The Witcher: Grinding Experience Starting as a Wolf School Witcher

Upon seeing the system notification, Alwin breathed a sigh of relief.

Veris put the parchment scroll back on the bookshelf, glanced at Alwin's excited eyes, and knew without needing to read his mind that the other had memorized everything.

The sunlight on the mahogany table had moved to the corner of the table.

Veris glanced out the window; the sky was rapidly darkening.

"That concludes today's guidance. I have opened the door to magic for you; how far you go is up to you."

"But you must remember that this meditation method is very precious and cannot be taught to anyone without my permission."

Arwen snapped out of his daze, immediately bowed in the apprentice's salute, his voice filled with gratitude.

"I understand, thank you, Ms. Veris. I will definitely keep this promise. I wish you good health."

Veris smiled slightly. "You too."

……

Shortly after Alwin left, the sky quickly darkened.

Veris raised his hand and lit the magic chandelier above his head, the soft light illuminating the entire room.

Suddenly, she looked up at the wooden door. There were no footsteps in the corridor, but she knew that a guest had arrived.

"Knock knock..."

A knock came at the door.

Veris closed the book on the table and said loudly, "Please come in."

The door slowly opened, and a tall man walked in.

The man had an old face, short gray hair that fell down his back, and a wolf head badge hanging on his chest.

The wolf head badge began to sway the moment the man entered the room, but the sway was so faint that it was almost imperceptible, as if it were being held down by an invisible hand.

As a master witcher, Vesemir naturally noticed the unusual movement of the badge, and his amber cat-like eyes warily looked at the woman sitting behind the red table.

Veris leaned back in the wooden chair, finding a more comfortable position.

"Let me see who it is. It's Master Vesemir of the Wolf School. What brings you here?"

Vesemir sensed the teasing in the tone, but he wasn't annoyed. He simply frowned slightly and reached out to close the door behind him.

"I dare not call myself a master in your presence."

Veris gave a soft hum, and the hood on his head turned into starlight and disappeared, revealing his waterfall-like smooth black hair and dignified features.

A golden necklace quietly appeared on her chest, its red gemstones shimmering with an eerie luster.

With her dark, lacquer-like eyes, she was haughtily scrutinizing Vesemir, her every gesture exuding nobility and composure.

If any young wizard or sorceress saw this face, they would definitely scream.

Vesemir bowed, "Your Excellency..."

"Ms. Veris, just call me Veris here. As for those honorary titles, there's no need to mention them anymore."

Vesemir took a breath; he wasn't used to such formalities either. "It's an honor to meet you, Ms. Veris."

Veris nodded in response, "Me too, a Witcher."

"I wonder why you summoned me here? Are you afraid I'll steal your little Witcher away?"

"You can rest assured about that. I don't have your custom of picking up children everywhere."

Vesemir was unfazed by Veris's aggressive attitude, and could even be said to be used to it, he continued.

"No, I came here for only one question: why would a warlock who has always hated witchers come to Kael'thas—the witcher's fortress—and stay for two months?"

Veris sat up slightly, his expression serious.

"The Witcher's Fortress? You must have forgotten that Kael'thas is an ancient word meaning 'ancient sea fortress'? In ancient times, this place was a vast sea, and the elves built it here."

Vesemir stared at her; as the current patriarch of Kaer Morhen, he certainly knew these things.

Veris then changed the subject, "You're right, warlocks despise demon hunters."

"Me too. I've always thought you were failed mutation experiments, mutated killers only good for slaughtering monsters."

"Your cruelty once made me nauseous. Look at that road leading here, how many corpses are buried there."

"Of these, how many are enemies, and how many are your apprentices?"

"And you even gave it a grand name, 'Killer's Road'."

Vesemir's cat-like eyes were downcast.

Veris stood up. "However, you're not entirely outdated; at least you didn't turn me away."

Vesemir muttered to himself.

Will they shut you out?

One teleport and I'm directly in Kaer Morhen's hall, how can I refuse?

Vesemir knew that some of his apprentices called him a living fossil of the Wolf School.

But it can't compare to the one in front of me at all.

His age is quite ancient, making him one of the closest to those legendary magicians.

Even Arzhul, the creator of the Witcher, had to show some respect to this person.

Who would dare to refuse such an existence, and who could refuse it?

Seeing Vesemir's alarmed expression, Veris shook his head and smiled.

"Vesemir, I have no interest in your mysterious mushrooms or mutation recipes."

"Besides, you should thank me. I remember the success rate of the Grass Trial is only 30% or 40%."

"And of the seven apprentices this time, six survived with my help, didn't they?"

Vesemir said in a low voice, "Yes, thank you for your help from so far away."

Veris raised his hand. "Stop being sarcastic."

"Since you want to know why I'm here, I can tell you."

"Do you know about Islini's prophecy?"

"Islini," Vesemir pondered, "the legendary elven prophet? The prophecy of the White Frost?"

Veris spoke in a clear voice, each character having a unique melody that was moving and captivating, like reciting a poem.

"The age of swords and axes, of contempt, is coming. When leaves fall, buds wither, fruits rot, grains turn bitter, and valley waters turn to ice."

"White frost is coming, followed by white light, and the world will be swallowed up by the raging wind and snow."

Upon hearing this, Vesemir felt a surge of annoyance.

For centuries, the elf prophets and the priests of the north have shouted countless slogans of world destruction, and the king has used this as an excuse to wipe out countless races.

The Wolf School of Witchers' motto is to remain neutral, and they have always kept their distance from such world-ending rhetoric.

A witcher only trusts the sword in his hand.

If it weren't for the presence of this legendary sorceress, he would definitely have picked his ear with his hand.

Veris saw the disbelief in Vesemir's eyes and simply said, "Islini's prophecy is correct. I saw it with my own eyes, right here at Aretusa Academy, in the portrait of Islini in the Hall of Glory."

"That night, I was on my routine patrol of the Corridor of Glory when I fell into a dream. Just as Islini had said, frost swept through the world, burying all life."

"Until one person appeared, I could not see that person's face, I only knew that that person was detached from the world, carrying a silver sword, cutting through the frost, and bringing life back to the world."

Vesemir suddenly looked up, a look of astonishment flashing across his eyes.

"A wanderer of the world, carrying a silver sword? You mean a Witcher?"

Veris walked to the window and looked at the stars that were gradually appearing in the sky.

"I have no idea……"