248. Yennefer's Talent.
Is it really a dying struggle?
Vera stared at Ianna.
An evil god is still a god.
And a god needs faith, relying on the number of believers to establish strength—this is a consensus in the world of sorcerers.
Mellitele is the god with the most believers in the entire world.
How strong must this evil god be to not only remain unaffected in Her sanctuary but also manage to knock Allen unconscious so suddenly?
Where did an evil god get so many followers?
"Don't worry, it's just the evil god's mark on Allen sensing a threat and instinctively fighting back."
Seeing that Vera still had a worried look on her face, Ianna patted her hand, then smiled at Allen, who looked somewhat puzzled and explained: "This is a good thing. This outburst has nearly exhausted ninety percent of the evil god's projected power."
"Now we don't even need seven days, about... hmm..." Ianna estimated, "Three days... three days will be enough."
This is a good thing... Allen thought.
He didn't think it was a big deal. If someone is dying, can't they at least struggle in their final moments?
Moreover, that force earlier, though it forcibly "turned" his consciousness, Allen felt he had the power to resist it.
But before he could speak—
"Let's stick to seven days!" Vera, still anxious, gripped Allen's hand tightly, her palm cold with sweat. "Just in case, stay in the sanctuary for the full seven days."
"Of course, no problem. Allen can stay with Grandma as long as he likes," Ianna reached out, gently messing up the Witcher's hair, took his hand, and said softly: "Come on, the others must be waiting impatiently."
Allen nodded and looked at the sorceress. The woman in the gray dress frowned slightly, her red lips pressed together, holding an unspoken sorrow.
"Don't worry, Miss Vera, it'll be alright," Allen said softly.
The sorceress nodded and said nothing more.
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The Temple of Mellitele had a large dining hall that could seat over a thousand people. From the high-ranking members of the temple, like Ianna, to the servants working there, everyone ate in this dining hall.
When Allen, Vera, and Ianna arrived, Vesemir and the others were already gathered at the entrance. From afar, they saw a little creature wrapped tightly in a black robe.
"By the way, Miss Vera," Allen turned his head to look at the sorceress.
The sorceress asked curiously, "What's the matter?"
"I... well... adopted a little girl. After dinner, can you help me check if she has any magical talent?"
Allen scratched his head and briefly explained how he had adopted Yennefer to the sorceress.
"What a good child!"
Hearing how he rescued Yennefer from a drunk father, Ianna, feeling pleased, patted his head again. Seeing the wrinkled and calloused hand approaching, Allen wanted to dodge, but his 48 points of strength and 42 points of agility seemed to vanish at that moment.
Allen, tilting his head, ended up bumping into Ianna's hand as if on his own.
"Ianna, stop teasing him," Vera intervened.
Ianna smiled as she ruffled Allen's hair again before withdrawing her hand. Vera helplessly shook her head and glanced at the small figure at the dining hall's entrance, draped in black cloth. To her, the ordinary black cloth seemed invisible.
"Spinal deformity, tissue and bone overgrowth..."
"It does look like long-term exposure to chaotic magic, but..." Vera turned her head to Allen, cautiously adding: "These features could just as easily be simple deformities with no connection to chaotic magic..."
After a brief pause, Vera continued:"And that's actually the most likely scenario."
Allen nodded at Vera's words.
Even though the little creature was named Yennefer, it was still possible that she had lost her magical gift.
After all, this world was quite different from the one in his past life or in the games. However, to Allen, it didn't really matter whether Yennefer had magical talent or not.
When he saved the little creature, he had no idea who she was.
Allen had only stepped in because he couldn't stand by and do nothing, and he had the ability to help—nothing more. Thus, the Witcher shook his head and said: "It doesn't matter, just test her. I didn't adopt her with any expectation of gaining something."
"I just want her to be able to support herself."
The sorceress looked at Ianna with pride in her eyes.
"What a good child!" Ianna's gaze toward Allen became even gentler and more affectionate, and she said softly: "Don't worry, even if no magical talent is found, the lady's temple is still willing to take her in."
"If she's pious and has talent, she could become a priestess, just like Lysa."
"Lady Mellitele is the mother of all, and she does not discriminate against her children based on appearance or disability."
"Moreover..."
"Even if she doesn't have any talent, we can teach her about herbs, medicine, and midwifery. As long as she's willing to put in the effort, she won't go hungry."
