2

Just as Wayne contemplated whether to absorb the power from the Circle of Elements, the Wolf School medallion resting on the stone table completed its charge. It appeared unchanged at first glance, but upon closer inspection, one could discern a faint, strange luster now coating its surface.

Geralt extended his hand, carefully lifting the medallion. After a moment of study, he offered it to Wayne with a sense of relief. Descending from the altar, he said, "Here, take it."

"Let's go. It's time to return to the castle. We've encountered quite a lot today, and there was a battle—I reek of monster stench," Geralt added with a slight grimace.

Wayne nodded, casting one last nostalgic glance at the Circle of Elements before sighing quietly. He fastened the medallion to his chest and followed Geralt's lead down the mountain. As they walked, Wayne suggested, "I should check my fishing traps. There might be a catch. Let's also gather some mushrooms from the forest and see if we can snag a few rabbits or deer."

"However," Wayne continued thoughtfully, "the wine supply in the cellar is running low. With over a month remaining until spring, we can't indulge as we did before."

...

As winter gradually gave way to spring, Wayne found himself on the brink of the year 1250, preparing to descend the mountain. Kaer Morhen, nestled in the Blue Mountains to the northeast of the Northern Kingdoms and within the territory of Kaedwen, was still gripped by the bitter cold. Despite the snow that had yet to fully melt, the witchers, having spent the entire winter within the castle's walls, were now ready to embark on new journeys.

Eskel and Lambert had already departed a few days earlier, heading north to the free city of Novigrad in search of contracts. Only Vesemir, Wayne, and Geralt remained in the castle now.

Today, Wayne and Geralt were making their preparations to leave Kaer Morhen, setting out for the Northern Kingdoms. As Wayne readied himself, Vesemir, the elder witcher, stood by, observing with the quiet demeanor of an old man watching a child venture out into the world.

In a final gesture of care, Vesemir provided Wayne with a new set of wolf-style Witcher armor and a high-quality steel sword. The sword, according to the old witcher, was one he had used in his younger days. It was forged from precious metals and remained a formidable weapon, though it had now become more of a keepsake. Vesemir saw it fit to pass it on to Wayne for use.

However, a silver sword and a horse were luxuries the old man couldn't afford to provide. Even with his savings, Vesemir's financial resources were limited, and he had to work hard just to prepare the armor and steel sword for Wayne in advance.

At the castle gate, Geralt stood by, holding the reins of a gray mare, watching with interest as Wayne and Vesemir shared their final words. The old witcher placed a hand on Wayne's shoulder and offered his earnest advice, "Wayne, once you descend the mountain, act with caution. Avoid entangling yourself in the schemes of nobles or nations."

"We Witchers must uphold our neutrality. We cannot take sides in the affairs of others," Vesemir continued, his tone serious. "I have confidence in your talent and strength, but you are still young. Remember, sometimes a human heart can be more sinister than any monster, and a villain more dangerous than any monster."

"Don't trust outsiders easily, and always be wary of the knife in the back."

Listening to Vesemir's words, Wayne felt a warm current of emotion rise within him. In the two years he had spent at Kaer Morhen, Vesemir had shown him sincere care and provided wholehearted teachings, becoming almost like a father figure in this unfamiliar world. Though there was no blood relation between them, the old witcher had played the role of a protective elder.

Wayne stepped forward and embraced Vesemir gently, expressing his sincere gratitude. "Rest assured, teacher, I will learn from Geralt and become an excellent Witcher."

Unexpectedly, Vesemir responded with a stern face, "Just make sure you only learn how to deal with monsters. Stay away from gambling, whoring, and other vices—they'll bring you more harm than good."

Wayne couldn't help but laugh at the old witcher's words. Turning his head, he caught sight of Geralt's wry expression and said, "I understand, teacher. It's getting late; we should leave soon, or we'll end up spending the night in the forest."

Vesemir patted Wayne's shoulder one last time, his reluctance clear, and bid him farewell. "Alright. Remember my words—don't trust others easily."

Wayne nodded seriously and then, with Geralt leading the way, set off under the watchful eyes of the old witcher.

The destination of their journey was yet to be determined, but the goal was clear: to find contracts and earn gold coins. Their initial plan was to visit nearby villages, checking for any monster problems while gathering information about the ongoing war. Based on past experiences, wars often left behind casualties, which in turn attracted monsters. This posed a threat to nearby human settlements, making it a prime opportunity for Witchers to find work.

In the absence of a war, their next destination would be one of the major cities in the north, where the abundance of wealthy individuals and intricate relationships made it easier to secure contracts.

Wayne, being a newly minted Witcher, knew he needed to save money to purchase essential equipment, such as a mount and a silver sword—items that were crucial for a Witcher but didn't come cheap. It might take some time to accumulate the necessary funds.

Of course, this was Geralt's plan, but he was unaware that Wayne was richer than he appeared. Over the past two years, Wayne's system had accumulated a professional-level treasure chest and over 500 ordinary-level treasure chests, all of which remained untouched. Each chest contained a quantity of coins, and the combined total was likely substantial.

However, Wayne knew that the money had essentially appeared out of thin air. If Geralt had been present during its acquisition, explaining the sudden wealth would have been difficult.

Therefore, Wayne needed to find an opportunity to temporarily distract Geralt and come up with a plausible excuse for his gains.

But that was a problem for after they left Kaer Morhen. Under the watchful gaze of the old witcher, Wayne followed closely behind Geralt, leading the mare laden with supplies as they swiftly disappeared into the depths of the forest.

...

Leaving Kaer Morhen Castle, Wayne followed Geralt for three full days, crossing the cold and rugged Blue Mountains to enter the Kingdom of Kaedwen. It was Wayne's first time camping in the wild, far from the comforts and routines of a more civilized life. The cold, harsh environment proved challenging for someone accustomed to more sophisticated surroundings.

Thanks to Geralt and his companions' familiarity with the mountains and a significant reduction in the number of monsters during winter, they were able to safely traverse the well-explored route. However, when they planned to search for commissions in the villages of Kaedwen, they encountered an unwelcome reality.

"Get out of our village, you disgusting mutants!" one villager shouted.

"A bunch of sorceress whores and bastards born of monsters dare to come and defile our land! Get out!" another jeered.

"Hide the children quickly! The witcher bastards are coming to steal our kids!"

After a full day of trekking through the wilderness, Wayne and Geralt arrived at a dilapidated village. Eager to learn about the local situation, Wayne approached a villager, only to be met with insults and hostility. Within minutes, a middle-aged, bearded man in a leather jacket, wielding an iron sword, led a group of five young men armed with pitchforks and hoes to confront them.

Seeing their menacing postures, Wayne instinctively gripped the steel sword strapped to his back, drawing it halfway. However, Geralt remained remarkably composed, patting Wayne on the shoulder to signal calm. He stepped forward and addressed the bearded man in a deep, steady voice.

"Hey, friend, it's in your best interest to calm those farmers down. We're witchers, here for commissions, not trouble. And if things get ugly, a couple of pitchforks won't help anyone."

Despite the bearded man's rough appearance, his past experiences had acquainted him with the tales of the formidable abilities of witchers. He knew that not only were these villagers outmatched, but even a dozen soldiers might not stand a chance against a seasoned witcher—let alone two.

Reluctantly, the bearded man gestured for the young men to lower their weapons. Squinting, they scrutinized the two witchers, noting Geralt's amber cat eyes and white hair and Wayne's pointed elven ears. A hint of disgust flickered in the bearded man's eyes.

"Get out of the village, witchers. There's no commission for you here."

Unfazed, Geralt shrugged and whispered to Wayne, "Don't be surprised. The Kingdom of Kaedwen has the strongest aversion to non-human races among the northern kingdoms. The people here are rough and uncivilized, with little regard for courtesy. Their king, Henselt, is more like a wild boar—a bandit and a violent drunkard—than a king."

"This king has no great achievements, but everyone in the north knows he loves persecuting non-human races. He tries to kill off dwarves and elves wherever he can. As witchers, we're also not welcome here. I rarely seek commissions in Kaedwen."

"Let's keep moving. Heading west and following the course of the Ponta River will take us about half a month to leave Kaedwen."

Wayne nodded, ready to leave with Geralt when a hobbled old woman suddenly emerged from the village. She hastened toward the bearded man, grabbing his sleeve, tears streaming down her face. After a brief exchange, she collapsed on the ground, weeping and clinging to the bearded man's leg. With a sigh, he helped her to her feet and called out to Wayne and Geralt.

"Hey, witchers, wait. We have a commission here."

Wayne and Geralt exchanged glances, then retraced their steps toward the bearded man and the old woman, whose expression had shifted from sorrow to hope. Before Geralt could speak, Wayne asked, "What is your commission?"

Seeing Wayne's proactive stance, Geralt glanced at him in surprise, recalling Wayne's peculiar habit at Kaer Morhen—always needing tasks to stay motivated. The bearded man, detecting no objection from Geralt, shifted his gaze to Wayne, the younger of the two, and spoke in a gruff voice.

"Two young men from our village are missing. I entrust you to find them." He supported the old woman beside him, her tears flowing freely, and continued with a hint of regret in his voice, "This is Misha, their mother. Three days ago, her two sons ventured into the southern forest to gather firewood, and they haven't returned. There are often wolves in that forest."

"Even if they've become prey for the wolves, we need to know for sure—confirmation of their fate, rather than dangling hope in front of the living."

The bearded man added, somewhat embarrassed, "We're poor farmers with little to offer. Misha can manage up to five ducats. Those two sons are her only kin. If they've met an unfortunate end, she likely won't survive until next year."

