Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

The rest of the journey went smoothly. There were no robbers or bandits, no water ghosts or ghouls lurking in the bushes. Effensor spent two days and arrived at a ferry crossing on the south bank of the Pontal River in the morning.

This place is very bustling. There are more than a dozen boats moored near the ferry crossing, and a large passenger boat constantly shuttles back and forth between the two banks. In addition, there is a small market, and a small town has been built on the west side of the ferry crossing.

The flow of people here is quite large, with merchants coming and going, farmers coming to the market, local artisans and other craftsmen, all kinds of people gathering here. The races here are not only humans, there are also elves, dwarves, halflings... and even a mage holding a rope with a rock troll tied to the end of the rope.

The North wasn't as rife with discrimination against non-human races as it would later become, at least not compared to the North in Effinso's memory, roughly ten years later. While the attitude towards non-human races wasn't exactly friendly, genocide was unlikely to occur in Novigrad and Temeria. Compared to King Foltest and the wild boar Henset, they were practically paragons of virtue.

"I just don't know what this Eternal Flame is all about?"

Effensor muttered to himself. He was always cautious whenever he came to Novigrad. Those religious fanatics had left a deep impression on him in the game.

He led his horse through the bustling crowd, or rather, the crowd deliberately avoided him, automatically making way for him.

"By Meritelli, what is this taste?"

"vomit……"

"Damn witcher... Look! There's a corpse on his horse!"

"Oh, he stinks even worse than that troll the mage was leading!"

Effensor remained unfazed, completely unconcerned about the whispers and pointing fingers of those around him.

Including the time spent completing his commission, he stayed in Velen for a total of six days, during which he didn't bathe once, only taking a short dip in the river at most. But wearing a full set of leather armor, coupled with the continuous rain along the way, the stench that had accumulated couldn't be washed away. Not to mention, there was a corpse on his horse, which, although not yet decomposed after two days, had begun to stink.

He quickly walked into the town's streets and found a two-story tavern, probably the largest in the area, which also offered accommodation.

After leading the horse into the stable, Effensor eagerly booked a room, ordered a large basin of hot water, and pre-ordered a huge amount of food to eat after his bath. This cost him six orens.

Effensor walked into the guest room on the second floor and looked at the bathtub filled with hot water in front of him. A longing welled up in his heart, calling out to him: Soak in! Soak in!

However, Effensor did not begin to undress because he noticed the woman who had greeted him was still hesitating at the door.

"What's wrong?"

He asked.

"Sir. That one on your horse, that one..."

Effensor slapped his forehead, realizing he had almost forgotten about that guy.

Perhaps we should buy a cloth to cover him.

"Don't worry, I'll be there soon."

"Ah? Oh, oh, okay." The woman smiled awkwardly. "I actually wanted to say that my uncle makes coffins, maybe that would be helpful..."

"No need. I'm going to Novigrad, which is only half a day's journey from here. I'll bury him there."

"Okay, your food is being prepared and will be ready in a little while."

After saying that, the woman gently closed the door, and then Effensor clearly heard her mutter to herself as she hurriedly ran downstairs.

"Oh no, Mary, you've chased the guests away... Oh no, oh no!"

Effensor blinked; it seemed the waitress had misunderstood something. He wouldn't chase after her to explain, after all, she was already half-undressed.

He was naked, holding onto the edge of the bathtub with both hands, and then he plopped down inside.

"what……"

The feeling was so comfortable that all the fatigue from the journey seemed to disappear in that moment, causing him to let out a groan.

However, the bathtub was a bit small, so he could only bend his legs. Also, the bottom of the tub was a bit rough on his buttocks, but these were not serious problems.

Picking up a simple bar of soap, Aifenso carefully scrubbed her body, rubbing every inch of it.

The scars on his body were faintly visible through the light steam from the hot water, swaying with his movements.

Although he only served as a Witcher for fifteen years, Effensor's scars were already covering his entire body.

He trained in Kaer Morhen for over a decade, but when he finally began to venture out on his own, he discovered his lack of practical experience.

Things don't always go as he imagines. The monsters don't just stand there dumbfounded; they hide and ambush, and you can easily get hurt if you're not careful.

He realized this problem during the first year when Vesemir took him on his travels. But it was no use; practical experience is gained through battle. No matter how much Vesemir said, it could only serve as a reference. So, in battle after battle, Effinso slowly learned to predict the monsters' attacks and intentions, how to dodge perfectly, and how to counterattack accurately—things that cannot be learned in training.