Allen was delighted to hear Ianna's words. Now, even if the little creature had no magical talent, she would still have a good future.
"Thank you, Grandma Ianna!" Allen said gratefully.
"No need to thank me," Ianna smiled warmly. "Good deeds deserve recognition, and the weak need support."
"This is what the Lady's servants should do."
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At mealtime, the area outside the dining hall was particularly crowded.
Not only were there priests and other temple workers, but there were also many noblewomen dressed in fine clothes, along with children being overseen by several middle-aged women.
Upon seeing the high priestess of Mellitele, many of them came over to offer a greeting, saying "Good afternoon" before quietly speculating about Vera and Allen's identities.
"Why is the high priestess accompanied by a Witcher?"
"Is the woman in the gray robe also a priestess? She's so beautiful!"
"Why does that Witcher look so young? Is he training with that handsome older Witcher who was standing at the gate earlier?"
"Probably. Look, they're both wearing the same emblem on their chests."
"He's so adorable! I hope my baby will grow up to look like him!"
"Yes! Especially those deep blue cat-like eyes... wow... they're clearer than the sea..."
"I really hope my baby will grow into a little knight like him, to protect me..."
"Better look now while you can. Maybe if you stare hard enough, your baby will turn out looking like this..."
"Huh? Is that really possible? Is there some kind of saying?"
"Listen, let me tell you..."
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The noblewomen's conversation grew increasingly bizarre, and their gazes toward the young Witcher became more and more intense. Gradually, even the temple staff who had finished lunch inexplicably joined in.
Allen's mouth twitched slightly. If it weren't for Ianna standing next to him, these bored women might really have rushed over to gawk at him.
"Alright, alright, no crowding here," Ianna, noticing Allen's awkwardness, chuckled and shooed the women away. "You're going to scare my guest away."
"Hahahahaha~"
Seeing Allen's flushed face, the surrounding women let out a wave of good-natured laughter. After that, the pregnant noblewomen became even bolder. Some people even came up and stared closely at Allen's face…
Some asked Ianna if looking at good-looking children often would result in giving birth to good-looking babies…
Some were even bold enough to directly ask if Allen accepted commissions, offering money just to stare at him…
It was a bit outrageous…
But honestly, the price for the commission skyrocketed so fast that even the wealthy Allen was somewhat tempted. If it weren't for Nenneke and Lysa noticing the commotion at the restaurant entrance and rushing over to chase away the women who were there just to cause a scene, Allen might really have agreed.
He couldn't help it, they were offering too much!
"High Priestess, they are still guests after all. How could you just stand by and do nothing?" After chasing the women away, Nenneke complained to Ianna with a hint of reproach.
"Hahaha, I did do something…" Ianna laughed heartily.
Nenneke rolled her pretty eyes. From her understanding of the High Priestess, she didn't need to ask to know what was going on. She gave Allen an apologetic smile: "Sorry, the High Priestess loves to joke around, but she means no harm."
At this moment,
Allen, who was still a bit dizzy from the various fragrances of the women earlier, finally realized the true meaning behind the High Priestess's words…
It seemed like she was stopping them, but she was actually fanning the flames. There was a hint of mischief in her actions. But considering that she had just saved Allen's life, what could he say?
He could only shake his head with a bitter smile, signaling to Nenneke that it was fine.
"This has nothing to do with me; it's just that Allen is too popular!" Ianna explained defensively.
Her words were kind. But for some reason, Allen felt that the High Priestess's gaze carried some hidden meaning.
What he didn't notice was that, From the very beginning, Vera had been smiling, and the smile never left her face.
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After reuniting with Vesemir's group, the sorceresses and Ianna both took an extra glance at the little monster.
Feeling somewhat sensitive, Yennefer timidly shrank behind Vesemir.
After a brief round of introductions, Ianna led them into the temple's dining hall. Dinner was a steaming hot chicken and mushroom stew, served with soft croissants slathered in butter. Although it was slightly inferior to what Mary made at the Orchard Inn, it was still quite delicious.
The group sat at a long table in the corner.
At first, the atmosphere was a bit awkward due to the presence of strangers at the table, but as time passed, things started to warm up.