Wayne glanced at the sorrowful old woman, a twinge of sympathy welling up within him. Ducats were the currency in Kaedwen. Though Wayne wasn't exactly sure of five ducats' worth, it was clear that these poor farmers had little to spare.

As the bearded man finished speaking, a task reminder appeared in Wayne's mind:

Quest initiated: [Finding Misha's Missing Sons]

Difficulty Level: Expert

Objective: Locate and determine the fate of Misha's two missing sons in the southern forest.

Rewards: To be determined based on successful completion.

Wayne was overjoyed to find it was an expert-level task. According to his system's instructions, ordinary-level tasks were simple, often daily tasks that didn't even require combat. Expert-level tasks were more challenging, with a high probability of dangerous encounters.

Master-level and epic-level missions, on the other hand, were exceedingly rare and extremely difficult. These quests might only arise once every few years and could have world-altering consequences.

Despite his eagerness to accept the task, Wayne recognized that he was now part of a team with Geralt, and decisions needed to be made collaboratively. He turned to Geralt, silently seeking his opinion.

Geralt's face remained expressionless, but he nodded slightly, signaling his agreement. Wayne let out a sigh of relief, mentally committing to the task. With a smile, he turned to the bearded man and Misha.

"We're willing to take on this commission. However, the journey has taken a toll on us, and we'd like to rest first. Please arrange for a temporary place for us to rest and prepare a decent meal. Once we've regained our strength, we'll proceed with the commission."

…

Although the villagers harbored a deep resentment toward witchers, no one truly dared to provoke them under the protection of the bearded village chief. Wayne and Geralt took a brief respite before sharing a meal at Misha's house. The fare was quite basic; aside from a handful of eggs, there was no water or alcohol.

The villagers' challenging lives were evident, and perhaps to ensure her sons' well-being, Misha had presented the finest food her family could offer to host Wayne and Geralt.

After chatting with Geralt at the dinner table, Wayne finally understood the value of the five ducats reward. Ducats were a currency of uncertain origin, currently only used in Kaedwen, Skellige, and Novigrad.

Several years earlier, during Geralt's mission in Skellige, the cost of a drowner's body was two ducats, and a standard tavern meal could be bought for a single ducat. Essentially, Misha had enlisted the services of two witchers, pricing their work at the equivalent of two and a half drowners.

Upon hearing this, Wayne gazed at Geralt in disbelief. Despite knowing the White Wolf's just and kind nature, it was disheartening for Wayne to accept such meager payment. He couldn't help but feel the weight of the difficulty in being a good person. The task at hand was no longer a charitable endeavor; any damage to their equipment during the battle would indeed result in a loss.

Fortunately, Misha had also provided them with lunch; otherwise, it would have been difficult to fill their stomachs with such little money. After the meal, it was time for the renowned witcher Geralt to showcase his skills. He summoned Misha and the bearded village chief, asking in detail about Misha's two sons—their stature, appearance, habits, and more.

Having gathered information from both individuals regarding the frequent woodcutting locations of Misha's sons and the overall conditions of the forest, Wayne and Geralt prepared to embark on their journey.

Throughout the entire questioning process, Wayne refrained from intervening. Instead, he focused on sharpening his steel sword inherited from Vesemir with a whetstone, contemplating Geralt's intentions behind each question and the overall thought process.

In his pursuit of becoming a seasoned witcher, Wayne recognized the importance of learning from the experienced White Wolf. Detection and reasoning, crucial skills for any witcher, were at the forefront of his training. After the inquiry, Geralt and Wayne gathered all the necessary battle equipment, leaving their belongings entrusted to the bearded village chief for safekeeping.

Of course, to prevent these unruly villagers from harboring any ill intentions, the two did not forget to draw their weapons and warned seriously, "If anything goes missing from our belongings, we'll demand double compensation from you."

The bearded village chief was still a sensible man, so there shouldn't be any mistakes.

Based on the information obtained, the two quickly left the village and entered the nearby forest.

Tracing the route outlined by Misha and utilizing their heightened senses, Geralt and Wayne diligently followed the footprints along the path. Eventually, they pinpointed the location where the two young men typically engaged in tree-cutting activities.

It was early spring, and the Kingdom of Kaedwen, located in the northeastern part of the northern kingdoms, experienced colder temperatures than several other regions. In this untouched forest, human footprints stood out distinctly.

While following the trail, Geralt imparted his investigative skills to Wayne through detailed instruction.

Wayne practiced while learning and spent more than half an hour before they found two bundles of firewood and an axe covered by weeds in inconspicuous grass.

"It should be here," Geralt said.

Geralt ran his fingers across his stubble-covered chin, contemplating. "Two young men encountered a mishap at this spot. Due to the urgency of the situation, they ended up losing both wood and an axe," he deduced.

He looked up at Wayne and said, "Let's look around here for footprints, blood, or something."

Wayne nodded, activating his witcher senses, and began searching around the grass for potential clues. Truthfully, this meticulous search was far from enjoyable. It was time-consuming, unenjoyable, and incredibly draining, resembling a form of physical labor.

But in the wilderness where evidence was scarce, this seemingly cumbersome method was the only way to yield results.

After searching for more than ten minutes, Wayne still hadn't found anything, but Geralt, not far away, stood up, waved to him, and shouted, "Wayne, come to me. I found a clue."

As Wayne approached, Geralt was crossing his arms, seemingly lost in thought again.

Wayne gazed in the direction of Geralt's gaze and soon found four rows of footprints on the ground. Assessing their shape and depth, he concluded that two of the footprints likely belonged to Misha's sons.

In just a few seconds, Geralt came to a conclusion. "The good news is that there is no blood in the vicinity. At least the two children did not die here, nor did they perish at the hands of wild wolves. They should have been held hostage."

"The bad news is that it's been almost three days since it happened."

"After all this time, no one knows where they were abducted or whether they are still alive."

Wayne shrugged indifferently, pointed to the footprints on the ground, and said, "No matter where they are taken, all we can do is follow the clues they left behind and keep searching."

Geralt thought the same way. He drew his long sword from behind his back and said to Wayne, "Let's go. Draw your sword. Based on the direction of these footprints, they must have been taken deep into the forest."

"Be vigilant at all times. Spring is here, and the monsters are beginning to recover. No one knows what might suddenly emerge from the forest."

Time passed quickly, and dusk arrived in the blink of an eye. Although the forest environment was extremely complex, it proved manageable for two seasoned witchers with heightened senses. Wayne and Geralt operated in coordination, with one tracking the footprints and the other on guard duty as they advanced together.

After navigating the forest for approximately two hours and overcoming numerous obstacles, Wayne and Geralt eventually arrived at a concealed cave hidden behind a large tree, well out of sight.

However, just as they approached the cave, several wooden bows and arrows were suddenly released from behind the giant tree near the entrance. With precision, the arrows struck their intended targets along the path Wayne and Geralt were traversing.

Without hesitation, Wayne swiftly erected a protective layer of Quen shield around himself, and his steel sword assumed a defensive stance.

Meanwhile, Geralt opted for a more direct approach. As soon as the arrows were released, he rolled to the side and behind a large rock to hide.

Wayne carefully maintained the Quen shield, turning his gaze toward the source of the arrows. To his realization, nestled among the branches above the giant tree were six elf archers clad in animal skins, each wielding bows and arrows with intent demeanors.

A female elf with long black hair and keen black eyes, scrutinizing Wayne and Geralt for more than ten seconds, appeared fixated on Wayne's pointed elven ears. Eventually, she spoke in the common language of humans.

"Witchers, this is the territory of elves. Why did you come here?"

The female elf stood tall and slender, her coal-black hair cascading loosely over her shoulders. A thin braid was tied at each temple, adding to her commanding presence. She wore a green satin jacket with a loose leather vest over it, sheepskin-tight trousers, riding boots, and a colorful silk scarf wrapped around her waist, covering most of her thighs.

Her eyelashes were long, her skin unusually pale, and her lips chapped. A necklace, wound several times around her neck, held beads carved from golden birch, strung on a strong leather cord. Overall, she had the appearance of a fierce female warrior.

Raising her voice, the black-haired elf demanded, "Witchers, what is your purpose here?"

The elf archers perched in the trees raised their bows and arrows, ready to strike at her command. Wayne glanced at Geralt, noticing the White Wolf's stern expression, indicating his reluctance to speak. Taking the initiative, Wayne stepped forward and addressed the female elf.

"We followed the trail here in search of two young men who went missing while chopping firewood," Wayne explained. "Their mother, who hired us, is desperate for their safe return."

"Searching for someone?" The female elf considered this for a moment. After a few seconds, she grabbed a hemp rope, swung gracefully from a branch, and landed seven or eight meters from Wayne. Her keen black eyes fixed on Wayne's pointed ears as she suddenly inquired, "You're an elf too, aren't you? You must know how our kind is treated in Kaedwen. Why would you help humans?"

Wayne remained composed, responding calmly, "Yes, I am a half-elf. But I'm also a witcher. We adhere to the principle of neutrality, avoiding involvement in factional conflicts and remaining impartial."

The female elf's face twisted into a mocking smile as she retorted, "You may choose neutrality, but troublemakers won't spare you for it. Many of our kind believed in peaceful coexistence with humans, only to end up hanging from trees or devoured by wild dogs."

"Humans are selfish and despicable, harboring no tolerance for non-humans. You should know how many elves have perished at their hands."

She did not expect her words to sway the witchers before her, but her anger was evident. After venting her frustrations, she composed herself and spoke with resolve, "My name is Toruviel, and I lead these elves and dwarves."

