I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

The Witcher nodded slightly.

"Yes. Five directions, fifteen professions."

"The profession that can encompass more extraordinary concepts is relatively stronger."

Ivan paused for a moment, then asked the question he really wanted to ask.

"What about the Witcher?"

Those figures who had remained silent by the campfire seemed to stir slightly the moment the question was asked.

The Witcher sighed.

"It's a pity. Witchers, sorceresses, and mages are not in the mainstream supernatural system and are considered low-class professions."

"These three kinds of existence are all quite ancient names. However, they have become complicated because they contain too many things."

"Since we don't have a well-established symbol of excellence, we have to figure out the path we should take ourselves."

Ivan opened his mouth.

The truth was far more absurd and unbelievable than he had imagined.

At this moment, he finally understood why Hill had reacted so strongly that night when he heard the vampire call him a "scumbag."

That's not just a simple insulting term.

That was the contempt and disdain of the entire mainstream supernatural system for her faction.

The Witcher smiled, the firelight casting flickering shadows on his mask.

"However, everything has its good and bad sides."

"While these three professions may not go as far down the path of the extraordinary as mainstream professions, they are relatively more free."

"Mainstream professions are strictly constrained by their own paths, which then leads to sensitivity, obsession, and madness."

"Because every step they take has been paved by those who came before them, they must continue along that path."

"We, on the other hand, are much freer and more normal."

"Otherwise, our meeting wouldn't have been so peaceful."

He paused for a moment, his tone becoming somewhat heavy.

"Of course, the cost is that, due to the lack of a clear direction, the mortality rate is high and the potential for growth is low."

He looked at the campfire, the flames dancing in his golden vertical pupils.

"A profession is simply a framework that has been summarized for you by predecessors."

"I'll tell you what you should do, what you shouldn't do, what suits you, and what doesn't."

After hearing this, Ivan felt much calmer.

With the Kowloon Panel, the mortality rate is a lower variable for him than for any other Witcher.

"Then how should I cultivate myself, how can I become stronger?"

The Witcher placed his silver longsword across his lap and stopped wiping it.

"Generally speaking, witchers can only reach the first three of the nine stages of the transcendent realm."

He raised his index finger.

"Mastering a complete basic extraordinary trait, and achieving breakthrough in spiritual vision, is considered an entry-level skill. Rank: Apprentice."

The middle finger also stood up.

"After mastering three extraordinary characteristics, his spiritual vision broke through to level ten. Rank: Expert."

Ring finger.

"By fusing these three extraordinary qualities together, life is elevated, and spiritual vision surpasses level twenty. Rank: Master."

At this point, he lowered his hand and gave a wry smile.

The laughter, coming through the black face mask, sounded particularly tired.

"This is the limit that our lineage can reach."

He raised his head, and the light in his golden vertical pupils dimmed slightly at that moment.

"How you proceed from here on out is up to you, child..."

The dreamlike sound, like ripples on a lake, eventually subsided.

wake up.

Evan turned his head to look at the pocket watch on the bedside table.

It was exactly six o'clock in the morning.

He got up, sat on the edge of the bed, and first wound up his pocket watch.

The subtle clicking of gears turning could be clearly heard in the quiet bedroom, each click like a rhythm to keep his jumbled thoughts in check.

The memories that suddenly appeared in my mind are slowly returning to their place.

The extraordinary in this world contains too many counterintuitive things.

The three extraordinary professions that have been celebrated in myths and legends for thousands of years have become despised and lowly in reality.

Witcher, sorceress, wizard.

These names, which should be the most significant in folk tales, are now marginalized and excluded from the mainstream supernatural system.

"Perhaps it's because these three professions aren't 'mysterious' enough."

He gave himself a flimsy explanation.

"You chicken~!"

As I got up, the springs on the iron bunk bed emitted their familiar, strange squeals.

As soon as he put on his shirt, Evan's thoughts drifted back to the topic in his dream.

"Are there really no books?"

He was still somewhat unconvinced by what the Witcher predecessors had said.

The fact that he was a soul who came back to life from the 21st century on Earth made it difficult for him to accept the counterintuitive premise that "knowledge cannot be written down".

He picked up a piece of scrap paper from the table, took a dip pen from the pen holder, and dipped it into the ink bottle.

First, write down the word "knight".

That's normal. The ink seeps into the rough fibers of the straw paper, leaving clear pen marks.

Then write "sun".

Also normal.

"So what do we get when we put them together?" he murmured to himself.

"The Knight Under the Sun's Path"

The moment I finished writing, something strange happened.

The six words on the paper swayed slightly in front of his eyes, as if he were looking at them through a layer of mist.

An invisible force acted on the ink, and the position of the characters moved on their own right before his eyes, reorganizing into a new line of words: Knight under the Sun.

Ivan hadn't reacted yet.

hula.

The entire sheet of paper turned black from the center in a way that defied the laws of physics, with the blackened edges spreading rapidly outwards, as if an invisible fire inside the paper was gnawing at the fibers.

In less than two seconds, the entire sheet of toilet paper turned into a pile of ashes, which fluttered down between his fingers.

The desktop was so clean it looked like nothing had happened.

"Wow, awesome! You can even do that?"

Ivan stared at the empty desktop for two seconds, and his lips twitched involuntarily.

The so-called "rigorous scientific worldview" on Earth has been gently broken here with ink and ashes.

"But with so many mortals, these word combinations will inevitably be triggered unintentionally, and they will be corrected and burned?" Evan still had doubts.

Unfortunately, he hasn't had time to verify this yet; he still needs to review.

After confirming that what he had inherited in his dream was real, he opened his textbook and began to review the lessons he was to attend that day.

Dalton's atomic theory, Berzelius's electrochemical dualism, and the derivation of Avogadro's constant.

These were no longer difficult for him, especially after combining them with the chemical framework of the 21st century. When looking at textbooks from that era, he could even see at a glance where scientists had taken detours.

At 6:40, all the knowledge points were reviewed.

He closed the book, walked into the small washroom at the end of the corridor, and turned on the tap.

The icy water gushed out of the pipe with a clang, and he scooped up two handfuls and smeared it on his face.

I just finished wiping my face and looked up at the mirror.

Then he froze.

"Does the potion act directly on the body after digestion?"

He reached his hand up to his head and touched the outline of his skull, his expression somewhat strange.

"Why does it feel like... its head is pointy?"

The top of the skull was noticeably higher than yesterday, and the sides had also narrowed towards the center, changing the overall shape of the head from round to slightly oval.

It's not obvious, but you can feel it.

"It seems to have been digested quite quickly."

A voice carrying a light, cheerful tone sounded from behind him.

Ivan turned his head abruptly.

Hill appeared at the bathroom door at some point, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his lips.

But today's her is a completely different person from the Hill from last moonlit night.

Her originally silver hair had turned a warm gold.

Her once golden vertical pupils had turned into a normal blue, and the morning light from outside the bathroom window was reflected in her irises.

She wasn't wearing her leather armor today; she had changed into standard casual clothes.

The white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and a brown cardigan was worn over it. He paired it with beige and dark brown plaid trousers.

She wore lace-up ankle boots and a black newsboy cap, with golden hair hanging down from the brim, shimmering in the morning light.

"Then...then let me ask you, this mutation can be controlled, right?"

Ivan turned around hastily, not even bothering to wipe the water droplets from his face.

He was really in a hurry.

After all, modeling is really important!