I'm not a Witcher anymore.

"Don't come any closer!" Zoltan raised his battle axe, blade held horizontally in front of him. "This axe isn't just for show!"

Zieg stopped in his tracks:

"Zoltan, Dandelion."

The two were stunned.

Zoltan frowned, still holding the axe: "You know us? You are...?"

Instead of answering directly, Zieg took out a badge from his pocket and gently dangled it in the moonlight.

It was a silver wolf head badge, exquisitely carved, with the wolf's eyes gleaming coldly in the dim light.

"I'm Geralt's friend, you recognize me, right?"

Zoltan's eyes widened even more, and he finally lowered the axe a little.

Dandelion squinted at Sieg, then at the badge, a puzzled expression on his face:

"You're a Witcher too? Wait... what's wrong with your eyes? Geralt's eyes are like a cat's, golden yellow, definitely not an ordinary person. Your eyes look... just like a normal person's."

"I was trained in Kaer Mohen, and I also come from the Wolf School."

He glanced at the corpses lying scattered around him, and smelled the increasingly strong stench of blood in the river breeze:

"This is not the place to talk. Soon, the guards or night patrols will notice what's going on here. Let's leave first."

After saying that, Zieg turned and left.

Zoltan and Dandelion exchanged a glance.

The dwarf hesitated for a moment, glanced at the corpse on the ground, then at Sieg's departing figure, and finally gritted his teeth:

"Let's go, it's better than staying in this godforsaken place."

"But he..." Dandelion wanted to say something more.

"Are you still waiting for the guards to come and question us?" Zoltan interrupted him. "We won't be able to explain ourselves no matter how hard we try. Besides, if he wanted to kill us, he would have done it already. Why bother?"

Dandelion thought about it and agreed that it made sense.

So the two of them quickly caught up with Zig.

The three of them walked through the night, avoiding the main street and patrolling guards, and choosing to go through secluded alleys and shadowy places.

Not long after, Zig led them back to the front of his hotel.

The hotel door was closed, with a wooden bolt still in place, indicating that the business had closed long ago.

But Zieg looked up and saw that his room window was still open—a backup plan he had deliberately left before leaving.

"How do we get up there...?"

Zieg didn't explain; the air swirled around his leg.

Before Dandelion could finish speaking, he was suddenly lifted into the air.

He felt a tightness behind his collar, as if something was holding him up, followed by a feeling of weightlessness as if he were floating on clouds.

He instinctively tried to struggle, but his body was out of control, and all he could hear was the whistling wind.

By the time he finally realized what was happening, his feet were already on the solid floor—he was already in a room on the second floor.

Dandelion stood there dumbfounded, his face pale, his legs weak, his mouth agape, unable to utter a word for a long time.

Zoltan, who remained on the street outside, witnessed the entire process clearly.

Sieg grabbed Dandelion by the back of his collar with one hand and his belt with the other, then pushed off with his feet, leaping into the air with the bard in tow.

His figure traced a clean arc in the moonlight, as light as a night hawk, and instantly flew into the open window on the second floor.

"Damn it..." Zoltan muttered under his breath, gripping his battle axe tightly, as if it would bolster his courage.

The next moment, Zig jumped out of the second-floor window and landed steadily in front of Zoltan.

The dwarf looked at Sieg's outstretched hand, swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and adopted an expression of resignation, as if facing certain death on the gallows.

"Come on, come on, stop dawdling."

Zig couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

He reached out and grabbed Zoltan's thick belt—the dwarf weighed much more than Dandelion—then pushed off with his feet and leaped into the air again.

Zoltan felt a sudden dizziness, the wind whistling in his ears. He closed his eyes tightly, his teeth grinding together, and he held back a curse.

A moment later, he felt his feet touch the ground again, and then he cautiously opened his eyes—he was already in a room on the second floor.

The dwarf let out a long breath, patted his chest, and muttered:

"Next time, let's just take the stairs... My heart can't handle this kind of stimulation."

Zieg gestured for the two to sit down, then took out the Wolf School badge from his pocket again and handed it directly to Dandelion this time.

"You can take a closer look."

Dandelion took the badge, turned it over and over, and examined it closely by candlelight.

His fingers traced the patterns on the badge's surface, feeling the weight and warmth of the silver. He even gently scratched the wolf's eyes with his fingernail to confirm that it wasn't just a plated decoration.

"This...this is indeed the Witcher's badge," Dandelion murmured, "exactly the same as Geralt's. Even the details are exactly the same."

Zoltan also came over to take a look:

"That's right, I've seen it countless times with Geralt. This thing can't be faked, especially the craftsmanship... Nobody outside of this industry knows how to make it."

Only at this point did Zoltan finally put the battle axe aside completely.

"Okay, I believe you."

But Dandelion couldn't help but speak up:

"Wait, don't rush to reminisce."

Dandelion held up a finger, his expression as serious as if he were questioning an inspiration that had been missing for three days:

"There's something I absolutely need to ask, otherwise I definitely won't be able to sleep tonight."

"Just now... just now outside," Dandelion swallowed hard, still feeling lingering fear as he recalled the weightless feeling of floating on clouds. "How did you get Zoltan and me up here? The window is so high off the ground, and you just pushed off with your feet and got up there, without even a place to grab on."

His eyes widened and he became more and more excited as he spoke:

"Is this the Witcher's new sign? I've followed Geralt for so many years, and I've never seen him use anything like this! Yarden, Igni, Alder, Quen, Axe, Heliotrope—just these six, right? Geralt only ever uses these few moves over and over again."

"Has Kael'thas invented a seventh sign? What's its name? How is it activated? What does it require? When you were carrying me and Zoltan earlier, it felt... it felt like we were being lifted by the wind. Is it related to the wind element?"

A barrage of questions came out of his mouth like a machine gun, his eyes sparkling with the almost fanatical curiosity characteristic of a poet.

Zieg looked at the bard who couldn't stop once he had a spark of inspiration, and didn't answer. He just raised the corners of his mouth slightly, revealing a meaningful smile.

Dandelion immediately understood from Sieg's expression.

"...Fine, fine," he said, leaning back in his chair in frustration and waving his hand. "I know the secrets of the Witcher, I know."

"Then let's change the subject. Where's Geralt? Did you come together?"

Ziglar moved over and sat down in a chair.

"That's a long story. But before I answer your questions... I'd like to hear your stories first."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the two faces:

"For example, why are you here? Why did you flee Ben Green overnight?"

Zoltan and Dandelion exchanged a glance, and the dwarf sighed, as if he had made up his mind.

"Since you're Geralt's friend, I have nothing to hide." Zoltan leaned back in his chair. "Those people weren't wrong—according to the Cordwinians, I am indeed a member of the Vergen rebels."

Zieg raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt him.

"After Phrygian was captured by the Nilfgaardians, most of the rebels either died in battle or fled."

Zoltan continued, his voice tinged with weariness and bitterness.

"I was lucky; I managed to break through with Dandelion and a small group of men."

"But they hadn't gone far when they encountered pursuers in black, and the group was scattered."

"It was just Dandelion and me who fled in a panic all the way to Ben Green, hoping to find a boat to Novigrad."

"That Dandelion guy, he patted his chest and guaranteed that he would find a reliable middleman to help us contact a captain who can go to Novigrad... You know what happened next."

Sieg nodded, then turned to Dandelion: "And what about you? How did you, a bard, get involved with the Vergen rebels?"