"The two men you're looking for are our prisoners. But I won't hand them over without reason. You can either fight us for their freedom, or you can help us with a task. When we trust you enough, we'll release them."

Wayne frowned at the mention of the name Toruviel. He vaguely recalled that she would later rise to prominence as one of the senior officers of the Scoia'tael, a central figure within the group. However, the Scoia'tael wouldn't be formally established until the first Nilfgaardian invasion more than ten years later. For now, these non-humans were merely wandering soldiers, persecuted by humans and forced to hide in forests and wilderness.

Reflecting on Toruviel's offer, Wayne turned to Geralt and asked quietly, "Should we accept this commission from the elves?"

Geralt shrugged and replied indifferently, "As witchers, we must receive appropriate compensation; we don't work for free. And if possible, I hope you can release those two men now. Their mother has been waiting for three days, and if this drags on, she might succumb to grief."

Noticing Toruviel's growing impatience, Wayne quickly added, "But rest assured, we will uphold our promises. The long-lived elves must have heard of the reputation of us witchers."

Toruviel appeared to genuinely need the witchers' help. She narrowed her eyes, fixed her gaze on Wayne, and after contemplating for several seconds, spoke in a deep voice, "We can release the men first, but you must provide assurance."

"The two men must not reveal our location. Furthermore, you can send your companion back, but you must stay with us as a hostage."

Wayne wasn't concerned that these non-humans might harbor ill will toward him. He simply wanted to divert Geralt's attention. Nodding with a smile, he said, "No problem, Toruviel. My name is Wayne."

"I suggest you use the safety of the village and their mother, Misha, to intimidate the two young men. Being mere country folk, they likely wouldn't dare defy fighters like yourselves."

Toruviel seemed somewhat surprised by Wayne's suggestion but quickly turned her head and shouted to a male elf in the trees.

Watching Geralt leave with the two young men, Wayne felt a rare sense of relief. It had been almost two years since he entered this world, and he consistently found himself surrounded by others. Consequently, he was always compelled to conceal his abilities. This was the first time he felt truly free.

Turning to Toruviel beside him, he said with some familiarity, "It's getting late now, Toruviel. Let's head to where you live and discuss the commission. I'm still a little curious about how you've managed to live in the cave."

The female elf frowned slightly at Wayne's sudden familiarity, puzzled by his casual demeanor. However, with the commission needing to be handed over to the witcher, she didn't dwell on it. After issuing a few instructions to the elf archers positioned in the trees, directing them to maintain their concealment and secure the cave entrance, she signaled for Wayne to follow her inside.

The cave resembled a stalactite cavern, adorned with numerous conical stalactites hanging from its ceiling. Although the entrance was not large, the interior proved to be quite expansive. Wayne followed Toruviel as she held a torch taken from near the cave entrance. They navigated a complex, maze-like route, with the torchlight flickering off the stone walls.

Finally, they reached a structure that resembled the underground ruins of an elven palace. Following an underground river more than a meter wide, they passed through a massive, intricately carved archway, leading into a vast, open space. The area resembled a grand banquet hall with four massive stone pillars supporting the ceiling.

"This is where we live temporarily," Toruviel pointed towards a section of the hall where several bonfires burned. Around the bonfires, a dozen tents of various sizes had been set up. Elves and dwarves, both men and women of different ages, sat around the campfires, resting, conversing, and engaging in various activities. Among them were old and young alike, clad in simple attire and bearing weary expressions that suggested they were ordinary civilians.

Wayne noticed a few halflings standing by an iron pot near one of the campfires, diligently stirring with a large spoon as they prepared food.

"They are all people who have been persecuted by humans, having lost their relatives and been deprived of their property, rendering them unable to survive in the towns," Toruviel explained calmly.

"We took them in, taught them to fight, and taught them how to survive in the forest. But the king's soldiers are still hunting us down, trying to kill us all. We can't do anything but fight back."

Listening to the female elf's account, Wayne fell silent for a moment. In the world of witchers, elves, dwarves, halflings, and other non-human races have long been targets of persecution. Thousands of years ago, the elves graciously welcomed human refugees who found themselves in this world due to the Conjunction of the Spheres. However, what followed were successive purges and massacres, reducing them from a dominant race that once ruled the continent to a persecuted minority.

For the time being, Wayne lacked the ability and the leisure to intervene in the affairs of non-human races. He chose to bypass the topic and, while observing the surrounding ruins, asked a question.

"This ruin appears to be vast, yet you all reside in this hall. Do you need our assistance in clearing out the rest of this place?"

Toruviel nodded, her hand resting on the hilt of the sword at her waist, speaking directly. "Yes, witcher. We stumbled upon these elven ruins by chance. Although the underground environment is dark and inconvenient for living, it offers sufficient concealment and shelter for us. However, this place has been abandoned for too long, and numerous monsters have taken residence here. Some of my fighters have been injured by these creatures."

"As a witcher and an expert in dealing with such threats, I wish to entrust you with the task of clearing out the monsters."

Wayne nodded, not immediately agreeing but instead surveying the ruins. The history of this place was evident from the many damaged and worn areas, yet the remnants, such as the intricate murals and beautiful statues, still hinted at the former grandeur of elven civilization.

Through his dark vision, Wayne discovered four gates connecting the hall to other areas. Besides the massive archway they had entered through, another stone gate was sealed with stones and mud. The remaining two gates were guarded by elves and dwarves armed with weapons and torches, evidently standing watch against potential monster intrusions.

However, Wayne had already completed Misha's mission of finding the lost individuals today. Even if he were to accept the task of clearing the ruins, he wouldn't receive any additional reward. Thus, he casually observed the hall before addressing Toruviel.

"I can help you clear out the monsters in these ruins, Toruviel. However, it's late now, and we witchers must make sufficient preparations before engaging in battle."

He paused, then added, "Please assist me in finding a quieter place where I can prepare for the upcoming fight. Tomorrow, after my companion and I reunite, we will discuss the matter of compensation and begin your commission."

In response to Wayne's request, Toruviel swiftly organized several elves to construct a new tent in an open space, situated about ten meters away from their current camp. She also instructed others to prepare all the necessary bedding and pillows for resting.

This was the proper way to treat someone whose help you sought, and Wayne wasn't one to be overly polite. After a brief conversation with the elven leader, he entered the tent under the curious gazes of some of the elves and dwarves.

The tent, made from animal hide, was conical and somewhat cramped. The craftsmanship wasn't top-notch, and upon entering, Wayne immediately noticed the faint odor of animal urine. However, the quilt spread on the ground was clean, with a faint scent of flowers lingering in the air.

It was still dusk, and after traveling from the Blue Mountains and spending several hours tracking through the forest, Wayne's body felt noticeably fatigued. However, instead of lying down to rest, he first removed the Wolf School's armor from his upper body, sat cross-legged on the quilt, and entered a meditative state.

Wayne had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Now that he had finally managed to part ways with Geralt, he could open the treasure chests that had accumulated in the system over the past two years. To be honest, Wayne sometimes marveled at his ability to resist the temptation of opening these treasure chests for so long. He wondered if any other young man could have done the same.

He looked at the 580 normal-level treasure chests and the one expert-level chest he had earned from a mission. Without hesitation, Wayne decided to open one of them.

"Ding! A normal-level treasure chest has been opened," the system announced.

Obtained: 12 Ducats

Wayne felt a slight weight in his hand, and out of nowhere, twelve Ducats, resembling gold coins, appeared. It was the first time he had seen this kind of currency. The coins were slightly shiny, with intricate patterns on both sides, but their weight suggested they weren't pure gold.

Looking at the coins in his hand, Wayne couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. Although twelve Ducats were a decent sum for an ordinary farmer—Misha's commission had only been five Ducats—this amount wouldn't last long in big cities like Vizima or Novigrad. It might cover two days' rent and meals at best.

However, as Wayne's disappointment grew, a note about treasure chest rewards popped up in the system, rekindling his hope:

Normal-level treasure chests yield a small amount of currency from the corresponding region, with a 1% chance of obtaining an ordinary random item from another world.

Expert-level treasure chests provide a moderate amount of currency from the corresponding region, along with a 5% chance of acquiring a rare item from another world.

Master-level treasure chests result in a substantial amount of currency from the corresponding area, with a 20% chance of receiving a precious item from another world.

Epic-level treasure chests yield an excess of currency from the corresponding region, with a 50% chance of obtaining an epic treasure from another world.

Reading this, Wayne realized the system's rewards weren't necessarily bad—he had just been unlucky.

With renewed determination, Wayne raised his hand and selected one hundred normal-level treasure chests, opening them all at once.

"Ding! 100 normal-level treasure chests have been opened."

Obtained: 1,365 Ducats, one exquisite pocket watch.

Wayne was momentarily stunned. A purse containing thousands of coins materialized beside him, along with a beautifully packaged small box. The system, showing a touch of humanity, had provided him with a money bag instead of just scattering the coins.

Looking at the gleaming gold coins in the purse, Wayne didn't immediately inspect the box with the pocket watch. Instead, he reached out and grabbed the money bag, feeling its considerable weight. The purse was heavy, roughly the size of a pineapple, and weighed over ten kilograms.

Although the gold content of these coins was minimal, possessing thousands of Ducats was a fortune most farmers could never hope to earn in their lifetime.

Rationality told Wayne not to open any more normal-level treasure chests today. Otherwise, it would be difficult to conceal so many Ducats, and explaining them when he reunited with Geralt would be tricky.

However, his curiosity got the better of him. After some thought, Wayne decided to open the only expert-level treasure chest.

"Ding! An expert-level treasure chest has been opened."

