4

Wayne frowned at the news, quickly rising from his seat. He pushed aside a drunkard blocking his way, lifted the tapestry at the entrance, and headed to the stable to investigate. Sure enough, his black mare, Lucifer, which he had bought from Toruviel, was gone.

Onlookers glanced discreetly, curious to see Wayne's reaction. Despite maintaining a stoic exterior, Wayne was already cursing internally. How bold of someone to steal his horse, especially in a city where guards were supposed to be vigilant.

A good horse like Lucifer, best among the horses which was captured from royal Khedwan Army, if converted into oren, could easily fetch seven hundred oren—a sum many poor people wouldn't earn in a lifetime.

Wayne was frustrated but not overly concerned. His most valuable possessions were with him. The stolen horse only carried trivial items—herbs he had gathered and the elven bow gifted by Toruviel.

Although Wayne planned to track down the thieves later and ensure they faced the consequences, he remained outwardly composed. Meanwhile, Old Yueke, the tavern's proprietor, came out, quickly piecing together the situation with a casual inspection. Glancing at Wayne, he remarked nonchalantly, "It was probably someone from the Wild Dog Gang."

"You shouldn't ride a horse into the slums. The value of a horse here could change several lives. Those guys would do anything for money."

Old Yueke eyed the steel sword in Wayne's hand and his amber eyes, speaking softly, "And with so many outsiders flooding the city lately, the guards are overwhelmed. If you report the theft, by the time they investigate, your horse will be long gone."

"You either chalk it up to bad luck or prepare some money. You might be able to buy your horse back from the Wild Dog Gang." Wayne raised an eyebrow, slightly amused, "They steal from me and expect me to buy it back? The Wild Dog Gang sure is bold."

Old Yueke frowned, cautioning Wayne, "Young man, I know you probably have some special skills, maybe even swordsmanship, but the Wild Dog Gang has dozens of members, all of them ruthless."

"Their boss, the Dog King, is also skilled at training vicious dogs. Most people wouldn't dare mess with them."

"You don't want to lose your life over a horse."

Wayne nodded without speaking. He noticed the boy who had informed him about the theft had also left the tavern, his thin, ragged figure shivering in the cold wind.

Old Yueke noticed Wayne's gaze, turned to look at the boy, and snorted in disgust, "The child's name is Alex. His only relative died two months ago. Now he's a beggar, surviving only with the help of the nuns."

"He's a good kid, but he made a mistake today." Wayne's expression shifted, understanding Old Yueke's implication. "Will the Wild Dogs take revenge on him? He's just a kid."

Old Yueke spat on the ground, his tone bitter, "Those scoundrels are ruthless, but they won't mess with nobles or the wealthy, so the city guards turn a blind eye. I've seen enough to know—gangs like the Wild Dog Gang don't last. In a few years, they'll be replaced, and those bastards will end up rotting in some ditch, forgotten. It's an endless cycle wherever people gather."

Wayne, growing serious, asked, "Old Yueke, do you remember the half-elf kid who worked in your shop ten years ago?"

Old Yueke turned, squinting at Wayne for a long moment before recognition dawned. "I thought you looked familiar. You're Wayne, right? I remember you—a Witcher now, with those cat-like eyes."

Surprised that the tavern owner recognized him after so many years, Wayne inquired, "You remember me, Old Yueke?"

The tavern owner snorted dismissively, "I've got a good memory. If your mother, Martha, hadn't begged me several times, I wouldn't have taken in a kid like you who couldn't do a damn thing."

Ignoring the gruff tone, Wayne pressed on, "What happened to my mother? Do you know?"

Old Yueke avoided Wayne's gaze, his tone somber. "What could be done? Even the nuns at the Melitele Church couldn't cure her. She passed away within two months of your departure."

"Melissa took care of the burial. Your mother's grave is now in the church cemetery," Old Yueke revealed.

Wayne's expression shifted, stirred by an impulse to visit his mother's grave. He sighed, asking, "Melissa? Aunt Melissa? The one who just served me wine and meat?"

In Wayne's hazy memory, Melissa was a woman with whom his mother had shared a close bond during difficult times—more like mutual support than sisterhood.

Old Yueke, once again disdainful, confirmed, "Five or six years ago, a customer injured her, broke her leg. I took pity on her and took her in. I wouldn't keep someone useless around if I didn't see her working hard."

After gathering the information he needed, Wayne didn't linger in the tavern. He called over the boy named Alex, flipping a golden Oren into his hand. With a warm smile, Wayne then turned to Old Yueke.

"Keep an eye on him for now. I'll deal with the Wild Dog Gang, retrieve my mount, and return to check in with you."

Old Yueke's expression soured, and he snapped irritably, "Young man, why won't you listen? A horse may be valuable, but it's not worth risking your life!"

Wayne chuckled, viewing the situation as unfinished business. He responded with a playful proposition, "Old Yueke, if I manage to take care of the Wild Dogs, you'll owe me the best wine your establishment has to offer. How does that sound?"

Annoyed, Old Yueke cursed loudly, "You stubborn fool! I'm trying to keep you from doing something stupid, but fine, if you're set on this course, no one can stop you. If you really do get rid of them, you can drink for free at my shop. Just hope you Witchers are as good as the stories say."

Ignoring Old Yueke's harsh tone, Wayne accepted the challenge, activating the command [Eliminate Wild Dog Gang]. He waved goodbye, then focused his heightened senses, searching for the scent of his horse, Lucifer, in the air. They had been together for months, and the familiar scent, mixed with herbs he had gathered, was unmistakable.

Following the trail, Wayne soon left the slums of Old Vizima and reached the main road. He was surprised to find the scent leading out of the city instead of into its crowded areas. This development delighted him—if the Wild Dog Gang was outside the city, it would be easier to attack without drawing attention from the city guards.

Quickening his pace, Wayne followed the scent, leaving the old city behind. The guards at the gate, mistaking him for a mercenary, let him pass without issue. Outside the city, Wayne trailed the scent for another seven or eight miles, arriving at a deserted farm. There, he spotted two men in ragged cotton clothes, tattooed and rough-looking, leading Lucifer into the stables. Near the gate, four more men lounged against a wooden wall, armed with crude weapons—sticks, axes, and short knives. A massive, vicious dog sat beside them, its sharp fangs and fierce eyes marking it as a well-trained fighter.

Wayne wasn't intimidated; to him, the dog was no more dangerous than a Drowner. Without wasting time, he retrieved a Devil's Puffball from his bag and threw it into their midst. The bomb exploded with a hiss, releasing a cloud of toxic green smoke. The gang members and their dog, caught off guard, began coughing violently, their eyes burning from the fumes. Within moments, they collapsed, writhing in pain before succumbing to the deadly gas.

The two gang members inside the farm, who had just led Lucifer into the stables, heard the commotion and rushed outside, shouting for backup. Soon, a dozen more gang members, along with a pack of vicious dogs, came pouring out of the farmhouse, weapons at the ready.

Unaware of the danger, a few of the gang members approached the poisonous fog, trying to reach their fallen comrades. Wayne, hidden in the tall grass near the gate, watched them with a cruel smile. He stood up, tracing an upside-down triangle in the air with his left hand before pushing forward. A powerful shockwave burst from his hand, propelling the poisonous mist toward the farm. The gang members, caught in the blast, were knocked to the ground, their cries cut short as Wayne emerged from the fog.

In an instant, Wayne's sword became a blur of motion, slashing through the throats of the fallen gang members. Blood sprayed across the grass as their struggles ceased, leaving them dead in moments.

Wayne flicked his sword, clearing the blood from the blade. Holding the weapon in a defensive stance, he faced the remaining gang members, a cold smile on his lips.

"You bastards," he growled, "consider this your reward for stealing my horse."

Wayne's imposing presence radiated a chilling aura, his every movement laced with a cold, murderous intent that struck fear into the Wild Dog Gang—a group of petty thieves notorious for causing chaos in the market. However, despite Wayne's formidable presence, the gang held a significant numerical advantage. Excluding the seven or eight members who had already fallen to Wayne, around 20 still remained on the farm, and with the vicious dogs under their command, the total number exceeded forty.

With such overwhelming numbers, they could not only encircle and subdue an individual but also potentially devastate an entire village. A burly man with a bald head and a scarred face, wielding a steel knife, seemed to be the de facto leader of the Wild Dog Gang. He was the first to react, quickly grabbing a young man beside him. "Go and inform the boss that a powerful enemy is attacking us. Tell him to come and support us," he ordered.

Having given the command, the bald-headed man shoved the young messenger away, pointed his steel knife at Wayne, and declared, "Don't be afraid! He's alone with just a sword. No matter how strong he is, our sheer numbers will easily overwhelm him. Let's drown him in a sea of our strength. Release the dogs and let them tear him apart!"

At the leader's command, other members of the Wild Dog Gang inserted two fingers into their mouths and emitted a series of loud whistles, rallying themselves for the impending confrontation.

Upon hearing the whistles, the vicious dogs responded as if they had been given a command. Their eyes glowed with ferocity, their movements became more aggressive, and with harsh barks, they surged toward Wayne. Approximately twenty of these trained dogs, nearly as formidable as wild wolves in terms of strength and speed, sprinted on all fours, reaching Wayne in seconds.

However, Wayne was prepared for these wild beasts with their bared teeth and dripping saliva. As the saying goes, fire is a powerful weapon, and these vicious, fur-covered dogs were like torches waiting to be ignited.

Before the Wild Dog Gang members could issue any further orders, Wayne had already gathered magic power in his hands. When four or five of the dogs were within striking distance, he unleashed an Igni Sign, expelling about one-third of his magical energy. Instantly, orange-red flames, suffused with suffocating heat, engulfed the space ten meters in front of Wayne. Not only were the dogs in the immediate vicinity ignited, but even those behind them were caught in the inferno.

