him back to his thoughts.
He saw Sol lowering his head, thoughtfully examining his own fist.
"I… I also have that feeling you described, as if every cell in my body is waiting to be shaped, to adopt a stronger stance…" Sol murmured softly. "It stirs, yet feels uncertain, urging and restraining at the same time…"
"Yes! That's exactly the feeling!" Jerome Moreau seemed to find a kindred spirit, stepping closer to Sol, excitement written on his face.
But then he suddenly realized something and halted.
"Wait!"
Jerome Moreau frowned, disbelief clear in his expression. "You… you feel it too?"
Vesemir, Danthe, and Aristo were all caught off guard, their faces full of shock.
"Yes, I feel it too," Sol nodded calmly.
"But… but…" Jerome Moreau stammered.
He wanted to ask—wasn't that stronger stance supposed to be the awe-inspiring dragon form that appeared right after the second mutation? He had thought that the "dragon-human" form, infused with the dragon's genes, had already sculpted Sol's ultimate power form.
But Sol clearly wasn't mistaken. The sensation he described was nearly identical to what Jerome Moreau himself was feeling—almost no difference at all.
Yet…
How could it be? That dragon form had nearly made him tremble all over, and now Sol was at the same initial stage?
Instinctively, Jerome Moreau looked toward the person on the scene most likely to know the answer.
Everyone else's gaze also turned to Allen.
Allen gently shook his head.
"This isn't urgent," Sol waved his hand. "My state hasn't fully stabilized, and your body hasn't completely recovered. Let's study it properly in a few days."
Jerome Moreau thought for a moment and nodded.
It was getting late.
Sol had clearly survived against all odds, and he had much to discuss with Vera.
After a few more words, everyone found an excuse to leave the Witcher's research lab, each lost in their own thoughts.
Allen followed Vesemir, walking alongside Jerome Moreau out of the lab. Then, suddenly,
"Allen…" Sol's voice came from behind. "Could… could you stay a moment?"
"We… I have some things I want to ask you…"
Vesemir, Danthe, and Aristo froze for a moment, exchanged a subtle glance, and then, as if they had heard nothing, waved off Jerome Moreau and Ada Emin to leave.
Jerome Moreau paused for a moment, then with a complex expression patted Allen on the shoulder and left the lab.
"Creak—"
The door of the Witcher's research lab groaned as it closed.
In the messy lab, only the three closest by blood remained.
Allen had known about his lineage for nearly half a month now.
But this was the first time since discovering it that the "family of three" was alone in a room.
There was none of the initial anger, the rush of heated emotions igniting every vein from his previous life; that influence had completely faded. Still, Allen felt somewhat nervous.
To be honest, even now he didn't know how to handle this tangled web of emotions.
In front of others, he could remain businesslike, meeting Sol and Vera's eyes directly. But in private… could he really call out "Dad" and "Mom"?
Though he had inherited all the memories of his previous life, essentially taking on the life of his former self, he was no longer the orphan who grew up in the orphanage.
Yet, in that previous life, he was already thirty; those words simply didn't come naturally, nor did they seem necessary.
Moreover, in his former life, even without drawing his sword, he had already done right by the Wolf School over the years.
He had managed to suppress residual emotions from his past life in major matters, spending enormous effort to save Sol and elevate his strength even further.
Truly, he had earned the special treatment granted by Sol and Vera after crossing over.
Of course, Sol and Vera themselves appeared just as tense, even more so in some ways.
"How should we deal with Tomas Moreau?" Sol was the first to break the silence.
So it was about this matter… Allen exhaled, then frowned slightly.
After extracting the location of the lab and the details of the second mutation, Tomas Moreau had lost all usefulness.
Instead, every day he remained alive with Makarov was an obvious risk to the Wolf School.
For anyone else, at this point, simply killing him and finding a place to bury him would suffice. But Tomas Moreau was different.
After all, he had owed a debt to the Wolf School—he was Jerome Moreau's father.
Though he had been a poor father at best, even a just man struggles with family matters; killing him outright was clearly inappropriate, and leaving it to Jerome would also be wrong.
It would be unfair to push this impossible choice onto Jerome.
For a moment, Allen couldn't think of any perfect solution. He could only recount everything he had seen in Tomas Moreau's lab—the memory crystals, Jerome Moreau's personal opinions, and the fate of his birth mother, Lydia.
Sol and Vera were two to three hundred years old; their experience in such matters surely surpassed his own.
Allen thought this to himself.
But unexpectedly, Vera seemed fine hearing it, while Sol's expression shifted multiple times.
Especially when he heard that Jerome Moreau, if not for the Griffon School's rules and principles, had wanted to personally kill Tomas Moreau, Sol's eyes flickered toward Allen, as if questioning whether Allen's words hinted at something… almost as if he were about to ask, "Did you also once want to kill me?"