Obtained: 278 Ducats, Doran's Ring.

As the system announced the rewards, a smaller money bag and a beautiful purple gemstone ring appeared beside him. Wayne was overjoyed. He put down the purse and picked up the ring. At the same time, the system provided an explanation of Doran's Ring's attributes:

Doran's Ring: Originating from the continent of Valoran, crafted by the legendary blacksmith Doran. It enhances the recovery speed of a moderate amount of mana and boosts a small amount of magic power. Additionally, each time an enemy is killed, a small amount of mana is immediately restored.

Wayne recognized the ring immediately. It was the best starting equipment for mage champions in the game League of Legends. Although the system's description in this world might not be as precise as in the game, the three effects it provided made it clear that this was indeed valuable magical equipment.

For Wayne, obtaining Doran's Ring was more exciting than acquiring over 1,000 Ducats. As a Witcher who preferred using Signs, the ring's attributes, especially its ability to restore mana when killing enemies, seemed tailor-made for him. It could significantly enhance his combat endurance.

With a 5% chance of obtaining an item from an expert-level treasure chest, Wayne felt lucky to have received magical equipment that could be directly converted into power.

Feeling satisfied, Wayne placed the Doran's Ring on the ring finger of his left hand. He then opened the exquisite box containing the pocket watch and retrieved a golden timepiece adorned with intricate carvings. He admired the pocket watch for a moment, noting that it operated on a 24-hour system.

Although Wayne wasn't sure if the time in this world aligned with the pocket watch's 24-hour system, he figured it would still be useful as a timing tool. Satisfied, Wayne couldn't help but stroke the Doran's Ring on his finger, sensing the enhanced attributes it provided. He gently closed his eyes and resumed his meditation.

Whether it was an illusion or not, after donning Doran's Ring, Wayne felt that the mutant organs in his body became more active during meditation. The increase in his magic power recovery rate was noticeable, about one-third faster than before. This boost was enough to allow him to cast an additional Sign or two during a battle.

The sensation of growing stronger brought joy to Wayne. He meditated for over ten minutes when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching his tent from outside.

After a few seconds, the tent's flap was pulled open, and Toruviel, the elven leader, bent down and peeked inside. She looked at Wayne calmly and said, "Witcher, dinner is ready. Would you like to join us?"

Toruviel was clad in a black padded jacket, complemented by a brown linen shirt underneath. The loose neckline of the shirt caught Wayne's eye when the female elf bent over, but he quickly shifted his gaze, offering a polite smile that suited his youthful appearance. He addressed her warmly.

"Of course, Toruviel. Thank you for the invitation. I'm quite hungry."

Toruviel didn't notice Wayne's brief glance. She nodded and left the tent, with Wayne following her out. She walked beside him, leading the way to the camp.

The camp was bustling with activity, likely due to the dinner hour. Elves, dwarves, and halflings—men, women, young and old—lined up orderly around three steaming cauldrons.

Wayne estimated there were about thirty residents in the camp. Judging by their attire and equipment, he figured around five to ten of them were capable fighters.

Noticing his gaze, Toruviel pursed her lips and spoke in a calm yet sorrowful tone.

"There were over three hundred of us at the start. We fled from the capital of Kaedwen. But along the way, half of our group was slaughtered by Kaedwen's soldiers."

She paused, then continued with a hint of bitterness. "The villagers we released yesterday might reveal our location. I can't take that risk. I've decided to treat them as prisoners, keeping them confined."

Wayne nodded in understanding. It was necessary to take decisive actions to protect their people from being tracked by soldiers and to eliminate potential threats.

As they reached a relatively clean bonfire, more than a dozen elves and dwarves, dressed as warriors, were already eating. When they saw Toruviel leading Wayne, they all stood up and saluted her, a sign of her significant status among them.

Once they found a spot to sit, a female elf approached with two bowls of hot food, respectfully handing them over.

Wayne casually inspected the contents, finding potatoes, meat, beets, and gnocchi. The food looked appealing, though the taste remained to be seen.

He took a sip of the soup, which was both sweet and salty but not particularly appetizing. It was far from the culinary standards Wayne was used to.

He scooped up a piece of meat and placed it in his mouth, speaking casually.

"This area is still within Kaedwen's territory, surrounded by human villages and towns," he noted. "Toruviel, you might consider relocating to a more remote area, like the primeval forests of the Blue Mountains. The sparse population, difficult terrain, and abundance of monsters make it hard for humans to find you."

The female elf leader took a sip of her soup before setting the bowl aside. Staring into the bonfire, she snorted and spoke with determination.

"I won't flee from Kaedwen. Many of our people are still in danger, relying on us for rescue. Humans treat us like sheep, slaughtering us without mercy. But we'll show them that elves are not cowards. We will wield swords when faced with death. No one can take away our right to live."

Seeing the conversation take a heavy turn, Wayne sighed but spoke bluntly.

"There are too many humans, and their soldiers are well-equipped and professionally trained. With so few fighters, it's impossible to defeat them in a direct confrontation. You might struggle even to defend yourselves during a siege. Right now, your priority should be to preserve your strength. Stay low, gather more non-humans willing to resist. Only when you amass enough strength and can defend yourselves will humanity truly listen to your voice. Otherwise, they'll continue to see you as thieves and bandits, acting against you at will."

Noticing Toruviel looking at him, Wayne paused for a moment before adding.

"The strength of the elves isn't weak. With your long lifespan, combined with diligence and intelligence, you can excel in any field. You could become master craftsmen, using your skills to accumulate wealth and strength quickly. But the elves are too scattered. In any city or village, you'll always be a minority, unable to resist. However, if you unite all the elves across the northern kingdoms, you'd become a force no country could afford to underestimate. What you lack is a unifying symbol—a capable leader who can bring you together. Perhaps, one day, when the elves unite, muster thousands of soldiers, seize a specific territory, and are guided by a wise leader, the elven kingdom can be rebuilt and rejuvenated through resilience."

Toruviel remained silent for a while, contemplating his words, before she asked with a hint of expectation in her voice.

"You're a thoughtful person, Wayne. You know how to resist, how to protect yourself, how to fight. Maybe you should consider joining our cause, helping our people escape human persecution. Fight for the liberation of non-humans."

Wayne noticed the hopeful look in her eyes, but he couldn't help feeling slightly awkward. As someone with a modern mindset, discussing such matters was one thing, but fully committing to the cause of liberating a race was another. He wasn't mentally prepared for such a commitment.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady as he declined.

"Sorry, Toruviel. I'm a Witcher and must remain neutral. I understand my abilities, but I can't commit to sacrificing my life for others."

Toruviel looked disappointed but unsurprised. The neutrality of Witchers in the north was well-known, having been upheld for centuries. She picked up a wine jug, took a sip, then extended it towards Wayne.

"Try this, Wayne. It's cider I brewed myself, using a recipe my mother taught me. It's probably the only thing she left me. Your input is valuable, Wayne. I'll give it serious consideration."

Wayne hesitated, but eventually took the jug, raised it to his lips, and took a sip. The cider had an exceptional taste, blending the sweetness of wine with a subtle floral fragrance. It would be considered a fine drink even in modern times.

Squinting slightly, Wayne took another sip, then exhaled and spoke to the elf.

"Toruviel, while Witchers cannot join your cause, we are adversaries of all human societies. But we can be friends, and it's not out of the question to assist a friend with a commission, without compromising our neutrality."

The next morning, Wayne's first action upon waking was to check the mission system and verify the completion status of his previous assignment. The outcome was satisfactory; the system exhibited a degree of humanity in this regard. Despite delegating the task's follow-up to Geralt, the mission of locating the individuals entrusted by Misha had been successfully completed.

Wayne received 45 experience points and an expert-level chest. The rewards for expert-level tasks were substantial, nearly equivalent to the experience rewards from completing fifteen ordinary-level tasks. He estimated that upon finishing the exploration of the ruins, his Witcher level would ascend to level six, resulting in a slight improvement in his strength.

Of course, expert-level tasks are quite challenging. For example, in this mission of finding people, if Wayne and Geralt had insisted on pursuing their own course and opted for forceful methods to take the two young individuals away, they would have clashed with the non-human races, inevitably leading to a significant battle. Instead of resolving the matter peacefully, this approach would have led to unnecessary conflict.

This experience sparked an interesting idea in Wayne's mind. He wondered whether his quest system only concentrated on the results or if he had to actively participate and complete the quests himself. Could he recruit a few adventurers and delegate tasks to them, allowing them to work on his behalf while he supervised?

However, Wayne was currently a fledgling novice Witcher with no significant connections or wealth. It was too early to discuss such matters at this stage. But when he possessed enough influence and strength in the future, Wayne was determined to explore this aspect, enhancing the system's convenience and accelerating its growth.

After dressing, Wayne divided the money bag containing over 500 ducats he had obtained the previous night. He put a portion of the coins into another money bag and hung it on his belt. However, the purse was still too heavy, making it quite conspicuous. It pulled his belt crookedly, giving him a somewhat awkward appearance.

Wayne put on his coat, concealed the money bag within the large coat, and bent over to push open the curtain of the tent, peering outside. In the dim underground ruins, the residents in the opposite camp were already bustling with activity. The slender Toruviel sat by the campfire, holding a square whetstone and polishing a beautiful one-handed sword.

After last night's conversation, the relationship between Wayne and Toruviel was no longer as unfamiliar as before. Wayne, who had always been socially adept, took the initiative to sit opposite Toruviel. With a smile on his face, he looked at the female elf and said directly, "Toruviel, I have a small favor to ask. Can you help me?"