Their shiny fur acted as an excellent accelerant, turning them into burning torches within the intense flames. The once-earsplitting barks morphed into desperate howls of agony, and the pungent odor of burnt fur permeated the farm.

Fire, being the bane of all creatures, instilled terror in these animals. Witnessing nearly half of their canine companions reduced to charcoal, the remaining dogs, despite their masters' calls, hesitated to advance. They clamped their tails and restlessly scratched the ground with their paws, refusing to move forward.

Squinting his eyes, Wayne surveyed the aftermath of the Igni Sign with satisfaction. The strengthened supercharged Sign magic demonstrated a destructive power beyond mere trickery, surpassing even the fire spells wielded by sorcerers. If some sorcerers were to witness this scene, they might find themselves astonished.

The Wild Dog Gang members, unaccustomed to the wider world, were terrified by the unfamiliar sight. As urban troublemakers, they had never encountered a genuine spellcaster before, and the formidable power of Wayne's Igni Sign severely undermined their confidence. This ragtag group faced Wayne's swift onslaught, and several members, overwhelmed with fear, dropped their weapons and retreated a few steps.

One member muttered in disbelief, "A sorcerer! It's a sorcerer! Those monsters are here to kill us!" Despite the bravado of the bald man, even he was not unaffected by Wayne's spells. Nervously swallowing, he observed the cowardice of his subordinates, contemplating the impending punishment from their boss for losing the battle.

"Don't be afraid, everyone! Rush forward! He can only cast that spell once. With our numbers, we can easily subdue him," the bald man urged. Seeing the hesitation among his followers, he resorted to threats, saying, "Think about your fate. If you run, the boss will feed you to Hogg afterward!"

The mention of Hogg seemed to strike fear into the hearts of the Wild Dog Gang members. Upon hearing the name, those who had been momentarily distracted regained their courage. A few straightforward individuals raised their weapons and charged toward Wayne with screams.

This time, Wayne chose not to cast another Sign. Instead, he enveloped himself in a Quen shield and faced the approaching attackers. Though the Igni Sign was powerful, Wayne knew the importance of conserving his magical energy, uncertain of the challenges that lay ahead.

The first adversary Wayne confronted was a stout man with a robust physique. Clad in brown leather armor and wielding a mace, the man, accustomed to street fighting, sought to use his bulk to overpower Wayne, who wielded a steel sword.

Wayne steadily took a half-step to the right, evading the attacker's pounce with nimble agility. Simultaneously, his steel sword thrust upward at an angle, piercing directly into the throat of his assailant. The momentum of the staggered body caused the sword to slice through, severing half of the neck in a swift motion.

A middle-aged man, who had been following closely, was momentarily taken aback by Wayne's precise movements. Despite this, he had already rushed in front of Wayne, instinctively raising the axe in his hand and shouting as he brought it down.

Confronted with this unskilled attack, Wayne merely turned sideways without altering his footwork, effortlessly avoiding the axe's trajectory. His steel sword swung mercilessly sideways, severing the man's arms that held the axe. The sword then arced upward, slicing open the man's stomach, leaving him writhing on the ground, clutching his exposed internal organs and howling in misery.

After dispatching two foes in quick succession, Wayne shook off the blood from his sword and advanced expressionlessly toward the remaining members of the Wild Dog Gang.

The third assailant wielded a rusty scythe, likely a former farmer. He bent low, attempting to cut Wayne's legs with the scythe, inadvertently exposing his neck in the process. Wayne showed no mercy; his steel sword moved even faster. Before the scythe could touch his legs, Wayne's sword flashed, swiftly decapitating the man.

As blood sprayed like a fountain onto Wayne's face, a warm sensation stirred destructive desires within him. Wayne's eyes gleamed brightly. Having dealt with three of them consecutively, he found fighting these humans even easier than battling drowners.

The lack of hesitation and fear in a drowner's attacks made them a different breed. The primary difference lay in the fact that the mob before him lacked any professional training, relying solely on instinctive and clumsy attacks. Challenging a sword master with over a decade of training seemed like a mere jest. The swift, clean killings by Wayne struck terror into the remaining gang members, as he dispatched three of them in less than ten seconds.

The efficiency displayed by Wayne was overwhelming for these gangsters, who typically relied on their numbers for blackmail and bullying, shaking their usual bravado to its core. Some gang members experienced dizziness, lingering fear in their hearts, and numbness in their limbs.

However, the bald man, undeterred by the gruesome killings before him, gritted his teeth and locked eyes with Wayne. As a military deserter with battlefield experience, he may not have been particularly brave, but he understood from witnessing wars that swordsmanship masters faced challenges similar to ordinary people when besieged.

Seeing the scattered resolve and unstable morale among his comrades, a mix of timidity and ferocity flashed through the bald man's thoughts. To rally their courage, he raised the steel knife in his hand, exchanged glances with his men, and shouted emphatically, "Hold on! Follow me! The boss will be here soon. When he arrives, this guy will be dead. We'll shatter his bones and tear him to pieces to avenge our fallen brothers!"

After delivering this rallying cry, the bald-headed man felt a surge of determination and took the lead, charging towards Wayne with weapon in hand.

Wayne observed blankly as the bald man led a group rushing towards him. His eyes quickly scanned the battlefield. Noticing that the others were still hesitant and reluctant to advance, he decided to intensify his efforts to break their will to fight.

He extended his left hand and cast the Aard Sign, sending the bald man and two others around him into the air. He then swiftly moved to the spot where the three had fallen, kicking away a man who attempted to intervene and mercilessly slashing the throats of the three with his steel sword. The combination of the Sign and his swordsmanship proved highly effective, quickly crushing the enemy's resistance.

With the bald man's death, the morale of the rabble was finally shattered. Shaking and exchanging uncertain glances, some chose to flee. The remaining members lost their fighting spirit, staring at Wayne with terror and quickly retreating from the farm.

Wayne snorted coldly and reached for two throwing knives strapped to his lower back. He aimed at the backs of the fleeing individuals and threw the knives with precision. The screams of the two unlucky individuals not only failed to rally their companions but also hastened the flight of the others.

In less than a minute, only those lying on the ground remained in the farmyard. Holding his steel sword, Wayne contemplated for a moment. Instead of pursuing the fleeing individuals, he walked over to the two survivors. With an expressionless face, he raised his sword and drove it through their necks, ending their lives. His goal was to dismantle the Wild Dog Gang, not to wipe it out completely. Excessive killing could arouse suspicion.

As Wayne prepared to investigate further, heavy footsteps and a gruff voice approached from another direction of the farm.

"Cole, is this guy here to cause trouble for our gang?" "Hey, the bald man is dead too." "Damn, where are my men? Where did they all go?"

Upon hearing these words, Wayne looked up to see a portly man weighing around three hundred pounds, holding a long-handled hammer. The man, bewildered, pointed at Wayne and questioned a young man beside him. This man appeared to be the subordinate sent by the bald man for reinforcements, and it seemed the portly individual was the boss they had mentioned.

What surprised Wayne was that the man referred to as the "king of dogs" by Old Yueke was not riding a horse or accompanied by a vicious dog. Instead, he had a huge wild boar, comparable in size to a rhinoceros. The boar had shiny black fur, large white tusks, strong limbs, and piercing eyes.

Seeing the corpses on the ground, the wild boar showed no fear. Instead, it appeared greedy, with saliva dripping from its mouth. Two thick, smoky breaths puffed from its nostrils, hitting the ground. Wayne, still observing, watched as the big wild boar and its rider arrived.

The fat man was stunned for a moment; his expression shifted to one of caution. In an angry tone, he demanded, "Who the hell are you, and why are you causing trouble for the Wild Dog Gang?"

Wayne did not respond. At this point, communication seemed futile. It was better to seize the opportunity for a preemptive strike.

He made a Sign with his hand and pushed forward, sending a burst of light towards the fat man's head. Unfortunately, the light was quickly dispelled by some invisible force. Enraged, the fat man shook his head, held the saddle guard on the wild boar with one hand, and pointed his long-handled hammer at Wayne, cursing, "Damn it, you dared to sneak up on me. Hogg, charge and kill him!"

Following the order, the wild boar let out a roar, fixed its gaze on Wayne, scratched the ground with its front legs, and charged at Wayne with the force of a battering ram. Surprise flickered in Wayne's eyes, but he quickly rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the wild boar's impact and the big fat man's hammer blow.

With a loud crash, a tree behind Wayne was knocked down. As the fat man cursed, the wild boar named Hogg quickly turned around and faced Wayne again. The missed strike seemed to enrage the boar further. It stomped the ground with its front legs, roared loudly, and charged at Wayne once more.

This time, Wayne was prepared. Before rolling to evade the wild boar's attack and the big fat man's hammer, he grabbed a hatchet from the ground, aimed it, and threw it with force.

The hatchet landed precisely, embedding itself in one of the wild boar's eyes. Blood sprayed out, coating the ground around it.

The intense pain drove the wild boar, Hogg, into a frenzy. Ignoring the fat man's commands, the boar let out a deafening howl, fixed its gaze on Wayne, and charged recklessly.

Such a reckless attack was futile against a prepared Witcher. Wayne had rolled away moments earlier, revealing the sturdy wall behind him. With a massive crash, the farmhouse, the strongest structure on the farm, crumbled under the boar's strength.

The powerful reaction force not only threw the fat man off the boar but also broke its tusks, rendering the massive creature unconscious. The wild boar rolled over, pinning the fat man's leg and eliciting a cry of pain from the man known as the Dog King.

"Damn, my leg is broken because of you, you stupid pig! You disobeyed my orders. I'll roast you when this is over," he bellowed. However, before he could continue, Wayne had already approached, the cold blade of his sword pressed against the fat man's throat. Wayne asked in a chilling voice, "Are you the boss of the Wild Dog Gang?"

