300. The Evolution of the Mirage Pearl.

Mary, of course, had no objections, and her big, watery eyes were filled with tears of relief, as if she'd finally found a savior.

Allen wasn't quite as confident in himself. But this had little to do with Mary, and besides, he genuinely felt that Lady Vera wasn't so petty. He went up to the tower, to the alchemy room on the third floor, and knocked.

There was no response for a long time.

"Looking for me?"

A cold female voice suddenly came from behind him.

Allen jumped in surprise.

He couldn't help but wonder where Vera had been, given that the southern tower had so few places. But right now, Mary's issue, and her tear-streaked face, was more pressing.

After organizing his thoughts, Allen spoke softly: "I came to apologize…"

The sorceress stared at him expressionlessly, and Allen felt a bit of pressure. He swallowed and continued: "A certain witcher apprentice at the city gate spoke out of line…"

"Do you also think I'm old?" Vera interrupted suddenly.

Allen froze.

A woman's focus is always different from a man's.

When he heard "evil old witch," he thought the offensive parts were "evil" and "witch," as those were severe insults to one's character and profession. But Vera's fixation was on the word "old."

But was Vera actually old?

The witcher studied her carefully.

Female sorcerers were always beautiful. With magic and potions, they froze time at a woman's most beautiful moment. Some even used certain cosmetic spells, appearing more attractive than they naturally would. So, from the outside, sorceresses were perpetually youthful and beautiful.

Aging wasn't even a consideration.

But from an age perspective, what exactly defines aging?

For humans, the average lifespan of an adult might not even reach fifty in this world. But as for sorcerers, the first male wizard, Hen Gedymdeith, was still alive, sitting firmly in the dean's office at Ban Ard.

He's outlived countless vice deans.

Of course.

These thoughts drifted through Allen's mind, a remnant of his logical, scientific background from his past life. Although his emotional intelligence wasn't stellar, it wasn't so poor that he didn't know what to say in this situation.

But just as he was about to utter some words of praise, Vera sighed suddenly: "I am old…"

The witcher paused.

Vera walked to the open window on the spiral corridor. The sun was setting, and twilight bathed everything in a golden glow.

"I raised Ianna," she looked out at the crimson sunset, her voice soft, "When I took her in, she was only four or five years old."

"She was lively and mischievous as a child, always causing trouble. She once turned the wizard tower I was at into complete chaos, even driving away many etiquette teachers I had hired for her."

"When she grew older, it only got worse; she would follow the village boys to horse races all day long, insisting on attending every competition around Aretuza."

"Of course…" Vera paused, "She was very talented and earned several awards."

"Since she had no magical talent, she couldn't live like us sorceresses in the future. Her only path was to marry into a good family."

"So one day, in a fit of anger, I scolded her for not being ladylike enough and asked how she planned to marry in the future, only for her to snap back, 'If I don't marry, then I won't marry. I'll just live off my winnings from horse racing for the rest of my life.'"

The witcher stood beside the sorceress.

He watched the magnificent golden sunlight illuminate Vera's gentle features with a motherly glow.

Vera really did care for Ianna…

Allen thought.

He had never imagined that the Archpriestess of the Melitele Temple had such a rebellious past.

Wasn't that just a little troublemaker?

He wondered how she ended up becoming a priestess of Melitele's temple.

"But…" Vera turned to look at Allen, "Though Ianna didn't marry, ever since I sent her to the Melitele Temple for a certain reason, she's never raced horses again."

"Now, she's too old to ride…"

"She's aged to the point of near death…"

Allen fell silent.

He didn't know what to say in this moment. Perhaps Vera didn't need him to speak; he was just an empty listener, a space that let her set aside her troubles for a while.

After she finished speaking, Vera grew silent for a long time, watching him for so long that he thought time had frozen.

"Allen…" she suddenly called.

The witcher paused, replying, "I'm here. What's the matter, Lady Vera?"

"I both wish you'd grow up quickly and stay just as you are…" Vera's mind seemed to wander.

The sorceress's words sounded a bit odd, so Allen forced a smile and said: "Lady Vera, witchers live quite a long time, too."