Toruviel's hand, which was sharpening the blade, paused for a moment. She looked up into Wayne's eyes and replied, "I might be able to help you, Wayne, but I need more details. Without a clear understanding, I can't promise anything."

Wayne didn't hesitate and asked directly, "It's a small thing. Do you have any spare horses here? I'd like to buy one."

Toruviel thought for a moment, nodded, and said, "Indeed, we have a few good horses that we took from Kaedwen's soldiers. They're being kept in the forest outside the cave. I can give you one if you really want it."

"But now, we are being hunted by Kaedwen's soldiers, and coins are not of much use to us. Consider it as part of the reward for exploring the ruins this time, and we'll consider it credited to you."

Wayne was a little surprised when he heard that. According to what he learned from Geralt, a good horse for traveling was probably worth around 1,500 ducats. In this era, it was considered a relatively precious commodity.

It seemed that Toruviel attached great importance to the commission of cleaning up the ruins and was willing to pay much more generously than those villagers. However, Wayne was not a man who liked to take advantage of others when it came to material things. Instead of obtaining a horse for nothing, he preferred to earn it through the spoils in the elven ruins.

Wayne reached out, took down the heavy money bag hanging from his belt, and placed it in front of Toruviel. In a persuasive tone, he said, "No, Toruviel, you need money more than you think. There are 1,000 ducats here, which should be the market price of horses in human towns. As for the role of money, Toruviel, you underestimate its power."

"Didn't you notice? In human society, money is almost omnipotent. It allows you to buy the supplies you need to survive in the city, purchase weapons and equipment for combat, bribe city guards, and even rescue non-human compatriots in prison."

"As long as you have enough wealth, you can even hire a mercenary army to help you defeat the armies of other kingdoms on the battlefield. Just like the Kingdom of Kovir—its immense wealth has made it nearly invincible, thwarting many kingdoms that sought to conquer it."

Toruviel considered Wayne's words carefully. "So, with enough money, we could improve our situation and better resist the persecution from Kaedwen and other human forces? But those human merchants, city guards, or mercenary legions can't be trusted. They might defraud us of our coins or even betray our whereabouts to the nobles. Many of our non-human compatriots were betrayed by their neighbors and friends."

"Humans cannot be trusted."

Regarding this, Wayne thought that Toruviel's perspective was somewhat limited. He extended his hand, took the whetstone from the elf, and drew the steel sword from his back. With careful precision, he polished the blade by the campfire while expressing his thoughts.

"In such situations, there are actually numerous options available. Whether it involves transporting goods from a nation that harbors no animosity towards non-humans, seeking out a reliable merchant to procure supplies, or even exerting influence through coercion and enticement by manipulating a pawn, there are several effective methods."

"Furthermore, don't elves possess magic? You could commission them to create magical items capable of concealing elven features, allowing you to disguise yourselves as humans and engage in commerce within the towns."

"There are numerous ways to accomplish a goal; it simply depends on whether you think of them or not."

As Toruviel's eyes brightened with new possibilities, Wayne smiled and added, "I'll be around during the cleanup of these ruins. If you have any matters or questions to discuss, feel free to consult me."

Toruviel smiled back at Wayne, stood up, and pointed to the exit of the cave. "Thank you, Wayne. During this time, I'll likely ask for your advice often. I've accepted your money, so let's go outside and look at the horses. You can pick whichever one you want."

When Geralt awoke in Misha's living room, the sun had just crossed the Blue Mountains, casting its rays upon the ground. The previous night, after resolving Misha's commission, he dealt with a few troublemakers who sought to provoke him, ultimately receiving the rightful reward from the bearded village chief who had attempted to delay payment. The intense activities throughout the day had left his body thoroughly exhausted, making it impossible for him to venture into the forest overnight to rendezvous with Wayne. However, driven by a sense of responsibility for his only Witcher apprentice in decades, the White Wolf seized the opportunity presented by the early spring cold wind and stealthily entered the forest just before dawn.

After leading his mount and traversing the mountain road through the forest for two hours, his clothes and hair became saturated with the cold morning dew. His body shivered slightly from the chill. Upon reaching the vicinity of the cave he had discovered the previous day, the scene that unfolded left him utterly astonished. Before him, Wayne—the boy who had given him so much concern the night before—was strolling leisurely through the forest. He was accompanied by the enchanting female elf he had encountered the previous day. They were seated together on a black steed, displaying an intimate demeanor.

Adding to Geralt's irritation, that troublesome boy had one arm casually draped around the elf's slender waist, while the other confidently held the steed's reins. Spotting Geralt, Wayne didn't exhibit a hint of guilt; instead, he wore a cheeky grin and rode straight over to him.

"Geralt, it's really early for you to come. This horse is a gift from Toruviel, and she's teaching me how to ride."

Upon hearing Wayne's words, Geralt's surprise deepened. In this era, a fine horse was a prized possession, and it was nearly unheard of for anyone outside of nobility to generously gift one to another. However, as he observed Wayne's smiling countenance, Geralt couldn't suppress his annoyance. In a slightly mocking tone, he retorted, "It looks like you had quite a night. I bet it was much more enjoyable than my time at the farmer's house, surrounded by the aroma of manure and feasting on bread."

Over the course of a single night, his apprentice managed to build a positive rapport with the female elf leader and even received such a generous gift. There had to be an untold tale behind it all. With these thoughts, even the chill in the air was momentarily overlooked by him.

Toruviel frowned upon hearing Geralt's words but chose not to expose Wayne's lie, as they had agreed earlier. Although she wasn't sure why Wayne would conceal the money from Geralt, she refrained from intervening, not wanting to disrupt the relationship between the two.

Wayne intended to say more, but when he observed Geralt's damp hair, the lingering dew on his body, and the slight shivering from the cold, he immediately grasped why the White Wolf had arrived so early and why he appeared in such a state of urgency. This realization warmed his heart. He dismounted, landed beside Geralt, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Toruviel is a wise leader, far superior to those impolite and cunning troublemakers. Let's head to the cave first. There's a bonfire in the camp, and they have a decent breakfast there. We can discuss the entrusted matter there."

After half an hour, the three gathered around a bonfire, enjoying the warmth brought by the flames, while discussing softly the issue of the elf ruins. Geralt leaned forward, propped his chin on one hand, and stirred the bonfire with a piece of firewood in the other. He said in a hoarse voice, "Wayne, Toruviel, cleaning up an underground ruin is not an easy task."

"I once undertook a similar commission. On that occasion, it took me half a month to eliminate hundreds of monsters before I cleared out a small underground temple. Ghouls, drowners, malevolent spirits, foglers. There are countless monsters residing in the underground environment. We cannot be certain about the types of monsters we will encounter during the cleaning process."

Wayne nodded upon hearing this, took the cider jug handed to him by Toruviel, and poured a glass for Geralt beside him before saying, "That's not a problem, Geralt. We are Witchers, and we have enough time to clean up the ruins. Toruviel is willing to provide all assistance and doesn't force us to complete the task in a short period. They can even send their fighters to help us."

He turned his head and exchanged glances with the female elf leader, telling Geralt the terms they had negotiated earlier. "After the task is completed, Toruviel is willing to pay us in ducats or offer a quarter of the spoils in the ruins."

"It's a substantial amount, enough to sustain us for a considerable period."

After hearing about such a generous reward, Geralt pursed his lips and looked up at Wayne. Observing that his junior seemed determined, he refrained from expressing any objections. This assignment was initially within the acceptable scope for a Witcher, and the remuneration offered was indeed generous. However, due to its inherent dangers and Geralt's concerns for Wayne's safety, he had initially been quite hesitant. If it had been just him, he might have agreed to it long ago.

Geralt sighed insignificantly and said to Wayne, "Alright, Wayne, later I'll head into the forest to gather herbs, slay a few monsters on the way, and replenish our potion supplies. Don't be idle; get the tools needed for potion brewing ready. Then, head to the camp and inquire if they have silver. Find a way to coat your steel sword with a layer of silver plating. There are so many monsters in the ruins, only by using the silver sword can we inflict maximum damage on them."

After Geralt finished speaking, Toruviel added, "Don't worry, White Wolf, Wayne has already discussed this matter with me before. I've requested the blacksmith Vixon in the camp to prepare iron felts and stoves. Everyone should have some silver ornaments on hand. While the conditions might be modest, his skills are quite good, and he should be able to provide some help."

Hearing this, Geralt couldn't help but nod slightly. To be honest, in his career as a Witcher, he had rarely encountered an employer who was willing to support their work and cooperate with them in preparing for the task. Indeed, the life of a Witcher would be significantly easier if every employer were as cooperative and understanding as Toruviel. The support and preparation offered by the elf leader demonstrated a level of consideration that was not always common in their line of work. In most cases, Witchers had to contend with various challenges, ranging from uncooperative employers to hostile environments. Toruviel's approach, therefore, was a refreshing change for Wayne and Geralt.

Geralt pursed his lips, tasted the sweet cider in his hand, and closed his eyes, enjoying it. "Let's proceed with that plan, Wayne. Toruviel, let's take a break today and focus on making all the pre-war preparations. Tomorrow at dawn, we'll commence the task of cleaning up the ruins."

After discussing the details of exploring the ruins, Wayne and Geralt headed to the forest to gather the materials required for potions. Wayne was still a novice in this field, with most of his experience confined to the herbs and monsters around Kaer Morhen. For everything else, he relied on Geralt, the experienced Witcher, to guide him through both theory and practice.

Though Wayne had accumulated considerable knowledge about monsters and herbs from books during his two years at Kaer Morhen, applying that knowledge in the field was a different challenge altogether.