Instead of answering, the fat man, whether mentally unhinged or obstinate, cursed, "You bastard! When I get up, I'll smash your head with a hammer. How dare you provoke me, the Dog King Willie. I'll kill you."

Seeing that the man was so ignorant, Wayne was not inclined to engage further. He was merely a gang member, and there was no value in interrogating him.

Wayne gripped the hilt of his sword, and as he thrust it forward, it pierced the fat man's throat. The gush of blood silenced the man's curses. With eyes wide open and his mouth agape, the man attempted to speak, but the warm blood gushing from his nostrils and mouth prevented any sound.

Wayne withdrew the steel sword, wiped the blood from his body, and then searched the man's belongings. He soon found a blue necklace around the man's neck, featuring a round metal plate. According to what Wayne had learned at Kaer Morhen, this was a necklace forged from dimeritium. No wonder his Sign had been instantly dispelled.

The Wild Dog Gang's unique method of taming vicious dogs and wild boars intrigued Wayne. Perhaps the gang held some secrets. However, with the enemy defeated, it was time to claim the spoils.

"One, two, three, four... seventeen, eighteen."

"Eighteen Orens, thirty-seven copper coins."

"Damn, what a meager haul."

Wayne counted the bloody Orens in his hand, snorted in disdain, and then wiped off the blood before stuffing them all into his money bag. After the battle, he had rummaged through more than a dozen corpses, but the paltry amount of money he found—mostly from the fat man—left him quite disgruntled.

A gang with so little stolen money was a disgrace, even worse than what a group of farmers might have. The devil dust bomb he had used felt like a waste of resources.

Despite the meager funds, Wayne was pleasantly surprised by other finds on the farm. Besides his own stolen mount, Lucifer, he discovered two tied horses in the stable. While they were ordinary, selling them could fetch a few hundred Orens. At least the effort hadn't been entirely in vain.

Wayne smacked his lips and walked toward the big wild boar.

He pulled out the dagger Vesemir had given him and quickly cut the boar's throat and artery. After draining the blood, he opened the boar's stomach, removing all the internal organs and large intestines. His movements were swift, dismantling the wild boar into various ingredients within ten minutes. Leaving such a large game to waste was a shame, and with his cooking skills, the ingredients would provide many delicious dishes.

After dealing with the wild boar, Wayne sheathed the dagger and walked inside the farmhouse. The surviving members of the Wild Dog Gang had long since fled, and the vicious dogs were gone. Only some personal belongings remained in the farmhouse, waiting to be searched.

After some searching, Wayne found a stash hidden by the gangsters on the first floor of the farmhouse. About 40 pieces of Oren and some gold and silver jewelry were concealed quite well—likely the savings of the gang.

Upon reaching the second floor, he immediately saw a room that was decorated quite luxuriously. Exquisite decorations adorned the walls and the table, and a king-sized solid wooden bed occupied the center of the room. From the layout, it was probably the room of the fat man who rode the wild boar.

Seeing this, Wayne's spirits lifted. However, before he could investigate further, his keen Witcher senses detected a living presence in the room—the faint sound of breathing and a heartbeat reached his ears.

He traced the sound to a hidden wooden door inside a wardrobe, which was locked. Wayne decided to continue searching the room before opening the door. He suspected the hidden space behind the wardrobe was not an enemy but rather someone imprisoned by the fat man. The prisoner, having been locked up for so long, was unlikely to be in a hurry to escape.

The search yielded good results. In addition to the property worth hundreds of Orens, Wayne found a metal iron box in a hidden space next to the bed, indicated by a slight tremble of his medallion.

Inside the box were a staff resembling a dead tree branch, a hand-transcribed book, and a strange ornament shaped like an eyeball held by an eagle's claws. Wayne did not touch the magical items but focused on the book, which had no magical response.

The book, though lacking a title and written in scrawled handwriting, quickly captivated Wayne's attention. It detailed methods for taming animals, including vicious dogs, horses, and other wild creatures. It also contained herbal medicine recipes, materials, and steps for some magical rituals. It seemed that the Wild Dog Gang's boss had acquired animal taming techniques from somewhere and made notes, possibly from a druid.

Wayne thought of the living presence behind the hidden door and decided to keep the book. He did not take the magical items but placed the iron box in a prominent spot on the bed. Then, he went to the wardrobe and opened the hidden door.

Without a key, Wayne used an Aard Sign to blast the wooden door into splinters.

Behind the door was a small space with some food storage and a wooden ladder leading to the attic. Wayne didn't hesitate; he grabbed an oil lamp from the room, cast a Quen shield on himself, and carefully climbed the ladder.

The attic smelled unpleasantly of feces and urine. It was a small, triangular space under the pressure of the sloping roof. Inside were a simple straw mat, a broken quilt, and a figure huddled in the corner, chained.

The figure had white hair, a hunched back, and an old face, dressed in a dark brown, tattered linen gown. To prevent him from speaking, a metal mask was locked onto his mouth. By the light of the oil lamp, Wayne recognized him as an elderly man in his 60s or 70s. The long imprisonment had left him weak and frail.

Upon seeing Wayne with the oil lamp, the old man seemed to regain some energy. His bloodshot eyes filled with a pleading look, and he emitted a muffled sob from behind the iron mask.

Wayne's expression remained neutral. After examining the iron mask and chains, he determined he could not open them and said, "Don't worry, old man. I am a Witcher, and I've dealt with all the bandits here. You're safe now. I'll find a way to free you."

Wayne set the oil lamp down to provide light and to help the old man feel less anxious. He continued, "I'm going to search for the key. If I can't find it, I'll have to remove the chains without harming you."

He looked into the old man's eyes and asked, "Can you wait here quietly in the meantime?"

Despite his long captivity, the old man maintained a calm demeanor. After Wayne's reassurance, his eyes softened, and he settled onto the straw mat, waiting quietly.

Wayne, suspecting that the old man might be a druid who follows nature, quickly descended the stairs and searched for the key in the farmhouse. After a lengthy search, he finally found it hidden in a pocket of the fat man's coat—an inconspicuous detail Wayne would have missed if he hadn't been thorough.

Returning to the attic, Wayne unlocked the chains and removed the iron mask from the old man. The first thing the old man did was raise his trembling hand, place it on his chest, and chant a spell. A green light emanated from his hand, healing his wounds. After a few minutes, the light faded, and the old man's condition improved. He spoke in a hoarse, weak voice, "Thank you for rescuing me, Witcher. My name is Keinster, and I am a druid. I've been trapped by these dimeritium chains for too long. Could you provide me with some food?"

The story of Keinster is not a complicated one, but it is deeply tragic. Three years ago, the leader of the Wild Dog Gang was just a hunter in the forest. During a hunt, he was cornered by a pack of wolves and nearly lost his life. Fortunately, Keinster, who was on a mission, came to his rescue. The kind old Druid used his beast-taming magic to drive away the wolves and saved the hunter's life.

Unexpectedly, this man harbored a vicious intent. Pretending to repay Keinster's kindness, he invited the Druid to his home for dinner. However, halfway through their drinks, the hunter treacherously attacked Keinster, knocking him unconscious.

It was like a medieval version of the tale of the farmer and the snake. Somehow, the hunter managed to find a shackle infused with dimeritium, imprisoning Keinster and forcing him to reveal the secrets of beast-taming. This imprisonment lasted for three long years.

Hearing this, Wayne couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. According to Keinster's account, he was a high-ranking Elder Druid. He had taken on a task that brought him to a forest near Vizima to establish a new circle of druids. Yet, despite his power, after being shackled by the dimeritium, he was reduced to the level of an ordinary old man and imprisoned by a vile hunter for years.

It's a harsh reminder that in this world, everything has a counter, and nothing is invincible. Given the right circumstances, even the most powerful spellcasters can be rendered helpless.

After learning the details of Keinster's ordeal, Wayne temporarily arranged for him to stay on the second floor, providing him with fresh clothes and food. He then handed him a box containing two magical items. Wayne had initially expected to lose these unknown artifacts in exchange for the old Druid's friendship, but Keinster turned out to be quite generous.

Keinster grasped his wooden staff, and as he chanted a spell, green magic surged around him. He then cast an enchantment on the strange ornament resembling an eagle's claw clutching an eyeball before handing it to Wayne.

"Thank you, Wayne, for getting me out of that hellhole. I've heard that Witchers strictly adhere to neutrality and rarely take on unpaid tasks. Unfortunately, I have nothing left to repay you with. This necklace is a magic talisman I crafted from the claws of a Heckna and the eye of a fish monster. It's my gift to you.

"As long as you wear it, animals will be drawn to you and won't attack you. It also grants the ability to breathe underwater and swim faster. Though it may seem like a trivial item, I hope it aids you in your journey."

Wayne accepted the Heckna talisman without hesitation, immediately sensing a unique magical energy enveloping his body. He nodded to the elder Druid and said, "Thank you, Elder Keinster. You can rest here for now. I'll call for a carriage to take you to my place in the city. You can recuperate there for a few days, and once you've regained your strength, we can plan your next steps."

The old Druid nodded with a smile, not refusing Wayne's offer of help. Despite having been betrayed so terribly, Keinster still maintained a peaceful and friendly demeanor, a testament to his strong Druidic beliefs.

Half an hour later, Wayne returned to the farm on his horse, Lucifer, along with two rented carriages. With him were Old Yurke, the tavern owner, and several of his workers. Upon entering the farm, they were greeted by the sight of corpses scattered across the grounds, which made Old Yurke shiver. He cursed loudly, "Damn it, Goddess Melitele! Wayne, how many people did you kill? Did you take down the entire Wild Dog Gang? This place looks like a slaughterhouse. I haven't seen such carnage since I left the battlefield."