The priestesses of the Goddess Melitele seemed to have a unique charm, making those with no ill intentions quickly lower their guard. Perhaps due to Lysa's presence, Nenneke deliberately steered the conversation toward the Apprentice Tournament at Ban Ard.
Vesemir and Allen, in a show of cooperation, described the scene during the conjunction of the spheres in vivid detail. Henselt died a gruesome death—his bones remained, but his face was unrecognizable. There was no need to embellish; telling the truth was enough to bring satisfaction.
Although the priestesses of the Goddess were neutral, no one could possibly have good feelings toward a cruel and tyrannical ruler. Especially when someone who had experienced it firsthand was sitting right there.
As Lysa listened, the once vibrant expression on her face began to falter, and tears started dripping onto the table. Perhaps she was reminded of something, as the droplets of her sorrow splashed softly on the wood.
The rest of the group tactfully chose not to acknowledge her tears, allowing her to release her grief.
Even young Clay, who looked puzzled and wanted to speak, was silenced by his sister, who gently covered his mouth.
"After leaving Ban Ard, has your journey been smooth?"
Vera looked at Lysa with sympathy before changing the subject.
"Mentor, the three of us joined forces to kill a archgriffin…"
Mary eagerly recounted their hunt, especially emphasizing Allen's bravery as he soared into the sky with the archgriffin.
Her vivid retelling elicited exclamations of amazement from both Nenneke and Ianna, and even brought a look of concern to Vera's eyes.
Mary, who had been paying close attention to her mentor, shuddered slightly when she noticed this expression and quickly shifted the topic to the war atmosphere in Vengerberg.
"Is that so? Another war is brewing..." Ianna sighed.
Nenneke's expression darkened as well. Seeing this, Allen suddenly recalled the Wild Hunt. So,
"Speaking of war, we encountered the Wild Hunt at Port Flotsam." Allen glanced at Vesemir, then asked, "Mother Ianna, does the temple have any records regarding the Wild Hunt?"
"The Wild Hunt?" Ianna looked puzzled at the young witcher. "Isn't that just an elven myth?"
It seemed they didn't have any records after all...
Allen sighed inwardly. He hadn't expected the Melitele Temple to launch a holy crusade against the Aen Elle, But given that humanity now dominated the world, the Wild Hunt, which hadn't yet revealed itself as a major threat, was still just some kind of monster to most.
Still, the Temple of Melitele was ancient; there might be some records or methods to counter the Wild Hunt. Unfortunately, it seemed that even the High Priestess of Melitele knew nothing about it.
But then again, Ianna might have been a high priestess, but she was likely not even half of Vesemir's age.
If even Vesemir didn't know, how could Ianna?
Though a bit disappointed, Allen still explained their encounter with the Wild Hunt at Port Flotsam. Of course, since they were unfamiliar with the priestesses of Melitele, he refrained from mentioning the Aen Elle for the time being.
With Vesemir and Mary's additions, they finished recounting the events at Port Flotsam. Ianna gave Vera a surprised look and said: "The Wild Hunt really exists in this world? I always thought it was just a bedtime story…"
Vera, meeting Ianna's gaze, shook her head, indicating that she, too, knew nothing about the Wild Hunt.
"But just because I don't know doesn't mean the temple has no records..."
Under Allen's hopeful gaze, Ianna pondered for a few moments before turning to Nenneke and Lysa: "Nenneke, take Lysa with you over the next few days and search the old archives. See if there are any records related to the Wild Hunt..."
Hearing that Nenneke and Lysa would be troubled, Allen felt a bit embarrassed:"This... this would be too much trouble for the two priestesses…"
"Trouble? The Wild Hunt has caused the Lady to lose many children and made others lose their beloved kin…"
"Relieving the Lady's burden is our duty..."
Lysa didn't say anything but gave Allen a solemn nod.
"Do what you need to do. We'll help organize the records." Vesemir stood up to clear the table, looking as if he intended to work through the night on the archives.
"No need to rush."
Ianna smiled, stopping Vesemir and the eager Mary, and then turned her gaze to the little monster wrapped in black cloth:"Before we check the archives, there's something else we need to take care of…"
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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249. The Light of the Little Monster.
250. The Little Priestess's Gift.
251. Who's Calling Me?
252. The Destroyer of the World.
253. What Wolf Doesn't Eat the Lamb at Its Doorstep?