However, the price is some scars.

Besides that, he underestimated the wickedness of human nature to some extent.

Sometimes, when he thinks back on it, he laughs at how stupid he was.

For example, the two scars that Affinso considered a great disgrace.

In an attempt to steal thirty crowns, two farmers ambushed him with pitchforks, leaving three hole-like scars on his shoulder.

A drunken thug, who disliked him, took advantage of his sleep at night to attack him with a machete. The attack caught Effensor off guard, leaving a scar on his leg.

After being tricked twice, Effensor no longer dared to underestimate these honest and seemingly weak farmers. He remained vigilant every time he carried out a commission, especially when it came to handing over the money.

He vowed there would be no third time.

……

After taking a bath, Effensor washed her dirty clothes and armor again, then wrung them out thoroughly and hung them in the room to dry. She was lucky today; the sun was blazing and the weather was unusually hot, so she estimated the clothes would be mostly dry by the afternoon.

Wearing the only set of clean clothes, Effensor went downstairs looking refreshed. The tavern wasn't crowded in the morning; only a few idlers were gathered together, drinking and playing cards.

They were playing Gwent, and that guy with the shrewd hairstyle even had a gold card.

Effensor keenly observed this and felt a little itchy to grab some food, but he decided to fill his stomach first. After eating dark bread, pickles, and dried fruit the whole way, he was finally able to have a proper meal.

He walked up to the bar, where the bartender, also a woman, was struggling to carry a huge wooden tray. She swayed as she walked towards Effensor and then placed the tray steadily in front of him.

There were three grilled fish on the plate, all sea fish imported from Novigrad, seasoned with salt, pepper, and Serricanian spices, and covered with a layer of lemon sauce, with melted butter underneath.

There was also a bowl of meat soup with carrots, beef, and potatoes. It was a bit salty, but the taste was just right when you dipped bread in it.

The remaining items were more varied: there was a bread sandwich with cheese and sausage that looked like a hot dog; there was slightly charred, sizzling lamb, also sprinkled with spices; and then there was a seafood pasta dish with clams and a savory sauce.

There were five loaves of bread, all white bread, along with a small bowl of butter and a small jar of jam to spread on the bread.

In this backward, magical medieval world, it's truly a rare treat to be able to enjoy such a delicious meal.

Of the six Orens that Effensor spent, five were spent on this.

The bartender, panting from exhaustion, poured Effensor two more glasses of Nilfgaard lemon liqueur, a unique fruit wine that Effensor adored.

"Everything's served, Witcher, enjoy."

The bartender wiped his sweat with the rag hanging around his neck, and when he looked at Affinso, he found that he had already eaten half of the seafood noodles.

"Is it that delicious?" she asked with a smile. Seeing her skills recognized was a kind of achievement.

"Of course. Especially after eating pickles and dark bread for a week straight, it tastes even better."

Effensor ate heartily, yet spoke clearly. In a short while, he had finished the entire plate of noodles, then picked up a knife, cut a piece of bread, stuffed it with roasted lamb that had been pulled from the bone, and spread a layer of butter on top.

With one bite, the rich and savory flavor spread throughout the mouth. The lamb was roasted to perfection, without any gamey taste, and was incredibly tender, making Aifenso close her eyes involuntarily.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the tavern owner resting her chin on her hand, looking him over with great interest.

"It's strange. I've met many witchers in my life. Some are fierce, some are as cold as a stone, but none of them are like you."

"The reason?" Effensor raised an eyebrow.

"All the Witchers, I mean all the Witchers I've ever met," the bartender said, pouring herself a beer and taking a sip. "They all eat so casually, as if they have all sorts of things on their minds. Only you, you put all your attention into eating."

"Oh, interesting." Effensor nodded, indeed.

Just like the annual winter feast in Kaer Morhen, no matter how many delicacies were served, the witchers gathered around drinking would always focus their attention on each other. For them, the purpose of the feast was not to eat, but to revel with their companions. Aside from Effortso, the roasted pork from the Blue Mountain boar was so delicious that he always ate it all up – it was a Kaer Morhen specialty.

"Speaking of which, as a witcher, do you accept commissions or not?"

"That depends on the details of your request and the location," Effensor said, taking a bite of fish.

"I need to go to Novigrad. If your request is near this ferry crossing, then I'm afraid I won't have time."