Wayne shrugged. To him, there was no difference between human scum and monsters—they both needed to be eliminated. He felt no remorse for dispatching those thugs.

"I took out everyone who stood in my way. I didn't bother chasing down the ones who fled," Wayne replied, pointing to the two horses in the stable. "If you can give me some crowns in exchange for those two horses, you can do whatever you want with the rest of the farm. But I suggest burning all the corpses before they attract necrophages, which could endanger the local villagers."

Old Yurke spat on the ground in disgust and said gruffly, "Fine, fine, you little bastard. I'll clean up your mess. If you hadn't helped us get rid of those scumbags, I wouldn't touch this filthy job with a ten-foot pole."

Wayne wasn't bothered by Old Yurke's swearing. The old man had lived in Vizima for decades and, while not particularly powerful, was well-connected enough to keep a tavern open in a rough part of town. More importantly, Yurke had a good heart and was a loyal follower of the goddess Melitele. From what Wayne vaguely recalled, both his mother and many of the poor in the neighborhood had benefited from Old Yurke's generosity.

As he watched Yurke grumbling while directing his young workers to dig pits and gather firewood for burning the bodies, Wayne couldn't help but chuckle. "By the way, Old Yurke, don't forget that I've completed your commission by taking care of the Wild Dog Gang. From now on, I expect to drink all the wine I want in your tavern, free of charge."

Old Yurke's expression darkened even further. He snorted and replied, "Fine, you little bastard. I'm a man of my word."

Satisfied with the response, Wayne nodded. Completing his system tasks was his top priority, and sure enough, as soon as Yurke finished speaking, the system's voice echoed in his mind.

Ding! The expert-level task [Eradicate the Wild Dog Gang] has been completed.

Reward: 45 experience points, expert-level treasure chest x1.

The system's reward of 45 experience points brought Wayne great joy. This amount was nearly ten times the experience of ordinary tasks, a clear indication that the system encouraged him to tackle more challenging missions. No matter how many minor tasks he completed, the experience gains were minimal, and he was limited to one task per day, making it difficult to accumulate experience quickly.

Noticing that the day was drawing to a close, Wayne turned to Old Yurke and said, "I have some other matters to attend to and need to head back to the city. There's also a large wild boar near the farmhouse that I've already dealt with. Make sure to take it back with you when you leave. Just save me some pork thighs and ribs. The rest you can keep or sell as you see fit. And don't worry about the horses—I'll come to you in a few days to settle that."

After a brief exchange with Old Yurke, Wayne escorted the elder Druid Keinster back to Vizima. As night fell, and after handling the Wild Dog Gang, he prepared to address other pressing matters before reuniting with Geralt and the others.

Half an hour later, Wayne escorted Keinster to the Fox Tavern, where the druid would temporarily recuperate. After washing off the blood and changing into clean clothes, Wayne rode to the city hall in the center of Vizima. His visit was part of a decision he'd made to settle temporarily in the city. After careful consideration, he planned to purchase property as a fixed base for his daily activities. This decision was influenced by the benefits provided by his Cheat system, which not only helped him complete tasks and advance his Witcher level but also offered blessings in various skills. To improve these skills effectively, a stable environment was essential.

Wayne had realized this during his month-long journey with Geralt. Most of that time had been spent on the road, lacking the efficiency for skill improvement he experienced at Kaer Morhen. Besides, Vizima was undergoing significant development, with land prices still relatively low. Over the next two decades, the city was expected to thrive, offering ample opportunities for land appreciation. Wayne had the funds to invest, making it the perfect time to secure property in Vizima and anticipate rich returns in the future.

Moreover, Vizima City was a hub of talent, offering Wayne a favorable environment to learn, enhance various skills, and increase his strength. As a modern-minded Witcher, he aspired to become a respected, affluent, and powerful figure. Unlike companions like Geralt, who had struggled financially for decades, Wayne saw New Vizima as an excellent starting point for achieving his goals.

As Wayne approached the city hall, his confident demeanor set him apart from the ordinary residents, prompting two guards at the entrance to stop him.

"Who are you? This is the Vizima City Hall. If you want to enter, you cannot carry weapons," one of the guards stated.

Complying with the request, Wayne untied the steel sword from his waist and expressed his intention to buy land. The guard with a scar on his face, eyeing Wayne's amber cat-like eyes suspiciously, questioned their unusual appearance.

"What's the matter with your eyes? Why are they like this?" he asked.

Considering that he planned to reside in Vizima for an extended period and had nothing to hide, Wayne explained, "Don't worry, gentlemen. I am a Witcher, responsible for helping others deal with various monsters. However, this time, I've come to the city hall not to seek a commission but to conduct business."

Upon hearing Wayne identify himself as a Witcher, the scar-faced guard hesitated briefly before a look of disgust crossed his face, as if recalling something unpleasant.

Despite the guard's disdain, Wayne remained composed. The city hall had no regulation prohibiting Witchers from entering, and with the mayor currently struggling to raise funds, they couldn't afford to turn away potential buyers. One of the guards turned to his companion, spat uneasily on the ground, and addressed Wayne, "I know you mutants. I've heard you're all thieves and traffickers, stealing children and transforming them into monsters like yourselves. I'll be keeping an eye on you, Witcher. If you cause any trouble, you'll find yourself on the gallows."

Although the hostility towards Witchers was evident, Wayne chose not to argue. Handing over his weapon, he reassured the guards, "Don't worry, gentlemen. I am a law-abiding citizen. I'm even looking to contribute to New Vizima. Your mayor will probably like me more than you do."

After dealing with the guards' animosity, Wayne sighed inwardly. He understood that the negative reputation of Witchers stemmed partly from the diminishing number of monsters in the world. Wayne's stay in Vizima had another purpose—to help King Foltest lift his daughter's curse and gain the king's favor. He believed that this would contribute to changing people's prejudices against Witchers in the Kingdom. Given King Foltest's unique situation and controversial reputation, Wayne saw an opportunity to bridge understanding.

Inside the city hall, Wayne was greeted by a well-mannered middle-aged man. Though the man expressed surprise upon sizing up Wayne, he maintained politeness.

"Sir, may I inquire if you have come to the city hall for a particular matter?" the man asked with a courteous tone. Wayne returned the courtesy with a smile. Despite his Witcher attire, excluding the distinctive cat pupils and elf-like ears, Wayne's appearance was quite ordinary, even handsome.

"I heard that the city hall has land for sale. I'm here to purchase some property," Wayne stated directly. The middle-aged man's enthusiasm grew upon hearing this, and he extended his hand to Wayne with a smile.

"Sir, I am Peter Cross, the administrative officer in charge of selling land. May I know your name?" Wayne shook the man's hand and replied, "You can call me Wayne."

After the introductions, Peter led Wayne into a room and provided him with a manual containing various price tags. In the center of the room, a large map resembling a sand table displayed different areas of New Vizima City, each marked with numbers and lines.

Peter pointed to the map and explained, "Wayne, this is a simple map of New Vizima City. We've marked different prices for various regions. You can choose to buy land in these areas. The larger the purchase, the better the price. Of course, this is just a preliminary plan. Once you've made a general choice, we'll send someone to accompany you for field inspections and adjust the details accordingly."

Peter continued his detailed introduction, maintaining a professional smile throughout the process.

"I must say, Wayne, your timing is impeccable. Our mayor, Virelad, has decided to offer discounts on current land to expedite the construction of the new city. If you make a purchase now, you'll benefit from these discounts," Peter presented the offer enthusiastically. As Wayne listened, it felt akin to entering a real estate agency and being pitched by a salesman.

As he flipped through the manual, Wayne was surprised to find that the second half contained information on completed houses available for direct sale. Compared to the hassle of acquiring land, coordinating workers, purchasing materials, and overseeing construction, the prospect of purchasing a ready-made home appealed to him. Given that he frequently returned to Kaer Morhen Castle and embarked on missions in other countries, the house would serve more as a stronghold than a permanent residence.

Noticing Wayne's interest in the finished houses, Peter became even more excited. Finished houses, being more expensive than bare land, promised greater profits, impacting their performance in the city's development and influencing salaries and future promotions. Recognizing Wayne as a potentially significant client, Peter eagerly picked up a similar manual and meticulously compared it with the large map in the room, providing detailed explanations of each available finished house.

Peter's excitement grew as he realized the potential commissions and success that Wayne's purchase could bring to the development of the new city.

The manual was remarkably detailed, providing clear information on the area, location, and price of each house. It even included simple line drawings of the house structures, displaying thoughtfulness in its design. Wayne noticed a particular house with an unusually low price, roughly a third of similar houses.

Despite its large area, the location was quite remote, aligning with Wayne's preferences. Intrigued, he asked, "Peter, could you tell me about this house? Why is its price significantly lower than others?"

Curious, Peter glanced at the location Wayne indicated and hesitated, his expression changing. Realizing Wayne's genuine interest, he decided not to offend the client. Aware that the information was public knowledge, he reluctantly explained, "Wayne, to be honest, there are some issues with this house. It's had two previous buyers, and various accidents occurred during their stay. They experienced nightmares, inexplicable tripping, and incidents like objects falling and causing harm. Eventually, both buyers complained to the city hall, bringing attention to the problems with this house. In an effort to mitigate the negative impact, the council has repossessed the house and is now offering it at a reduced price."

Then, Peter added, "Of course, as a condition for the reduced price, the buyer must sign a contract with the city hall. After the purchase, there's no going back."

As Peter described the potential issues with the house, Wayne's initial thought was that ghosts, earth spirits, or curses might be causing trouble. While there are numerous monsters, ghosts, and demons in the world, and a Witcher can't know them all, Wayne believed that if it was a minor issue, he could use his abilities to resolve it. This would not only save money but also secure an ideal house, creating a win-win situation.

