I'm not a Witcher anymore.

"Milestone Achieved - King Killer: Slay a Goblin King"

"The Gift Has Arrived: A 'Special' Evidence Box"

"Evidence Box: When using this item, simply recite the name of a royal family that currently exists or once existed in the world. The power within the box will automatically correct the current world's understanding of this royal bloodline, making your origin and identity reasonable and convincing the world that you are indeed a descendant of that royal family who has continued to this day."

"Main Quest 3 Completed: Eliminate the Goblin Army About to Attack the Border Town"

"The gift has arrived: 'Equipment' Langrisser"

Countless specks of light gathered and compressed in Zig's palm, eventually solidifying into a physical form.

The light faded, and a sheathed longsword appeared in his hand.

The scabbard is matte black, with several metal ornaments on the scabbard body bearing a distinct iris pattern.

The hilt is long and slender, covered with interwoven silver patterns. It feels stable to hold, and there is still room to grip it with both hands.

The handguard is shaped like a cross and extends to both sides, with small hook-shaped ornaments at each end. At the center of the handguard, there is a small shield-shaped emblem with a prominent cross in the center.

Zig gripped the hilt, his thumb against the guard, and gently pushed upwards.

Clang——

A cold, frosty blade slid out of its sheath.

With a crisp, long sound of metal scraping together, Sieg slowly drew his longsword.

The sword is long and straight, like a pool of autumn water.

The silver-white blade was extremely clean, with a narrow, dark silver pattern running down its center from the hilt.

There was no dazzling magical light, but a pure sense of sharpness rushed towards you.

"Langriza (Rare) - Traits: Cuts through iron like butter, never wears out"

"It can cut through iron like mud: even the strongest armor is as thin as paper before this sword, and nothing can stop its sharpness."

"Never worn out: This blade remains as sharp as it was when it was first forged, its edge unchanged through the years."

Zieg glanced down at the sword's edge, then flicked his wrist, sending the longsword flashing with a short, cold light.

After confirming the feel of the sword, he didn't look at it any longer. Once the longsword was sheathed, he put it into his Book of Adventure.

Then, he took out the evidence box from the Book of Adventure.

The box is long and narrow, with an old silver sheen. It is flat on all four sides, but the top is not an ordinary lid. Instead, it is slightly bulging, like a miniature palace.

The two sloping sides are engraved with fine lines, which resemble branches and crowns commonly seen in royal coats of arms, and also carry a sense of solemnity that is only found in church relics.

A tiny clasp hangs from the front of the box, with a dull white crystal embedded in the center of the clasp. At first glance, it is inconspicuous, but if you linger on it for even a moment, you will feel a strange, inexplicable feeling, as if this thing was never meant to fall into the hands of mortals.

Zieg held the evidence box for a moment, his fingertips slowly stroking its cool, old silver surface.

If this thing were placed in another world, it might be enough to stir up a storm surrounding bloodlines, succession rights, and the throne.

In the world of Witcher, while law and lineage are important, they are never the only things that can suppress all dissent.

At least in the original work, two completely different examples are presented at the same time.

On one side was the Nilfgaardian Emperor.

Even if he conquered Sintra by force and commanded an army of 300,000, he would still need to marry the fake Ciri to complete the final legal step for the Sintra throne.

On the other side is Rafald, one of the earliest warlocks and the legendary warlock who ended the six-year war.

The people of Temeria almost unanimously supported his coronation as king, but he ultimately refused the crown and only accepted the position of royal advisor.

These two things, when placed side by side, actually make the rules of this continent very clear.

Sometimes, lineage and status can indeed determine many things; but when a person's power and prestige reach a certain level, the so-called legal principles themselves become less reliable.

Zig stopped thinking about it.

He put the evidence box back into the Book of Adventures.

Just because you don't need it now doesn't mean you won't need it in the future.

What really caught his attention was the last line of text that appeared in the Book of Adventure.

Only by absorbing the mysterious creations of the main world can new dungeon worlds be unlocked.

Kaer Mohan is surrounded by mountains and isolated from the world, making it difficult for outsiders to enter.