In the end, Allen still forced himself to finish speaking.
"You don't need to worry about this. We'll find a way to handle it. If Jerome asks later, just tell him to come to us…"
Vera quickly spoke up, ending the topic.
But what followed was another round of awkward silence.
"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave then," Allen said, feeling a bit tense staying there, and decided to excuse himself.
Vera and Sol didn't respond immediately, seeming to hesitate. Finally, after exchanging a glance, they both simply nodded.
"It's fine. Go on and take care of your things," Sol forced an awkward smile.
Allen exhaled, nodded in acknowledgment, and turned to leave.
Creak—
The heavy iron door groaned as it slowly opened.
When Allen stepped out of the Witcher's research lab and slowly closed the iron door behind him…
"Thank you, Allen," Sol's voice came, full of apology.
It wasn't so much a thank-you as a soft "I'm sorry, Allen" squeezed through the crack of the door.
Allen paused, slightly taken aback…
Bang~
The cold, heavy iron door sealed tightly into the sturdy frame.
He stood silently at the doorway for a moment, letting out a quiet sigh, then turned and left.
-----------------------------------
The castle hall of Kaer Morhen.
"What are your thoughts?"
At the long table, the fire in the fireplace flickered, casting shadows that danced along the walls.
Danthe took a bite of bread that had cooled and hardened after baking, and looked toward the two other Witcher masters in Kaer Morhen—besides him, the only other masters of the Wolf School.
No, not just two!
Now there were four Witcher masters in Kaer Morhen aside from him. But besides Vesemir and Aristo, the other two were the core of the problem.
"What thoughts could there be?" Vesemir furrowed his brow and swallowed the dry bread with difficulty. "Do you mean you don't trust Allen or refuse to follow the Chief's orders?"
"You know that's not what I mean…" Danthe shook his head. "You, Aristo, and I have spent enough time with Allen to know his abilities and character…"
"We ourselves still have doubts, let alone the others."
"Then convince them," Vesemir said in a brisk tone, downing a cup of wine almost absentmindedly.
Danthe's face turned serious. He grabbed Vesemir's arm and forced him to put down the cup. "This isn't just about convincing them!"
"Then what is it?!!" Vesemir snapped, growing impatient.
"It's about the Wolf School collapsing!"
Danthe slammed Vesemir's still-lifting wine cup onto the oak table.
Bang!
The crimson wine spilled like blood, flowing across the dark wood grain.
Sizzle—
Danthe glared and suddenly stood, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as he slammed it, the sound echoing off the cold castle walls.
The fire in the hearth flickered nervously.
"Vesemir, you know what I'm saying!" Danthe glared at Vesemir, who hung his head.
"The Wolf School isn't a kingdom of the mortal world, Kaer Morhen isn't a hereditary domain—it's just a place where a group of Witchers huddle together…"
"If the Chief really…," he paused, "then out of respect for him, if Allen's identity is revealed, the school might be shaken, but most will stand with us."
"All the Witcher masters—Valerius, Gregor, Dylan… they would."
"But now?"
"Now, these people will oppose the Chief and Allen. One wrong move, and the Wolf School could splinter even more thoroughly than the Witcher Order once did."
Vesemir fell silent for a moment, shaking his head. "Not entirely… Killer whales, Drowner heart mutation serum, Ice Spear spell… Allen can—"
"But not everyone agrees with Allen's radical ideas…" Danthe interrupted. "Don't tell me you didn't hear the rumors when the Witcher Corps was first founded, or the changes during the Mountain Trials…"
"Many of the Wolf School's Witcher masters dissent…"
Vesemir stayed silent, for he knew this.
He stared at the crimson wine flowing in the wood grain, silent for a long moment. He didn't understand why, after Sol survived, he would still pass the Chief's position to Allen.
And Allen actually accepted it.
What are you all thinking… Vesemir asked himself.
"…uath…"
At that moment, Aristo, who had been lost in thought since leaving the Witcher's lab, muttered softly.
"Aristo, what are you saying?" Danthe couldn't help asking.
Aristo lifted his solemn face, looked at Vesemir, then at Danthe, and chanted: "Ess'tuath esse! This is inevitable! Watch the signs!"
"To know the signs…"
"First, Filius Miraculi—the Child of Miracle—will be born in the bitter cold."
"Death and rebirth, a non-human brings blood and fire."
-----------------------------------
Aristo began reciting an ancient prophetic poem, catching the two Wolf School masters off guard.
But as they listened, their expressions gradually grew grave.
"Vesemir, Danthe," Aristo finished the excerpt of the prophecy, his voice trembling with fear, "who the Chief is now no longer matters."
"The problem now is…"
"Allen is the one in the prophecy who stands opposite all living beings…"
"The Child of Miracle."
..........
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