"And if I don't grow fast, how will you get a return on your investment?"

At that, Vera gave a faint, distant smile: "True, I still need a return on my investment…"

With the crimson clouds outside the window framing her smile, she was indescribably beautiful.

Who would dare say she was old?

Coming back to her senses, Vera's smile faded, and she reached out to ruffle the witcher's hair, saying with a trace of sorrow, "So grow up quickly…"

"…As fast as you can…"

She paused and added, "I am old, and there's not much more I can do…"

Without giving Allen a chance to retort that she wasn't actually old, she waved her hand dismissively, jesting, "Go rest. It's been half a year. I should think about how to get my investment back."

Then, with a snap of her fingers, she opened the door and walked into the alchemy room.

Bang!

The door closed.

"What just happened?" The witcher looked at the intricate patterns on the alchemy room door, scratching his head. He couldn't quite understand why the sorceress had suddenly turned so melancholic.

As he walked back to his "large flat," just about to open the door, the witcher suddenly realized he'd forgotten something important.

He had come to the sorceress to plead on Mary's behalf, but after barely starting to take responsibility for the apprentices' words at the city wall, Vera's reflection had interrupted him.

Now… it didn't seem appropriate to try breaking into the alchemy room again.

The witcher felt a pang of frustration.

"Lady Vera is currently lost in thoughts of aging, and considering she tolerated the once rebellious Ianna, she likely won't hold this incident against Mary."

"Hopefully…?"

He convinced himself uncertainly. Then, deciding there was nothing more he could do about it, he silently wished Mary luck. As he retrieved his key from the doormat and prepared to open the door, he wondered how best to clean his place.

Being gone so long, even though he had closed the balcony door before leaving, he was sure a layer of dust had settled. Just as he found the key and was about to unlock the door…

He found door lock had already been opened.

"Hmm?"

Someone had been here?

As the door was pushed open, the room was spotless. In the center, behind a wooden screen, there was a gentle steam rising.

He took a light breath.

The fragrance of orange and clove lingered in the air, warm and soothing.

After a moment of silence, someone let out a faint sigh.

"Isn't this… a bit too much?"

---------------------

The night passed without incident.

The usually vigilant Allen indulged himself this time. After enjoying a hot bath, he didn't head to the castle hall for a meal. Instead, he munched on the dried meat he carried with him, then went straight to bed for a rest.

His first night back at Kaer Morhen, the Witcher didn't meditate; he fell asleep naturally.

The next morning.

Allen woke from his soft bed, and the first thing he saw was the sky. A clear, cloudless blue sky.

"Hmm?"

"The sky?"

Sensing something amiss, the Witcher quickly turned over, instinctively reaching for Elsa. Only to grasp empty air. Looking down, he realized he was still in the silk robe he'd put on the night before.

"Damn it! I took off my armor and weapons before bed…" the Witcher cursed inwardly, "and…"

"What is this place?"

"How did I end up here?"

Who could have silently transported him from Kaer Morhen to this unknown location?

Not to mention that Vera was just downstairs.

Though he'd removed his sword and armor, he still wore his wolf medallion. How could someone move him without the medallion even reacting?

He glanced around warily.

Blue skies, warm sunlight, green grass, flowers, and a flowing stream...

Gradually, the Witcher felt a strange sense of familiarity and comfort around him, as if…

He could control everything he saw.

Moreover…

After calming down, he noticed that although the ground looked like solid soil, stepping on it felt exceptionally soft, almost like his own bed.

No!

This had to be his bed!

Realizing this, the Witcher quickly put two and two together. After observing his surroundings again, a surge of joy filled his heart. He closed his eyes immediately.

Indeed!

In his mind, aside from the usual connection to the wolf medallion, the previously thin, thread-like link to the Mirage Pearl was now pulsating with waves flowing from the pearl to his mind, strengthening the once-fragile white thread into a solid cord.

When the Witcher's thoughts "gazed" at it, a burst of excitement emanated from the pearl.

After more than a month, the Mirage Pearl was finally close to absorbing the "dead Mirage Pearl."

No wonder the wolf medallion hadn't alerted him.