Wayne decided to conduct a discreet investigation first. He aimed to determine if he could resolve any issues before deciding whether to proceed with the transaction.

Subsequently, Wayne and Peter discussed other houses, but most were expensive and not cost-effective. These newly built houses were intended for wealthy merchants, nobles, or powerful individuals, featuring large sizes and luxurious decorations that exceeded the means of ordinary civilians.

Peter, eager for positive results, noticed that Wayne didn't seem to be short of money and patiently explained various details.

"That's all for today. Thank you, Peter, for your detailed explanations," Wayne stated. "I'll carefully consider my options over the next two days. Once I've decided, I'll return to the city hall to find you. At that time, I'll ask for your assistance with the necessary procedures."

Satisfied with Wayne's upbeat attitude, Peter nodded and escorted him to the city hall gate.

Seeing Wayne engaged in a cheerful conversation with the city hall official, the two guards at the entrance decided not to hassle him further. They promptly returned his weapon without issue.

With his steel sword back in his possession, Wayne checked the time and realized it was nearly the agreed-upon meeting time with Geralt. Instead of wandering aimlessly, he strolled around the streets near the city hall entrance.

After a half-hour wait, Wayne spotted Geralt and Jaskier approaching. The duo seemed to be in high spirits, walking shoulder to shoulder with a somewhat drunken gait. Following them were Roach and a little donkey.

Judging by their appearance, it was unclear whether they had visited a tavern for drinks or had an encounter with a woman. Upon meeting, Jaskier grinned, draped an arm over Wayne's shoulder, and whispered mysteriously, "Hey, Wayne, you really missed out not joining us."

"We started with a visit to a tavern for drinks, and then we ran into a noble baron during a game of Gwent," Jaskier continued. "He lost over a hundred orens to Geralt in cards and invited us to a private club for a wager. It's called the Queen of the Night, and let me tell you, the girls there are exceptional! Whether in figure or beauty, they're unparalleled."

Jaskier went on, revealing, "However, the expenses there are exorbitant. Just this afternoon, we spent at least two hundred orens."

Wayne, upon hearing this, was left a bit speechless. Jaskier seemed to be quite the reckless friend, spending almost all of Geralt's hard-earned wages in a single afternoon. Glancing at Geralt's discontented expression, Wayne refrained from commenting. After all, if they both think it's worth it, enjoying themselves in time is also an attitude towards life.

As for the Queen of the Night, Wayne, familiar with the lore from the game, knew that the future owner of this brothel was Regis' old lover—a high-level vampire. Many of the girls at Queen of the Night were vampires with the ability to enchant humans. This revelation explained why Jaskier couldn't forget the experience.

After a brief chat, Wayne brought Geralt and Jaskier to the Fox Tavern, where they enjoyed dinner. The meal featured a feast centered around the wild boar from the abandoned farm. Wayne, showcasing his culinary skills, prepared a spaghetti and barbecue with generous portions of the wild boar. All those gathered, including acquaintances and even the thin young orphan Alex, indulged in the delicious spread. Wayne, intrigued by Alex's character, planned to observe and potentially mentor him, hoping the orphan understood gratitude and loyalty.

During the post-dinner conversation, Wayne revealed his decision to Geralt. He explained, "Geralt, I plan to stay in Vizima this year to accept commissions and will return to Kaer Morhen in winter."

Geralt, initially inebriated, was taken aback by the announcement. He wore a puzzled expression and asked, "Why did you make this decision, Wayne?"

Wayne calmly responded, "I have much to learn, Geralt. I want to start my practice in Vizima—a relatively safe place with numerous commissions and diverse people. Here, I can hone my Witcher abilities, learn to survive in this world, and navigate interactions with individuals from various races."

Geralt, understanding Wayne's thoughtful nature, nodded in acceptance. He silently took another sip of spirits, contemplating the decision. Although he would prefer Wayne to accompany him on commissions in the countryside and wilderness, he recognized Wayne's maturity and intelligence. As a companion, Geralt refrained from interfering too much in Wayne's life.

After a brief moment of silence, Geralt exhaled softly and said, "Okay, now that you've made up your mind, Wayne, just do what you want. I'll also stay here for a month or two. Once I'm sure you've adapted to life here, I'll leave to find commissions elsewhere."

In the early hours of the morning, darkness enveloped the world, illuminated only by the cold moonlight outlining everything below. Both the old and new parts of Vizima were dimly lit, with only a few groups of guards carrying torches as they patrolled the streets.

Unnoticed by anyone, a figure cloaked in dark, tight-fitting attire emerged from the slums. This mysterious individual wore a black kerchief concealing their face and carried a silver sword. It was Wayne. Intent on uncovering the truth about the house that had piqued his interest earlier, Wayne had taken special precautions, borrowing Geralt's silver sword for the task. Since the house was still under the jurisdiction of City Hall, Wayne couldn't simply break in without a reason.

His goal was to determine whether he could discreetly handle whatever was wrong with the house. If successful, he could influence City Hall's decision and perhaps secure the house at a more favorable price.

Having consumed a potion beforehand, Wayne moved through the shadows with ease, his vision unaffected by the lack of light. Silently, he avoided the gaze of patrolling guards and swiftly made his way to his destination.

The house was a two-story structure made of brick and stone, resembling a private villa. It had both front and back yards, enclosed by a wall over two meters high. However, unlike homes with storefronts, this one was located in a relatively secluded area. Its entrance wasn't on the main street but near the city wall of New Vizima, separated only by a narrow alley.

Wayne carefully surveyed the surroundings, ensuring no one was watching. Satisfied, he scaled the wall with ease, using the gate's location to climb up and enter the property.

The front yard was a small garden filled with various flowers and plants. For decorative purposes, the previous owner had added a wooden gazebo and a pond. Wayne circled the yard, finding nothing unusual. His medallion from the Wolf School remained still, indicating no immediate danger.

He tried the front door but found it locked. The windows on the first floor were also sealed, preventing entry. However, this was a minor obstacle for a Witcher like Wayne. After circling the house, he spotted a balcony on the second floor.

The semi-circular, open-air balcony sat about three meters above the ground. Formerly decorated with pots of beautiful flowers, it might have presented a challenge for ordinary people, requiring a ladder to reach. But Wayne, without his heavy armor, leaped up and easily pulled himself onto the balcony.

From there, he could see into the master bedroom. The furniture was new and upscale, suggesting the previous owner had left in haste, abandoning several possessions. Wayne paid little attention to these items as he entered the house, his senses sharp and alert for anything out of place.

If the problem in the house was merely a mischievous spirit or a minor curse, it could be dealt with easily. However, if the issue stemmed from a more sinister source, like an evil spirit, things could become problematic. Such spirits, classified as monsters, varied greatly in strength. A powerful one could wipe out an entire army, while a weaker one might barely manifest. Most scholars and Sorcerers believe that when a person dies under extreme emotional distress, there's a chance they might transform into a spirit or monster.

For nearly an hour, Wayne searched the house, moving from the second floor to the first, from the bedroom to the kitchen, exploring every corner. Yet, he found nothing. His Witcher senses and medallion showed no signs of disturbance, leaving him perplexed.

The situation pointed to one of two possibilities: either the problem was too severe for his senses to detect, or there was no significant danger, and the previous buyers had simply experienced a series of unfortunate coincidences. Wayne was more inclined to believe the former. He didn't trust coincidences. Even after conducting a thorough search, the house revealed no secrets.

Wayne decided to check the backyard. Unlike the front yard, the backyard was larger. But due to the ongoing construction of New Vizima, the yard remained unfinished—essentially a barren plot of land. Aside from a deep well in the center, there was nothing of note.

His instincts led him to the well. It was a simple structure made of bricks and stone, with a wooden roof to keep debris out. A metal rotating rod controlled the rope used for drawing water.

As Wayne approached the well, he immediately sensed something odd. A faint, cool breeze brushed against his skin, unusual for such an enclosed space. Intrigued, he peered down into the darkness. Even with the enhanced vision provided by his potion, he could only make out a large, open space at the bottom of the well, with the faint movement of air.

His heightened senses indicated the well wasn't tapping into an aquifer like a typical one would. Instead, it appeared to be carved into the bedrock, connecting to an underground river. This setup explained the spacious area and airflow beneath the well.

Moreover, Wayne detected the faint scent of a monster, though he couldn't confirm exactly what it was. Whatever it was, it had likely entered the house through the well, causing the mishaps reported by the previous owners.

For now, it seemed the monster wasn't actively dangerous. It hadn't harmed anyone seriously—either because it lacked the ability or simply didn't wish to.

Wayne pondered his options. He could set up a magic circle to seal the well, cutting off the creature's access to the surface. This would be the simplest and safest solution.

Alternatively, he could stake out the well for several days, hoping the monster might emerge.

The third option was far riskier: diving into the well, following the underground river, and confronting the creature in its lair. Fortunately, Wayne had the Hekna Talisman, which allowed him to breathe underwater and swim faster.

However, Wayne wasn't sure if he was strong enough to deal with the monster directly. Diving into the well was dangerous without knowing what awaited him at the bottom.

He glanced at the sky. It was still dark, with a few hours left until dawn. If this were a game, he might have already jumped into the well without hesitation. But in the real world, where there were no second chances, Wayne knew better than to take unnecessary risks.

After a few more moments of contemplation, Wayne returned to the house. He entered a room on the second floor, one that faced the backyard, and took a seat by the window. From there, he could observe the well and wait. If luck was on his side, the monster might make its move soon.

As the night slowly gave way to the early light of dawn, the moonlight dimmed, casting shadows across the landscape. Wayne, who had been observing from his vantage point, began to suspect that his efforts had been in vain. But just as he was about to give up, his sharp eyes caught sight of a small hand emerging from the well, grasping the edge.