While collecting herbs, the duo also scouted various terrains for signs of monsters. Toruviel, having no specific task at hand, took the initiative to guide them through the forest.

It must be acknowledged that the elves are highly adept at navigating and fighting in forests. With their natural sensitivity and keen senses, and after specific training, they become proficient archers.

Toruviel, leading this group of non-human races, stood out as the most formidable in terms of combat prowess. She excelled not only as a skilled swordswoman but also as a marksman with exceptional accuracy.

The trio traversed the forest, swiftly completing their collection task. Toruviel's impressive performance showcased the combat capabilities inherent in the non-human races, leaving Wayne with a newfound appreciation for their fighting potential.

He was confident in his ability to deal with a dozen armed bandits at once, but he was not so sure he could face the same number of elves in the forest.

Bows and arrows hidden in the shadows are far more threatening than gleaming swords.

Upon returning to the camp, Wayne, in high spirits, took charge of the cooking. He transformed the game they had hunted during their mission into a hearty pot of vegetable stew and various robust dishes, inviting everyone in the camp to savor the meal.

Undoubtedly, Wayne's cooking skills, coupled with culinary knowledge from modern Earth, far beyond the Middle Ages, successfully won over everyone's appetite. Even the usually indifferent female elf leader indulged in an extra bowl.

Taking advantage of the pleasant atmosphere, Toruviel decided to hold a small bonfire gathering. Men, women, young and old, representing various non-human races, gathered together.

They laughed, enjoyed delicious food, drank fine wine, and shared their hopes for the future. This event significantly boosted the morale and cohesion of the entire camp.

After a short period of joy, time soon came for the next day, and the mission to clean up the ruins officially began.

There were five members in the team exploring the ruins this time. Alongside the two Witchers, Wayne and Geralt, Toruviel also brought a male elf marksman and a dwarf warrior clad in heavy armor.

According to their discussions, handling monsters was not suitable for ordinary individuals. Toruviel and her two fighters were only responsible for following Wayne and Geralt, handling the corpses of monsters, and preventing accidents. Geralt and Wayne were the main force in clearing the ruins. Before officially entering the ruins, they had to perform a necessary preparatory ritual exclusive to Witchers.

Geralt and Wayne sat cross-legged at the entrance of the ruins. In front of them were five types of glass bottles, more than a dozen in total. These bottles contained Witcher potions of various colors.

"Cat Potion, Thunderbolt, Swallow, Tawny Owl, and Maribor Forest," Geralt said, pointing to the potions.

"Remember their effects well. You can choose which ones to drink, Wayne, but be mindful of your limits. I don't want to bury a body poisoned by potions before the battle even begins."

After speaking, Geralt took a bottle of each potion, as if he were drinking alcohol, and downed one every half minute. He then closed his eyes and entered a meditative state.

Having been a Witcher for more than 70 years, Geralt possessed the deepest mutations among all Witchers of the Wolf School. He had the best physical resilience and could withstand the strongest poisons. Drinking five bottles of potions at the same time wasn't even his limit.

However, Wayne, sitting across from him, knew that without any additional blessings, his mutations were probably among the most pronounced among the Wolf School Witchers. But in the past two years, he had only ever consumed one potion at a time. He was well aware of his poison resistance limit. Three potions were his maximum.

After considering his options, Wayne reached out and selected the Cat Potion, Swallow, and Tawny Owl.

These three potions would enhance his night vision, recovery abilities, and the regeneration of his magical energy, respectively.

In the dark environment of the underground ruins, the Cat Potion was essential, and the other two would bolster his magical abilities. With his decision made, Wayne no longer hesitated, downing the three potions and then meditating.

The taste of the potions was dreadful; most contained the tissue of monsters, and the flavor could only be described as indescribable.

But dealing with monsters was dangerous work, and a single mistake could be fatal. To improve their chances of survival, Witchers had to endure these terrible potions. Ten minutes later, both Geralt and Wayne finished their meditation, and the potions had fully integrated into their systems, enhancing their physical abilities.

This enhancement left both of them with pale faces, black veins protruding from their skin, and their once-amber pupils turned entirely black, giving them an eerie and terrifying appearance. This shocking transformation startled Toruviel and her two subordinates, who had been waiting nearby.

However, being long-lived races, they had all heard of Witchers' deeds. Though surprised, they quickly composed themselves, displaying a resilience not found in many human employers.

With preparations complete, Wayne and Geralt, without further communication, gripped their silver swords and activated Quen shields. They walked side by side through the gate guarded by soldiers, adopting a cautious approach.

Beyond the gate lay a corridor, designed in the elven style. The walls and ceiling were adorned with intricate carvings, though many sculptures showed signs of weathering, imparting a sense of history's passage.

However, Wayne and Geralt paid little attention to the sculptures. After walking forty to fifty meters down the corridor, they noticed relatively new footprints in their dark vision.

Geralt cautiously observed the ceiling and surroundings before squatting down to inspect the footprints closely.

Someone had recently entered the ruin, leaving behind these noticeable tracks in the dust.

After a minute of observation, Geralt stood up and said to Wayne, "These are drowner footprints. Be prepared; there are a lot of them. We might encounter them at the end of this corridor."

Upon hearing Geralt's conclusion, Wayne immediately perked up. He promptly executed an inverted triangle gesture with his left hand, reinforcing his Quen Sign with an additional layer. From his perspective, drowners weren't particularly terrifying, but they posed a considerable challenge.

In areas with dense fog, there was a likelihood of encountering foglers. These creatures could be found in swamps, mountain passes, rivers, and lakes. Even in the absence of natural fog, foglers had the ability to generate or summon dense fog on their own. The thick fog served a dual purpose for the foglers: not only did it conceal the creature itself, but also its weaponry. These beings adeptly manipulated the fog, rendering travelers unseen and unheard.

Much like glowworms, foglers emitted a faint light, drawing the lost into their lairs situated in swamps, caves, or ravines. Resembling goblins but even more grotesque, they possessed sharp claws and powerful arms, capable of inflicting more damage than a swung knife. Adding to the challenge, foglers boasted intelligence surpassing that of drowners. They excelled in deception, seduction, and confusion, making them adept at manipulating and confounding individuals. Often, foglers didn't need to resort to direct attacks; instead, they could drive their prey to madness, leading them into swamps and patiently waiting for their demise as they succumbed to the water.

Recalling the knowledge documented in his book, Wayne trailed behind Geralt, tracking the footprints on the ground. Before long, they reached the end of the corridor, where a gate stood adorned with intricate statues. Beyond the gate lay darkness.

However, under the witcher's heightened vision, both Wayne and Geralt could clearly see that there was a spacious viewing platform connected to the door. Positioned at the center of the platform was a nearly 20-meter-long arched stone bridge.

Before they got close, the two could hear the faint sound of running water coming from the stone bridge and the platform, as well as the unique croaking sounds of drowners when they talked and moved.

Realizing they were approaching the monsters, both slowed their movements, concentrated their minds, and moved cautiously towards the periphery of the platform.

When they reached the edge of the platform surrounded by marble railings, a chilling scene unfolded before their eyes. Beneath the arched bridge, a huge pond reminiscent of an ornamental pond came into view. The surroundings exhibited signs of professional design, with the pond's end connecting to a flowing underground river. A continuous influx of clean water ensured that the water level remained consistently at half a person's height. Some ornamental plants that could survive in a dark environment grew luxuriantly, enhancing the ambiance of the area.

However, due to long-term neglect and the special terrain, dozens of drowners, large and small, had gathered in the pond. They seemed to regard this place as a nest and were running around happily and freely.

Seeing this, Wayne gasped. Although drowners were not considered powerful monsters, dealing with them in such large numbers was no easy feat.

Geralt, seemingly accustomed to facing challenges, remained expressionless. He glanced back at Wayne, gesturing towards the marble railing of the platform and indicating the exits on both sides leading away from the pond. He assumed a defensive posture.

Understanding Geralt's signal, Wayne quickly grasped the situation. There was a gap of several meters between the platform they were standing on and the bottom of the pond. With the drowner's jumping ability, it was impossible for them to climb onto the platform from their positions.

Recognizing the advantage of the terrain, Wayne and Geralt positioned themselves to guard the two narrow stairs on the edge of the platform. By doing so, they aimed to exploit the landscape and restrict the number of enemies they would confront at any given time to one or two. Wayne nodded to Geralt and then gestured towards the staircase on the right, indicating that he would take responsibility for defending that side.

But as he took up his position, his heartbeat quickened. This was the first time he faced so many monsters. In the past, he rarely dealt with multiple enemies at once. It would be a lie to say he wasn't afraid, but alongside his fear, he was also excited.

He stood at the entrance above the stairs, looked at the dozens of drowners in the pond, and after a few seconds of consideration, he chose the strongest one among them. He made a gesture of the Axi Sign with his left-hand fingers facing the air, held his breath, and gently pushed forward.

An invisible wave shot out from Wayne's finger and rushed into the brain of the strong drowner.

The drowner, that had been running, stopped immediately as Wayne applied the Axi Sign. After a moment of apparent confusion, it shook its head, emitting a fierce roar. Raising its sharp claws, it viciously seized the one nearest to it, showcasing a sudden change in its behavior.

A sharp squeak filled the air, accompanied by a splatter of blood. The targeted drowner, displaying remarkable strength, executed a swift and unexpected attack. Its claws pierced directly into the stomach of another drowner, tearing open its belly and exposing all its internal organs.

However, the vitality of the drowner was quite impressive; even after sustaining a fatal injury, it did not succumb immediately. Though the reason for its companion's sudden attack remained unclear, the inherent aggression within its body propelled the injured drowner to retaliate fiercely.