Though not under his control, the illusion conjured by the Mirage Pearl was no different from the signs he used.

How could the wolf medallion possibly respond to his own "actions"?

"So, that realistic scene outside was an unintentional illusion created by the Mirage Pearl?" While waiting for the Mirage Pearl to evolve, the Witcher opened his eyes, marveling at the lifelike illusion before him.

No wonder it felt so familiar.

Aside from the lack of buildings, the blue sky, warm sun, green grass, flowers, and flowing stream resembled the scene outside the orchard.

In other words, it mirrored the orchard scene beneath the abandoned castle of Viscount Hudson.

"Tsk, tsk, this is so realistic. The Mirage Pearl has truly evolved this time," the Witcher clicked his tongue in admiration.

Though he vaguely felt he could control the illusion before him, Allen refrained from interfering, not wanting to disrupt the pearl's upgrade.

Instead, he walked down from the soft "earth," exploring this familiar-yet-foreign "orchard" based on his memory of its layout.

Since the Mirage Pearl hung around his neck, this scene had to be centered on the Witcher himself.

As he moved, the ground, though feeling like a soft carpet, did seem to shift with him in the illusion. Even more surprising, when he stepped off the bed, the illusionary ground formed a slope as he descended.

There was no sense of discord.

The south tower's top-floor room wasn't small, but the evolving Mirage Pearl's illusion managed to envelop the entire space as if tangible.

Before absorbing the "dead Mirage Pearl," Allen could barely use the Mirage Pearl's powers to conceal himself at night, with only a limited range.

In terms of detail and scope, the illusion had seen substantial improvement.

Of course, there were still some shortcomings.

When he'd first woken up, he hadn't realized it, but the Mirage Pearl's current illusion only affected sight.

Touch, hearing, smell, and taste remained unaffected.

Not to mention the Hudson Viscount's hidden cave, where touch, sound, and smell could deceive and even mimic human behavior, disorienting people in the darkness with unique powers.

But Allen was satisfied.

It had only been half a year since he acquired the Mirage Pearl, and its upgrades were already this remarkable. No need for anything extra.

Besides.

The "dead Mirage Pearl" likely had such a strong effect because of its own power, combined with Sadia's layout and control in the cave.

There might have even been ritual magic arrays involved.

Though Vera had stripped Sadia of her casting abilities, her knowledge as an immortal elf mage remained intact. Thinking of Sadia, the Witcher's mind wandered.

"I wonder when the reinforcements from Aen Seidhe will arrive?"

Although his primary enemy, Henselt, was dead, the animosity from wizards and nobility wouldn't simply disappear. The defense of Kaer Morhen might still be unavoidable, though its timing and intensity could vary. Thus, an alliance with Aen Seidhe remained valuable.

After all, since they shared a common origin with Aen Elle, Allen couldn't believe he wouldn't be able to pry useful information about the Wild Hunt from those pointed ears.

"It just requires the right approach…" he mused.

"Tweet~"

Suddenly, a crisp bird's call echoed in his mind, interrupting his thoughts.

At the same time, the illusion before him vanished, and the surrounding scene returned to normal.

The Mirage Pearl, now glowing with a radiant white light, floated up from his chest, affectionately rubbing against the Witcher's cheek, feeling as smooth and warm as a jade sphere.

"Tweet tweet tweet~"

The freshly awakened Mirage Pearl seemed clingy, conveying its feelings of affection in his mind like a dog reuniting with its owner after a long separation. Its nuzzling against his cheek only made this sensation clearer.

"Alright, alright, I missed you too," Allen patted the Mirage Pearl with his right hand.

Not only had the illusionary effects improved, but after absorbing the "dead Mirage Pearl," its intelligence had also increased significantly. It was like watching a one-year-old child mature to the level of a four- or five-year-old.

"Knock knock knock~"

Just as Allen was about to conduct further tests, a knock sounded on his door.

"Are you up, Allen?"

"The Chief is looking for you…"

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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301. Do You Want to Be the Chief?

302. "Daddy's" Favorite Child.

303. Who's Stronger, the Commander or the Deputy Commander?

304. My Apprentice Can Trick Me a Second Time?

305. Getting Serious.