Wayne's gaze fixed on the scene, confirming his earlier suspicion—the creature was indeed emerging from the well. However, he didn't act impulsively; instead, he concealed himself further in the shadows to observe its intentions.

After a brief wait, a metal watering can was tossed out of the well, followed by a small being with purple skin, a wreath on its head, and large watery eyes. Wayne observed it closely, recognizing it as a Godling.

This realization eased Wayne's tension. Compared to malevolent spirits or other monsters, Godlings were known for their kindness, docility, and peaceful nature. These intelligent creatures were often regarded as shy, hardworking beings who enjoyed tending to flowers, plants, and small animals near their homes. Many scholars referred to them as guardian spirits.

Resembling human children in behavior and appearance, these mischievous spirits had a touch of innocence and playfulness. When treated kindly, they would secretly assist the locals in any way they could. However, if they were mistreated, they would retaliate with pranks and magical tricks. Despite their helpful nature, these creatures preferred a quiet environment. As villages became more prosperous and forgot their traditions, the Godlings would quietly leave, migrating to remote caves or unknown locations.

Recalling what he knew about Godlings from books, Wayne continued to watch the little creature from his position by the second-floor window. This one seemed to be a young female, characterized by bluish-purple skin and wearing a damp coat made from an unidentified animal's hide. While her appearance might not be appealing to humans, she exuded a gentle temperament, a strange mix of ugliness and cuteness.

After climbing out of the well, the Godling looked around cautiously. Once she was certain no one had noticed her, she gingerly retrieved the metal watering can and murmured an unknown spell. Using her magic, she made the can float in the air, lower into the well, and then emerge filled with clean water.

This display of magic surprised Wayne. While Godlings did possess some spell-like abilities, it was rare for such a young one to be so proficient. Clearly pleased with her success, the Godling struggled to lift the watering can, but she continued to twirl around the house, making her way from the backyard to the front yard garden.

Humming peculiar tunes, the Godling diligently watered the flowers and trees. She even picked up a small shovel from the garden and began loosening the soil and fertilizing the plants, resembling a hardworking little gardener.

Observing this heartwarming scene, Wayne was stunned. The thriving condition of the garden, even after the owner's departure, now made sense—it had been tended to in secret during the night.

Despite her small stature, measuring only about half a meter in height, it was clear to Wayne that this little creature found joy in her labor, even though it was physically taxing. The Godling seemed to derive great satisfaction from her tasks.

About an hour later, the Godling darted back and forth between the well and the front yard, completing her work just as the sun was about to rise. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, meticulously returned the tools to their proper places, and appeared ready to leave.

Watching her hold the metal watering can, turning her head repeatedly as she reluctantly made her way back to the well, Wayne couldn't help but smile. Silently, he descended from the second floor and concealed himself in a corner outside the house. When she walked past him, he lightly coughed and asked, "Hey! What's your name, little one?"

Wayne's voice startled the Godling. Trembling in fear, she took a few steps back, dropping the metal watering can in the process. Her large, watery eyes were filled with horror, and her entire body quivered.

Seeing her reaction, Wayne stepped back and raised his hands in a gesture meant to reassure her that he meant no harm. Despite his harmless appearance, the Godling remained terrified of humans. Understanding this, Wayne took care not to provoke her.

In response to her fear, she reached for a colorful conch hanging from her neck and blew into it softly. To Wayne's surprise, the Godling's body gradually became transparent, and she eventually disappeared from sight.

While an ordinary person might panic, believing the Godling had truly vanished, Wayne's medallion and keen senses told him that she had likely used some form of illusion to conceal herself. She was still present, just invisible.

The most obvious clue was the small footprints she left in the backyard grass as she moved. Chuckling, Wayne followed the trail of footprints and spoke kindly, "Don't worry, little one. I'm a Witcher, but I harbor no ill will. I simply came here because I wanted to talk to you."

The word "Witcher" seemed to capture the Godling's attention. She paused, and silence lingered for about ten seconds before a childlike voice emerged from the surroundings.

"Witcher? Are you the kind of person who hunts evil monsters? I've read about you in books."

Wayne considered her words for a moment before responding, "Yes, but a person's occupation doesn't determine their morality. Even Witchers can be bad. Some might harm innocent people, not just evil monsters."

There was a brief pause before the Godling's voice asked, "You said you wanted to talk, Witcher. What do you want to talk about?"

The Godling seemed quite intelligent, even more so than human girls of the same age. Intrigued, Wayne replied, "I heard that the owner of this house endured various pranks, nightmares every night, and even injuries. This is a human house. Why are you doing this? Why are you driving them away?"

The Godling quickly refuted the accusation, "No, I didn't do it. My brother, Fitz, did. He believes that these humans disturbed the goddess's altar. He insists on driving them away; otherwise, it would be disrespectful to the goddess."

She continued, "My father tried to stop him, but my brother is too stubborn to listen. Those humans were driven away by him."

Wayne was taken aback by her words. It seemed his earlier assumption had been incorrect. The issue wasn't just the work of a solitary Godling but rather an entire family of them, with a goddess involved.

"Which goddess is it, little one?" Wayne asked. "Is the altar nearby?"

She seemed innocent and, after a few seconds of thought, answered without hesitation, "It's the Lady of the Lake. The altar that our family has worshiped for generations is in the cave beneath this house. You humans built this big house on top of it, made all kinds of noise every day, drove away the surrounding creatures, and disturbed the peace of the goddess. That's why my brother is so angry and wants to drive the people away."

Upon hearing the name "Goddess of the Lake," Wayne felt a flicker of recognition. He recalled the house's location, just beyond the city walls, a short distance from the shores of Lake Vizima. He hypothesized that the underground river beneath the well likely connected to the lake. Lake Vizima's shore was legendary, known for the miracles performed by the Goddess of the Lake. The lake held not only an altar dedicated to the goddess but also the remnants of an underwater city, once inhabited by humans. According to legend, the city was submerged by the gods, angered by the debauchery of its inhabitants. Deep within the city's ruins, a malevolent deity named Dagon was said to dwell.

In the Witcher lore, Geralt, known as the White Wolf, had once aided the Goddess of the Lake in vanquishing the evil god Dagon. For his noble actions, the goddess blessed him and bestowed upon him the title of Knight of the Goddess of the Lake, along with a powerful artifact sword named Aerondight. Although Geralt temporarily lost the artifact during a battle with a dragon, the Goddess of the Lake reappeared in Toussaint to return the weapon to him. This sword was of immense significance to Geralt, symbolizing his destiny as the one capable of changing the world. Geralt, seen as the only Witcher who could avert the "White Frost" crisis, carried the weight of the world's fate on his shoulders.

The Goddess of the Lake was revered as a benevolent deity, upholding the five virtues of knighthood. Tales of her grace and divine deeds were widespread, contributing to her exalted status.

Wayne's thoughts raced as he contemplated this. He turned his gaze to where the small Godling was hiding and spoke gently, "I trust you, little one. My name is Wayne. Can you tell me your name?"

The Godling seemed shy upon hearing this. It appeared that few had asked for her name before. Over the centuries, the number of Godlings had dwindled, making them a rare sight.

After a brief pause, the Godling responded in a hesitant voice, "My name is Lala."

Wayne smiled warmly, attempting to put her at ease. "Nice to meet you, Lala. There's something I'd like to discuss with you. May I?"

Sensing Wayne's friendly demeanor, the Godling trembled slightly, and Lala's figure emerged. With big, watery eyes, she nervously bit her finger and asked, "Do you need help with something, Wayne?"

Wayne appreciated her kindness. After a moment's thought, he explained, "It's like this, Lala. This house will soon be mine, and I hope we can live here peacefully together. Since I'll have tasks to perform, I may often be away. Could I ask you to watch the house for me when I'm not here?"

Lala was taken aback. The straightforward Godling couldn't quite grasp Wayne's intentions, nor was she aware of the potential dangers humans could pose.

Lala pondered for a moment, feeling happy at the thought of staying in the house with the owner's permission. But remembering her father's teachings, she replied with a hint of frustration, "I really want to help you, Wayne, but my father doesn't allow us to have too much contact with humans. I'll need to ask for his opinion first."

Wayne wasn't surprised by this. While he wished to establish a positive connection with Lala and perhaps gain unexpected benefits, he understood that her father might have reservations. He nodded, offering a reassuring smile. "That's fine, Lala. You can ask your father. But let him know that I'm a Witcher with no ill intentions, and I have great respect for the Goddess of the Lake. If you help me with the house, I'll make it worth your while."

"Compensation?" Lala tilted her head, her big eyes filled with confusion. "What's compensation, Wayne?"

Wayne chuckled, adopting a tempting tone. "Compensation means if you help me look after the house, I'll give you a reward. If there's something you want that only humans have, I can get it for you as a reward."

Lala, always curious, was immediately intrigued by the offer of something unique to humans. Twirling her fingers, she looked at Wayne with her large, watery eyes and said, "Even though I really want what you're offering, Wayne, I still have to ask my father first."

Wayne nodded understandingly. "No problem, Lala. Take your time. You're always welcome here. But before I move in, it's best if you don't show yourself during the day. If other humans see you, you might be in danger."

Lala nodded and proudly showed off a colorful conch on her chest. "I understand, Wayne. But I have a treasure from the goddess that protects me from humans."

After saying this, Lala touched the wreath on her head with a touch of regret. "It's getting late, Wayne, and I need to go home. Nice to meet you. Goodbye!"

Wayne nodded, realizing dawn was approaching, and made his way back through the early morning darkness. "See you next time, Lala."