Acting on instinct, the drowner, devoid of contemplation, seized the powerful drowner by the neck with its sharp claws. It slashed open the flesh and blood vessels, causing a torrent of blood to gush out and drench its own body. Without hesitation, the surrounding drowners joined the frenzy. Ignoring the reasons behind their companion's sudden attack, they charged forward, tearing the powerful drowner into countless pieces.

Eliminating the two drowners brought a surge of excitement to Wayne. However, just as he continued to use the Axi Sign once more and replicate his earlier success, one of the drowners in the pond had already spotted him.

The roar of the drowner that had spotted Wayne triggered chaos throughout the entire pond. Nearly every drowner sensed that an enemy had entered their territory, scrambling on all fours in heightened excitement as they surged toward Wayne's position.

Yet, Wayne wasn't alone in this battle. Geralt, stationed at the stairs on the left, recognized Wayne's initiation of the attack. Mimicking the Axi Sign, he redirected a drowner that was charging towards Wayne, compelling it to turn back and attack its own companion.

Although the drowner was instantly dismembered by its companions, Geralt's actions successfully separated half of the enemies. But even so, Wayne still saw nearly 30 of them running towards his position. If they were all squeezed onto the stairs, using the silver sword to attack them would be a grueling and prolonged battle.

Perhaps offense is the best defense.

This thought flashed through Wayne's mind. He turned over and stood on the railing of the platform, reached out, and took out a apple-sized bomb from his pocket, then threw it towards the center of the drowners.

The moment the bomb fell into the group of drowners, his right hand suddenly pushed forward, and an orange flame instantly enveloped the bomb and the drowners around it.

Bang!!

Under the shroud of flames, the bomb exploded suddenly, seriously injuring five drowners around it. The shockwave from the explosion blasted more of them away from their original places, rolling on the ground and successfully destroying their momentum of swarming over.

The battle unfolded smoothly as the bomb and the charged Igni Sign tore the drowners apart. This combination successfully eliminated five or six of the drowners. However, the less intelligent the creatures were, the less capable they were of assessing the strength gap between the two sides.

Those drowners who were not affected by the explosion and flames continued to advance with relentless ferocity, bypassing their seriously injured companions and rushing towards Wayne with teeth and claws.

Wayne jumped off the railing and returned to the top of the stairs. Instead of immediately raising his sword to defend himself, he took a few steps to the exit of the stairs, formed a seal with one hand, and sign a magic trap at the exit. The ground was instantly adorned with a magical circle, emanating a purple radiance. Standing within it, Wayne felt no discomfort, but any drowners that entered would be affected. The magic circle bound them with magical power, significantly slowing their movement.

While the Sign itself didn't inflict direct damage, its special effect was highly suitable for defensive operations in this advantageous terrain. It was the preferred choice for Witchers dealing with ghosts, spirits, and other nimble and fast monsters.

The only regret was that, due to limited materials, both Geralt and Wayne had only one bomb each. Otherwise, burying a few on this path the monsters must pass through might have killed most of them.

Wayne calmly waited for the monsters when he suddenly heard a loud explosion behind him. A quick glance revealed that Geralt had used a similar method, getting the bomb into the drowners and detonating it. Despite Geralt's Igni Sign not having the reach of Wayne's, he patiently waited until the drowners were close to the stairs. At that moment, he ignited the fuse and dropped the bomb, catching himself in the blast. The force of the explosion sent mud, river water, and the flesh and blood of a few unfortunate drowners flying everywhere, drenching Geralt thoroughly.

Regardless of how embarrassing it was, once the explosion was over and the drowners swarmed up the stairs, Wayne and Geralt had no choice but to wield their weapons and engage in combat against these foul-smelling monsters.

As a seasoned veteran, Geralt was accustomed to such battles. Unfazed by the mud and blood splattered on his body, he leaped towards a charging drowner, deflecting its reaching arm with his shoulder. Raising his silver sword, he slashed down towards its head. The silver sword in the White Wolf's hand emitted a faint glow. It was an elegant and slender blade adorned with various mysterious inscriptions. When it cleaved through the drowner's face, encountering minimal resistance, half of its head was severed instantly.

Having successfully dispatched one of them with a single strike, Geralt wasted no time. He pivoted to evade the pounce of another drowner. The silver sword traced a flawless arc, slashing through the chest. The razor-sharp blade carved a wound over a meter long in the drowner's chest cavity. The immense force sent it plummeting to the ground in agony. Even through the gash, the still-beating internal organs were visible.

However, more of them surged up the stairs. Unconcerned about their fallen companions, they extended their claws, roared, and closed in on Geralt, forming a menacing circle around him. Despite Geralt's adept dodges, the sheer number of monsters surrounding him restricted his movement space. He found himself frequently casting the Quen Sign while skillfully dodging. The monsters surrounding him fell one by one, each succumbing to the precision of his blade. Yet, as the battle raged on, the relentless advance of the drowners posed an ongoing challenge, demanding every ounce of Geralt's prowess.

Fortunately, while these drowners were formidable, they ranked among the lower tiers of monsters. Although their claws could grip human flesh, they were incapable of penetrating metal armor.

Wayne's battle situation was different. When drowners rushed up the stairs in a crowded mass, the first thing they encountered was the Arden trap for slowing down. Wayne positioned himself at the center of the trap, avoiding direct contact with the drowners. Relying on his agility, he evaded attacks whenever a drowner breached the trap to reach him.

Observing the opportune moment, when two or three drowners entered the magic circle, Wayne extended his left hand. Channeling his magic, he used a powerful Aard Sign that had been strengthened by accumulated power, sending the drowners flying towards the rocky wall and causing their thin, small bodies to slam into it fiercely.

Of course, this roundabout way of fighting not only took a long time but also consumed his magical energy, which was not ideal for most Witchers. However, with the blessing of the Swallow Potion and the Tawny Owl Potion coursing through his veins, Wayne's magic power was at an optimal level. This surplus allowed him to use the Axii Sign strategically, confusing one or two drowners and inducing them to turn on each other. This disrupted the attack rhythm of the drowners.

In this way, the high-intensity battle lasted for more than 20 minutes.

Geralt, who chose to fight hand-to-hand, ended the battle first. Panting heavily, he clamped the silver sword covered in blood and filth under his arm and wiped it clean. He then walked towards Wayne, who was still engaged in combat.

As Geralt neared Wayne, the battle at this end was drawing to a close. One of the last three drowners fell under the sway of Wayne's Axii Sign. Disregarding the imminent danger of its belly being ripped open, it sank its teeth into its fellow companion.

But Wayne, the master controlling it, showed no mercy. He used a powerful Igni Sign, enveloping the three drowners in fierce flames. Driven by an instinctive fear of flames and high temperatures, the drowner with its torn-apart stomach wrestled free from the Axii Sign's control. Enveloped in flames, it thrashed and screamed in wild desperation. However, before the inferno could consume it entirely, a silver sword swiftly thrust into its eye socket turned the brain inside its skull into a paste.

Geralt stood aside, watching Wayne's battle. When he saw that Wayne, though covered in dust, bore no signs of having been hit by the monsters, he couldn't help but admire him. "Wayne, I have to commend you for your prudence and careful approach."

Rubbing his ribs, which had been bruised by the drowners' assaults, Geralt grinned through the pain. "Even an old Witcher like me can end up beaten all over when facing so many monsters. But you emerging unscathed from such a fierce battle is certainly commendable."

Hearing Geralt's approval, Wayne turned his head and wiped the dust off his face with his hands. He grinned and was about to exchange a few words with Geralt when he suddenly focused his eyes and noticed a cloud of fuzzy, hazy gas behind Geralt. A hunchbacked, ugly monster with strong limbs and sharp claws emerged from the gas.

Before the White Wolf could react, the monster's sharp claws were already raised high, descending with a speed as if breaking a mountain and cracking a rock.

"Get out of the way! Geralt!"

Wayne instinctively yelled, forming a seal with his left hand and thrusting it forward. The seal struck the suddenly appearing monster. The attack unfolded with startling speed. Despite Geralt's attempt to dodge and avoid the lethal strike aimed at his neck, he still took a severe blow from the claw on his back.

"What!"

With a scream, the famous White Wolf Geralt was ruthlessly sent flying.

Although it was just a brief glance, Wayne quickly deduced that the monster that had attacked Geralt was a Fogler.

Geralt had not anticipated that, while pushing his body to the limit to eliminate the drowners, a Fogler had been lurking nearby. Seizing the opportunity, it managed to ambush him. The darkness of the surroundings contributed to this surprise. Even though the Cat Potion enhanced their night vision, enabling them to see in low light, their vision remained almost monochromatic, making it difficult to discern the mist in the darkness clearly. This made the Fogler nearly invisible.

To be cautious, Wayne refrained from immediately approaching Geralt, who had been thrown into the air. Instead, he promptly activated the remaining magic power within him and enveloped himself with a Quen Sign.

In the intense battle over the past half-hour, Wayne had cast nearly thirty spells—a feat rarely accomplished by any Witcher. In addition to his natural talent, system bonuses, and potions, the Doran Ring he acquired the previous day played a crucial role. The ring provided mana recovery with each enemy he defeated, significantly enhancing his endurance. This allowed him to handle the group of drowners, a challenge even the seasoned White Wolf, Geralt, had to approach with caution, showcasing Wayne's prowess as a Witcher.