But precisely because of this, the place is so far removed from the mortal world that the mystical creations one can come into contact with are pitifully few.

If he stays here any longer, he will only get less and less.

He quickly made up his mind.

As soon as it was light, he went to find Vesemir and asked him to come down the mountain.

……

Sunlight streamed into the room through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting a golden beam of light across the floor and illuminating Vesemir's weathered face.

For the first time in a long time, he woke up in bed.

Unlike a few days ago, when I would open my eyes to find myself hunched over a desk piled high with ancient books, or curled up in a worn-out armchair with my neck stiff as a stone.

Vesemir gazed at the crisscrossing wooden beams overhead.

Sunlight falls on the cracks and wormholes left by the years, and dust floats slowly in the beams of light.

After a while, he slowly came to his senses, and the memories of last night gradually resurfaced in his mind.

Geralt is back.

He was still carrying the letter Yennefer had sent him.

In the letter, Yennefer asked Geralt to go to Willowby to see her.

Vesemir understood perfectly well why Geralt hadn't set off immediately, but instead returned to Kaer Morhen to seek his help.

He also knew Yennefer, and had known her for many years.

That sorceress was never a peaceful person.

Intrigues, court intrigues, gatherings of sorcerers, royal conflicts—trouble that others would avoid at all costs, yet she always manages to stumble into them.

Especially during the two years Geralt lost his memory, Yennefer was trapped in the Nilfgaardian Empire.

He was worried he would run into trouble.

Since Geralt had spoken, Vesemir naturally wouldn't refuse.

What truly troubled him was Zieg.

There have been times before when he was left alone in Kaer Mohen.

Witchers always have to go down the mountain to pick up commissions; they can't stay in the castle all year round.

But things are different then and now.

The situation outside has changed long ago. War, deserters, bandits, and various forces are stirring up trouble in the north. No one can say for sure which wind might blow into these mountains.

He lay in bed thinking for a long time, but still couldn't come up with a truly win-win solution.

Finally, he could only sigh and prop himself up to sit up.

Forget it.

Let's go get something to eat first.

Perhaps drinking hot soup will clear my head.

Vesemir put on his coat, pushed open the door to the room, and slowly walked down the stone steps.

As soon as I entered the lobby, the aroma of food wafted towards me.

The aroma of toasted bread, the savory fragrance of bacon rendered from oil, and the warm, comforting scent of spices in the stew all blend together.

Sure enough, Zieg had already prepared breakfast.

The items were neatly arranged on the long table.

The bread was golden brown with slightly charred edges;

The bacon was fried to perfection, with the fat glistening lightly on the surface;

A large pot of thick vegetable soup was steaming, with a plate of fried eggs on the side.

The fire in the fireplace burned steadily, and the entire hall was filled with warmth and the aroma of food.

"Zig, I dare say, even the king's chef couldn't make something this delicious."

Geralt sat at the table, forking a piece of bacon with a silver knife, his tone full of genuine appreciation.

"If you weren't a witcher, you could open a tavern in any city and make a living with this skill alone."

Zieg simply smiled and didn't respond.

Vesemir walked to the table and sat down, first scooping a spoonful of hot soup into his mouth.

A spoonful of hot soup dispelled the chill of the morning, and the weight on his heart seemed to lighten a little as well.

The three of them didn't say much and quietly finished their breakfast.

Zig collected the bowls and plates from the table one by one and took them to the kitchen sink to wash them.

Clear water rinsed over the earthenware bowl and silver knife, making a soft gurgling sound.

He returned to the hall only after all the tableware had been washed, dried, and put back in its place.

Vesemir and Geralt were talking quietly when they both stopped as Sieg's footsteps approached.

"Teacher Vesemir, there's something I'd like to tell you."

Vesemir was slightly taken aback.

Zieg rarely makes any requests on his own initiative.

He always does his job perfectly, whether it's training or daily routines, without needing anyone to keep an eye on him.

That's why Vesemir was somewhat surprised.

The fact that Zieg spoke so solemnly meant it was probably no small matter.

"Teacher, I have learned everything I can in Kaer Mohen. I am ready to go down the mountain and experience the outside world."