In the following days, Wayne refrained from rushing to the city hall to complete the formalities. Although he had resolved the issue at the house, moving too quickly might raise suspicions at the city hall. He knew that the officials there were not fools and might exploit the situation to cause unnecessary trouble.

So, accompanied by Geralt, Wayne visited the Hotel to meet the wealthy businessman Levardon. Before parting ways earlier, Levardon had mentioned a commission that required their attention. With some free time on his hands, Wayne decided to look into it.

"Welcome, my friend! How have you been in Vizima City?" Levardon greeted them warmly at the Hotel, embracing both Wayne and Geralt. He then ordered a lavish lunch for the trio.

As they waited for their meal, the three engaged in casual conversation about the latest gossip in Vizima City.

Noticing that the food had yet to be served, Wayne reached into his pocket, pulled out a Gwent card, and smiled at Levardon. "My friend, we still have some time before getting down to business. How about a game of Gwent?"

Levardon's smile faltered briefly. He had seen Wayne's prowess in the high-stakes Gwent game at Floating Harbor and was hesitant to play against him. As Levardon considered a polite refusal, he noticed Geralt's expression, which also seemed somewhat rigid. Levardon quickly changed his mind and said, "You're right, my friend. If you have the time, why not indulge us in a few games with Geralt? You could show us your superb Gwent card skills. I'm sure a noble person like you wouldn't refuse."

Wayne, sensing Levardon's reluctance, expressed mild disappointment. "I do know a few Gwent tricks, but my consistent wins are mainly due to the favor of the goddess of luck."

He then proposed an idea. "By the way, when I have some free time, we could organize a Gwent Card Tournament in Vizima. What do you think? It could be a profitable venture. With my skills, you can bet on me, and we could make a substantial amount of money."

Levardon's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm at the idea, and he laughed heartily. "Actually, I've been thinking about that, but I wasn't sure how to approach you."

Wayne smiled. "No problem. When you have the time, let's make a plan and rake in the profits together."

Although Wayne regretted not winning some coins from Levardon through their Gwent match, he had significantly improved Geralt's skills with the cards he generously provided. With the set of sponsored Gwent cards, the White Wolf had become quite the master. The two played several rounds, their heated competition continuing until the food on the table nearly grew cold. Despite some lingering desire to keep playing, they eventually concluded their match. Geralt, with a bit more luck, emerged victorious, winning over a dozen Orens and a relatively common card from Levardon, leaving the wealthy businessman somewhat frustrated.

After lunch, the plump businessman wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead, smacked his lips, and remarked, "Ah! Ever since I tasted Wayne's bear paw dish last time, these rough foods are hard to swallow. I wonder when I'll have the chance to savor such deliciousness again."

Wayne, understanding Levardon's exaggeration, maintained a friendly demeanor toward the influential businessman in Vizima. He was aware that, a decade later, Declan Leuvaarden would even become the behind-the-scenes benefactor for the Princess. Unconcerned, Wayne valued his amicable relationship with the businessman.

Smiling, Wayne assured him, "It won't be long, Leuvaarden. In a few days, after I move into my new house, I plan to invite friends for a celebration dinner. I sincerely invite you to join the festivities. I'll personally cook and prepare a table of delicious food for the occasion."

Upon hearing this, Levardon smiled in surprise and agreement. "Great, Wayne! I'll definitely be there on time. I'm really looking forward to that day."

It had to be said that Levardon's expression was so natural and sincere that if Wayne didn't know his true nature, many might have been deceived. Similarly, Geralt, although not considering Levardon a friend yet, seemed to have a good impression of this generous and kind businessman.

After enjoying themselves for a while, the trio finally delved into the details of the commission. Levardon's request wasn't overly troublesome. He had invested a substantial sum to purchase a large forest on the outskirts of Vizima from the city hall, intending to establish a lumber camp. However, venturing into primeval forests often meant encountering various wild monsters. According to Levardon, three loggers had been injured recently, hampering work efficiency. To remedy this, he sought to hire a Witcher to eliminate the monsters in the forest, ensuring the camp's smooth operation.

Upon further discussion, Wayne realized this was a long-term and relatively leisurely job. He would only be called in when monsters were present, allowing him to engage in other activities during downtime. The position offered a fixed weekly salary, making it an appealing prospect for a Witcher.

After consulting with Geralt, they decided to accept the commission. Since the lumber camp didn't require two Witchers at all times, they planned to take shifts at the camp, allowing one of them to remain in Vizima to handle city commissions.

After discussing the commission, Wayne brought up another matter with Leuvaarden. "Levardon, you have a lot of connections in Vizima. Could you introduce me to a highly skilled blacksmith? I want to commission a piece of equipment."

Levardon paused at the request. He looked up at Wayne, pondered for a moment, and then replied, "You're really lucky, Wayne. I wonder if the goddess of luck is truly looking after you. Just last month, I recruited a group of dwarven lumberjacks. The foreman's father, Master O'Henry, is a highly skilled dwarf blacksmith. It's said he's also quite a famous weapon master among the Mountain Dwarves in Mahakam. I just got acquainted with him yesterday. We had a drink and made friends."

The fat businessman tapped the table with his jeweled ring, thought for a few seconds, and continued, "But you know, most dwarves have peculiar personalities. Master O'Henry isn't short of money. If you want him to forge a weapon for you, I can't guarantee he'll agree. I can write you a letter of introduction, but you'll have to handle the rest yourself."

Wayne was satisfied with the response and expressed his gratitude. "Thank you, Leuvaarden."

Leaving the hotel, Wayne and Geralt headed back to the Fox Tavern. Geralt, curious, asked, "Wayne, are you looking for a dwarf blacksmith to make any specific equipment?"

Wayne turned to Geralt, patted the steel sword at his waist, and replied, "You should be able to guess. I only have a steel sword right now, and I don't have a silver sword. Every time we fight, I have to borrow your silver sword. In an emergency, that could be very dangerous."

Geralt nodded in understanding but expressed surprise. "Have you saved enough money? My master-level silver sword was forged in Novigrad. It cost me nearly a thousand Orens. It took me three years to save that much."

Wayne found it difficult to explain. He recently had to buy a new house and forge a silver sword—both significant expenses. He and Geralt had been staying together, leaving no good excuse for the source of his funds. So Wayne could only reply vaguely, "When I defeated the wild dog gang last time, I made a small fortune. Although it's not enough to cover these expenses, I'll find a way when the time comes."

Seeing this, Geralt didn't press further and patted Wayne on the shoulder. Geralt's own money was only enough for basic expenses. After their last visit to the Queen of the Night, he had already spent a lot and had nothing extra to lend to Wayne.

After returning to the Fox Tavern, before Geralt could settle in, Jaskier came over again. He whispered something in Geralt's ear, and the two of them headed out together. Wayne probably guessed what they were up to—likely off to rescue those wandering women from loneliness again. Since Wayne had turned down their invitation several times, they no longer asked him to join them on such outings.

Wayne wasn't interested in such vulgar pursuits. With Geralt out for the afternoon, he could focus on opening another wave of treasure chests. Whether forging a silver sword or buying a house, he would need a large amount of money. Currently, he had less than a thousand Orens in total, and it was estimated he would need at least three thousand Orens to cover these expenses.

Greeted by Old Yueke behind the counter, Wayne was about to head upstairs when Old Yueke suddenly called out, "Hey! You little rascal, I've sold out your stuff. Remember to come and get your money."

Hearing this, Wayne looked back at Old Yueke and couldn't help but feel a little emotional. A local fixer like Yueke had managed to dispose of all the goods within a week. He was in need of money right now, and this was a timely boon.

Wayne thanked Old Yueke, but the old man snorted and said, "Hmph! The anniversary of your mother's death is coming up soon. Remember to donate a sum of money to the Church of Melitele and pay homage to your mother. If she hadn't insisted on sending you to become a Witcher, you might have died long ago."

Wayne, despite not being Martha's biological son, felt a deep sense of duty to honor her memory. He sought information about the anniversary of her death from Old Yueke and then returned to his room. The two horses he had acquired from the wild dog gang were sold through the black market. Old Yueke advised him to pay a handling fee of two hundred oren to maintain connections and ensure discretion.

Though Old Yueke could be somewhat arrogant, he didn't take advantage of Wayne. He efficiently disposed of other farm property, which he generously handed over to Wayne. With the money and goods settled, the transaction was completed.

Receiving the money promptly, Wayne did not refuse it. Before opening the treasure chest, his total property amounted to nearly two thousand Oren. Wayne took off his equipment, placing it on the table alongside the money in his room.

Despite not being superstitious, Wayne took a hot bath, changed into clean clothes, and offered prayers to the gods. Finally, he sat cross-legged on the bed, prepared to officially open the treasure chest.

He had a significant number of ordinary treasure chests and two expert-level treasure chests in his system—one hundred and one ordinary ones and one expert-level chest that had been opened in the Elven Ruins. After contemplating for a moment, Wayne took a deep breath and decided to start with the expert-level chest, which had a slightly higher chance of yielding valuable equipment.

Ding! The treasure chest opened.

Obtained: 124 pieces of Oren, a small magic storage bag.

Wayne was startled as the system sound rang out, announcing that he had acquired 124 pieces of Oren along with a small magic storage bag. The bag materialized beside him, resembling a money bag slightly larger than a fist, crafted from purple silk and adorned with magical inscriptions.

Upon hearing the system prompt, Wayne couldn't believe his luck. He opened his mouth in amazement and exclaimed, "What the hell! Is it the lucky attribute at work, or has the Goddess of Luck favored me so much?"

The term "magic storage bag" struck a chord with Wayne, as it was a common item in many magical worlds. Intrigued, he examined the purple magic storage bag closely. However, his excitement was tinged with disappointment after a thorough inspection.