Wayne breathed a sigh of relief after adding a layer of protection. Upon looking up, he noticed that the Fogler, which had been launched into the air by his Aard Sign, had seamlessly blended into the mist upon landing, escaping his sight. This type of monster is quite troublesome. Apart from staying highly vigilant, the best strategy is to wait for it to reveal itself before dealing with it. As a last resort, he could only give up on chasing the enemy. He walked over to Geralt's side and began to check his injuries.

Geralt seemed stunned by the powerful sneak attack. He placed his hands on the ground, spat out a mouthful of blood, and trembled slightly as he tried to support himself but failed.

Seeing Wayne approach, Geralt reached out and grasped Wayne's extended arm, using it as leverage to stand up. "How are you holding up, Geralt? Are your injuries manageable?"

Witnessing Wayne's concerned expression, Geralt managed a wry smile. Physical pain had become a familiar companion to him, but the embarrassment of being injured in front of the young Witcher made the famous White Wolf feel slightly uneasy. He shook his head lightly and said in a hoarse voice, "My armor wasn't penetrated, but I've got some internal injuries. Nothing too severe. Just be cautious; these Foglars are stronger and craftier. It hasn't left; the battle is far from over."

Upon confirming that Geralt was fine, Wayne breathed a sigh of relief but couldn't shake off a lingering sense of vigilance. Although it was common for Witchers to be injured, he never expected that even a veteran like Geralt would struggle against an ordinary Foglar. This realization heightened his awareness of the potential danger when facing more powerful monsters or adversaries.

Considering this, Wayne tempered the arrogance that arose from his victory over the drowners. He redirected his focus to perceive the environment around him. Despite his system abilities, his defensive power was not stronger than Geralt's. If he had been hit by the sneak attack, he likely wouldn't fare any better than Geralt.

Monsters are creatures of instinct. While the Foglar may possess an inherent cunning nature, its dominion over the underground ruins had likely left it devoid of fear or the concept of retreat. Struck into the air by Wayne's Aard Sign, the Foglar was far from restrained; instead, it seemed more determined to launch a fierce counterattack. This allowed Wayne, who had calmed down, to discover its traces. The Foglar, displaying a level of cunning, had covered itself in mist, silently approaching the vulnerable Geralt from behind. It seemed intent on exploiting the opportunity to launch a lethal attack on the already injured target.

But Wayne didn't give it another chance. He released Geralt's arm and turned back with a charged Axii Sign, freezing the Foglar's movement momentarily. He then lunged forward with his sword, piercing through the Foglar's throat.

Despite the piercing blow to its throat, the monster exhibited remarkable resilience, showing no immediate signs of weakening. Undeterred by its injuries, the Foglar unleashed a fierce roar, slashing at Wayne's sword-wielding right hand. In response, Wayne opted not to engage in a direct confrontation. Instead, he released his grip on the silver sword, rolled to the side to evade the creature's sharp claws, and swiftly repositioned himself at the Foglar's flank.

He didn't give the monster a chance to hide itself again in the mist. After stabilizing his stance, he rushed towards the Foglar, skillfully evading its slashing claws. Grasping the hilt of the sword again, he used his body's momentum to violently twist it, severing the Foglar's head.

The decapitated monster spewed a large amount of blood, spraying everywhere like a fountain. The Foglar's body froze for a few seconds, as if it had lost its support, and then fell on its back, completely silenced.

Seeing that the enemy had been entirely defeated, Wayne shook off the blood on the silver sword and approached Geralt, extending a hand to offer support.

"Alright, Wayne. Let's head back to camp. The healer there should be able to patch me up," Geralt said with a wry smile, not attempting to downplay his injuries. As a seasoned Witcher, Geralt recognized the importance of preserving one's life over any commission. Even with his injuries, he felt the need to maintain a certain level of pride and dignity.

Wayne nodded, respecting Geralt's desire to maintain his independence despite the injuries. They began their journey back to the camp, with Wayne keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, knowing that more challenges might lie ahead in the depths of the elven ruins.

Geralt, trembling as he walked alongside Wayne through the dark corridor, was immediately greeted by Toruviel, the gatekeeper. Her solemn expression conveyed concern as her eyes scanned Wayne's body, and a sigh of relief escaped her when she observed that he bore no obvious injuries.

Though separated by the corridor, they could still hear the echoes of explosions and the frantic roars of monsters, creating a chaotic and unsettling atmosphere. The battle had clearly been more intense than they had imagined.

Upon seeing Toruviel, Wayne skipped the formalities and directly addressed the elven leader. "Toruviel, Geralt has sustained minor injuries. Please have the camp doctor tend to him."

He then gestured towards the two subordinates standing beside her. "Organize a group, take torches, and head to the location where I recently fought. Retrieve the corpses; the scent of blood is too strong there. If left unattended, it will likely attract more monsters."

Toruviel nodded, then turned to whisper a few words in Elvish to the elf marksman beside her. Facing Wayne again, she assured, "I've made the arrangements, Wayne. Let's proceed to the location."

Upon hearing this, Wayne wasted no time. He promptly turned around, leading both Toruviel and the heavily armored dwarf warrior back through the corridor to return to the underground pond.

This time, they didn't venture forward in darkness; instead, Toruviel and the dwarf warrior held torches to illuminate the path, while Wayne, wielding a silver sword, took point to guard against any potential threats.

When they passed through the arch and reached the pond's terrace, both Toruviel and the dwarf warrior gasped at the scene before them. The semi-circular terrace was covered in blood and severed limbs, with a thick stench hanging in the air. Dozens of drowned corpses lay scattered across the ground.

Judging by the sword and flame marks on the bodies, it was clear that Geralt and Wayne had killed them all. Though briefly shocked, Toruviel quickly regained her composure. Suppressing her emotions, she scrutinized Wayne more intently and asked, "Wayne, what should we do now?"

Wayne remained vigilant. Although the fogler that attacked Geralt had been beheaded by him, the pond area was large, and he wasn't sure if other foglers were lurking nearby.

Hearing Toruviel's question, he considered it for a few moments before responding, "Retrieve the corpses of these monsters first. It's advisable to burn them; however, if you opt to bury them, make sure it's at a greater distance. Otherwise, their bodies might attract subterranean creatures."

He continued, "Also, bring more lighting tools. The other side of this arch bridge connects to another area. You should have people guard the gate to prevent other monsters from rushing out."

"I want to check all the entrances and exits here to ensure no monsters emerge unexpectedly in the future."

The elven leader nodded, taking Wayne's instructions to heart and preparing to arrange for someone to handle the tasks. She felt fortunate that she had encountered Wayne and Geralt when she did. Had they not been there, the monsters could have caused significant casualties.

After about ten minutes, the elven sharpshooter arrived with a dozen soldiers. Initially surprised by the number of monster corpses, they quickly got to work, carrying the bodies out one by one under Toruviel's command.

In this era, burning corpses had become customary. It was common knowledge in the Northern Kingdoms that leaving corpses untreated or buried in the soil would soon attract malevolent spirits, ghouls, and other corpse-eating creatures, posing a threat to the living.

No one knew how many monsters lurked in the unexplored underground areas, and light and flames could help drive them away. This might be one of the reasons for the widespread influence of the Church of Eternal Fire among the common folk.

However, concerned that the smoke from burning corpses might reveal their location, Toruviel ultimately decided to have the bodies transported to the depths of the forest. This way, the monsters could return to nature without drawing unwanted attention.

A dedicated group of individuals busily performed their duties. While Wayne's fight had lasted less than half an hour, three or four hours had passed by the time they had dealt with the corpses, searched the entire underground pond, and ensured the area was secure.

As the day's work came to an end, Wayne bid farewell and continued organizing affairs. Toruviel, fatigued from the day's activities, returned to the camp intending to find Geralt. To her surprise, she saw the Witcher sitting opposite a dwarf by the campfire, fiddling with something.

They were surrounded by several elves and dwarves. Wayne approached to get a closer look. He noticed Geralt was swathed in multiple layers of bandages and a thick black padded jacket. Despite this, Geralt was engrossed in examining a set of intricate cards in his hands, deliberating over which one to play.

The dwarf opposite him also looked at Geralt nervously. The cards between them were neatly arranged in six rows, with seven or eight ducat gold coins stacked together in the center. It was clear they were betting.

The enthralled onlookers eagerly watched the unfolding card game, excitement and anticipation palpable in the air. It was evident that this particular card game, Gwent, held great appeal for the spectators.

Seeing this, Wayne immediately guessed what they were doing. They were playing Gwent. He had originally thought this game hadn't been widely known yet or was merely a pastime among a few dwarves.

The unexpected encounter with Gwent after descending the mountain added a surprising twist to the day. It seemed to be Geralt's first exposure to the game, as Wayne reflected on their two years of companionship at Kaer Morhen, during which Geralt had never mentioned or discussed it.

As Geralt hesitated over his next move, Wayne came up behind him curiously, wanting to see what cards the White Wolf was holding. But after just a few seconds, Wayne, an experienced Gwent player, had already figured out how to win. However, this was Geralt's bet with the dwarf, and Wayne didn't want to interrupt their game.

Perhaps due to the lingering scent of the drowned's blood on him, Wayne was noticed by Geralt as he drew closer. However, the White Wolf, currently in high spirits, merely glanced over and, upon recognizing Wayne, offered a casual nod. He then promptly shifted his focus back to the game.

Regrettably, in a Gwent card duel, success relies on a combination of skill, luck, and a robust deck, with personal will playing a minimal role. Despite Geralt's efforts and a few minutes of strategic struggle, his lack of experience and the dwarf's formidable Gwent cards led to his ultimate defeat. The ducats earned from Misha's entrustment were lost before Geralt had the chance to enjoy the spoils of victory.