While the bag could store small items, it had limitations. Despite its palm-sized exterior, the internal space was only about a quarter of a cubic meter, and it couldn't be deformed at will. The depth was a mere one meter, preventing even Wayne's steel sword from fitting entirely. Nevertheless, the storage bag had a redeeming quality—it eliminated the weight effect for items placed inside, allowing for the storage of gems or gold coins without affecting the bag's weight. This solved Wayne's problem of carrying heavy purses filled with gold coins, providing a convenient solution for his newfound wealth.

However, the magic storage bag turned out to be a simple, ordinary magical item with no concept of ownership identification. It seemed that anyone could retrieve the items inside, emphasizing the need for careful safeguarding. Wayne, mindful of the potential risks, set the storage bag aside and took a calming breath.

With the new storage bag, Wayne could now secure his wealth without concerns about exposure. Eager to make the most of his newfound resources, he decided to open all the treasure chests at once.

Ding! Opening Ordinary Treasure Chest *100.

Obtained: Oren 1033 pieces.

Ding! Opening Ordinary Treasure Chest *100.

Obtained: Oren 1075 pieces.

Ding! Opening Ordinary Treasure Chest *100.

Obtained: Oren 1143 pieces.

However, Wayne's luck appeared to dwindle as he consecutively opened several chests without obtaining anything beyond coins.

While the ordinary treasure chests only had a small chance of yielding items, getting nothing from several consecutive chests was considered particularly unlucky. Despite this setback, Wayne remained unperturbed, recognizing the value of the magic storage bag he had acquired, even if the subsequent chests yielded no additional items.

The system chimed again, *"Ding! Ordinary Treasure chest opening 100," and this time, Wayne received 998 pieces of Oren along with a substantial gift pack of snacks. As the system message concluded, a money bag and a sizable cardboard box, approximately a quarter of a cubic meter in size, materialized on his bed.

Wayne stood in silence for several seconds before proceeding to open the cardboard box with a perplexed expression. Inside, he discovered fifty cans of mineral water, fifty cans of assorted beverages, one hundred bags containing various potato chips and crackers, two hundred bags of M&M , and sixty to seventy bags of candies, chocolates, and biscuits. The contents filled the massive box to its brim.

Examining the characters on the packaging, Wayne recognized them as snacks from his own world before his transmigration, and his heart swelled with emotion. Despite seldom indulging in these junk foods during his training in his previous life, the classic tastes held sentimental value, deeply ingrained in the memories of every food enthusiast's childhood.

Nostalgia overwhelmed him, prompting Wayne to open a can of beverage and pick up a pack of chips. Slowly savoring the flavors of the past, he took his time, spending a good ten minutes indulging before sighing contentedly and settling back onto the bed.

In the final unboxing, Wayne abandoned any reservations and chose to open all the remaining boxes at once.

**"Ding, Opening Ordinary Treasure Chest 103, Expert Treasure Chest 1."

Obtained: 1323 pieces of Oren, five bottles of Invisible Potion.

Invisibility Potion: A high-level potion from the world of Faerun, refined by a high-level alchemist. Upon consumption, the user becomes invisible for three minutes, with a one-hour interval between doses.

In comparison to the magic storage bag, the Invisibility Potion seemed mediocre, serving as a consumable with a short duration. While it could be useful in emergencies, its limited duration diminished its appeal.

Wayne pondered whether the potion's effectiveness would be influenced by dimeritium. This remained uncertain, but based on his experience of opening expert treasure chests twice, he considered himself remarkably lucky. All the expert-level treasure chests had yielded valuable items, defying the odds of less than 5% of obtaining any useful equipment besides Oren.

While Wayne couldn't be certain if his luck was influenced by the four points from the Gwent card, he resolved to prioritize improving his Gwent card's level. In the world of The Witcher, the Game of Gwent held significant benefits—generating income, providing entertainment, and facilitating character leveling. Wayne deemed it a magical skill with vast potential.

While Wayne was caught up in the excitement of opening treasure chests, a mysterious visitor arrived at the elven ruins in Kaedwen. Inside a secluded room a hundred meters from the non-human camp, four oil lamps flickered in the corners, casting long shadows. An intricate magic circle, drawn with expensive magical materials, was inscribed on the floor's center.

At some indiscernible moment, the static magical top in the center of the circle began to rotate slightly. An invisible magical force caused the entire circle to emit a subtle glow. With a thud, the space above the spinning top tore open, creating an oval-shaped, space-like portal. After a few seconds of oscillation, the portal stabilized, and a slender figure in a long white dress and purple cloak, her face concealed by a hood, stepped out.

The woman surveyed her surroundings with piercing eyes before closing them to confirm her location. Her lips moved almost imperceptibly, and an unseen force emanated from her. Simultaneously, a hundred meters away in the camp, Toruviel, engrossed in her duties, suddenly froze as the metal bracelet on her wrist trembled slightly. The change in this magical accessory informed the female elf leader that the awaited visitor had finally arrived.

In the dimly lit room, a graceful figure patiently waited. Upon seeing the beautiful female elf by the portal, Toruviel promptly lowered her head, knelt on one knee, and spoke with reverence:

"Master Francesca, welcome. How may I serve you?"

Francesca, the elf sorceress with long dark golden hair and captivating blue eyes, revealed a charming smile. Extending her delicate arms, she gently embraced Toruviel, saying:

"No need for formalities, Toruviel. How are our people faring? I've brought supplies to sustain you for two months. They are placed just opposite the portal. Feel free to send someone to retrieve them."

Toruviel, deeply grateful, felt a renewed sense of loyalty. The refugees owed their secure existence in the elven ruins to the support of Lady Francesca. Without the provisions provided by the sorceress, this assembly of the elderly, weak, women, and children would have found it impossible to survive the winter in the desolate forest.

Acknowledging this, Toruviel rose, bowed slightly to Francesca, and continued:

"Master Francesca, with so many relying on your benevolence, we must have depleted your resources. Half a month ago, we cleared the ruins of all monsters and gathered a considerable amount of precious metals and antiques. If you don't mind, I would like to offer these findings as a token of our gratitude."

Francesca, upon hearing this, displayed a hint of surprise. She had provided Toruviel with the location of the ruins and was aware of the challenges posed by the numerous monsters within.

In her understanding, even with less than twenty warriors in the Toruviel camp, defeating these monsters would have likely resulted in heavy casualties. Yet, Toruviel wouldn't make such a claim lightly.

The elf sorceress inquired, "Toruviel, I've made preparations for quite some time, procuring numerous magical materials to aid in clearing the ruins. I didn't expect you to handle it on your own. How did you achieve this?"

Toruviel, being forthright, immediately shared with Francesca the details of hiring two Witchers, Geralt and Wayne. She also mentioned the inaccessible treasure house. After listening to the account, the beautiful elf sorceress showed a touch of surprise. She extended her white fingers, lightly tapping her lips, and after a few moments of contemplation, spoke:

"I've heard of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, and his formidable swordsmanship, active in the north for decades. As for the half-elf Witcher of the Wolf School, Wayne, I'm unfamiliar with him. It seems he's a new apprentice. It's intriguing—a rare occurrence to hear of a new Witcher, especially a half-elf."

"Your fortune is truly remarkable. Witchers are undoubtedly more adept and specialized in dealing with monsters compared to us sorcerers. However, to cleanse the ruins entirely, the strength of both of them is commendable. The scarcity of Witchers, with fewer than twenty in the entire north, explains the limited information about them."

As she spoke, Francesca retrieved a white veil from her pocket to conceal her appearance. She then offered another charming smile and remarked, "Let's go and visit the treasure house, to see what it holds. This elven dungeon belonged to an elf prince over a thousand years ago. Perhaps there are still treasures in his vault."

Toruviel had no objections to Francesca's suggestion. The elf sorceress was not only one of the five core members of the Warlock Brotherhood, the most powerful spellcasting organization globally, but also possessed royal elven blood, standing as one of the prominent figures in the elven clan. Even among the exceptionally beautiful sorceresses, Francesca was renowned as the world's most beautiful woman and represented the elves.

The two traversed most of the elven ruins and soon arrived at the treasure house, guarded by a mysterious metal gate. Before Toruviel could speak, Francesca furrowed her brow and remarked, "According to ancient texts, there should be a magic power node in this treasure house. How is it that this node has been damaged and transformed into a spatial rift? Could something have changed in the past thousand years?"

Faced with Francesca's inquiry, Toruviel could only shake her head, indicating her lack of knowledge.

The elf sorceress pondered, furrowed her brow for several seconds, and then smiled, her beauty radiant. She commented, "Nevertheless, that's acceptable. The Kingdom of Kaedwen has consistently been harsh towards non-human races, leading to the demise of many of our people due to their despicable methods."

"Their king, Henselt, is a stubborn and savage brute. He consistently dismisses the persuasions of our Warlock Brotherhood, displaying a repulsive attitude towards all spellcasters. He's simply an arrogant fool," Francesca expressed disdainfully. "This spatial crack could potentially allow less potent monsters from other worlds to enter here. Currently, I'm using spells to block it. In the future, when necessary, it should serve as a tool to teach Kaedwen a harsh lesson. Let that bastard know that without the assistance of a sorcerer, their so-called human army is nothing more than lunch for those alien creatures."

Toruviel, sharing the same resentment towards humans, naturally harbored no objections to Francesca's intentions. Following Francesca's instructions, she promptly gathered some magical materials and skillfully drew an advanced magic circle around the treasure house.

As the beautiful chants of the elf sorceress resonated through the air, a potent space lock materialized around the treasure house, brought to life by Francesca's vast chaotic magical power. At some point in the future, with the possession of the space key provided by Francesca, not only would this space lock be openable, but creatures from other worlds connected through the rift could also be unleashed from the stabilised rift, causing considerable trouble for the Kingdom of Kaedwen.