"Oh! That's quite a coincidence. My husband lives in the city's outskirts; actually, he's the one who's run into trouble."

"Okay, then tell me more about it." Effensor nodded, picked up the bowl, and took a big gulp of soup.

"Oh, it's nothing really. Look..." The female bartender tossed her long hair, revealing a pointed ear that had been deliberately covered.

"You're an elf? I think I know what's going on."

"Hmm, it's just a bunch of Novigrad thugs harassing us. My husband is a tailor, and he's being blackmailed. They're saying they'll burn our house down if we don't hand over three-tenths of our weekly earnings."

"In fact, they've already done it once," the female elf said with a hint of melancholy, a trace of fear in her eyes.

"If our house hadn't been so close to the river, it probably would have burned down. After that, I moved here and became a bartender. But my husband didn't want to leave; he didn't want to give up our tailor shop."

"If no one saves him, he will surely die!"

"Master Witcher, you wouldn't want to see kind, innocent elves like us being bullied, would you? So, can you help us?"

As if by accident, the female elf unbuttoned her blouse, and her heavy, snow-white breasts were squeezed and deformed as she bent forward and bumped into the table.

She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, and tears welled up in her deliberately wide eyes.

Looking at her pitiful expression, an ordinary person would probably be mesmerized and agree wholeheartedly.

Unfortunately, Effensor was engrossed in eating, and the elven bartender's flirtatious glances were wasted on the blind man.

"Unfortunately, we in this line of work are always criticized for being cold-blooded, so we have no choice but to live up to this stereotype. I won't do any work until the pay is agreed upon."

Effensor casually dipped the bread into the broth, soaking it completely before stuffing it all into his mouth in one gulp.

"Besides, are you sure it was thugs harassing you?" Effensor seemed completely unaffected by the beauty, and bent forward as well, presenting an interested smile to the female elf.

"Why do I feel like it's a gang coming to collect protection money? But you're unwilling to pay? Or unable to pay?"

"I won't take on jobs that don't involve hunting monsters."

After saying that, Effensor reverted to his expressionless face and continued to eat and drink heartily.

The female elf sighed, and naturally closed her open robe, even fastening a button on it.

"Okay, I was just giving it a try anyway. The real problem is that something we don't know has stolen our goods."

"It's still about Alai, oh, that is, my husband." The female elf gracefully stroked her long hair, looking much more dignified, completely different from her previous appearance.

"He bought a chest of fine fabric from Kowell, which cost a lot of money! But it was robbed on its way here, in the forest south of Novigrad. Now our cash flow is cut off, and we not only don't have money to buy new fabric, but we also have to put on hold an order that was half-finished."

"Those gangsters have caught wind of it too. They keep pushing that damned loan sharking, 700% annual interest! Damn it, what kind of loan is that!" The elf slammed her fist on the table in anger. "Even Vivaldi's dwarves weren't this greedy!"

"Calm down, calm down," Effensor reassured her, then asked, "Didn't you try looking for it?"

"We tried. We hired the city guards, paid them some money, and they sent seven men. Those seven never came back. No one else who took that route has returned either. Now it's almost time to pay our monthly protection money, but we desperately need the money. If we give it to the gang, we'll be bankrupt!"

The female elf looked into Effensor's eyes again, this time her tone was sincere and her expression genuine.

"Instead of giving the money to the gang, I'd rather hire a witcher to retrieve that shipment."

"We would be truly grateful if you could help us."

"Very good." Effensor finally finished eating, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and looked up at the elf: "So how much are you willing to pay?"

"100 crowns, that's all we have. We have no extra money left. We've already spent a lot of money to keep the business running. And now our shop has burned down, so we don't even have any source of funding."

"Even I had to leave home and work in such a far place, just because the owner of this tavern pays me more."

"Master Witcher, I..."

"150," Effensor suddenly said.

Upon hearing this, the female elf stood up abruptly, staring at Effinso in disbelief.

"Hey, why are you getting so worked up? Your story is indeed interesting, but what does that have to do with me?" Effensor said, shrugging. "You pay me, I do the work. I don't care about your entanglements with the mob, and I can't be bothered to verify the truth of your story. I'm here for the money."

"So, 150 crowns, I know you can definitely come up with that."

"130 crowns! At most, only 130!"

"150".

"130! You really want us to go bankrupt right now? You won't get a single penny that way!"

"Okay, okay, looks like I guessed wrong." Effensor stood up. "Then it'll be 130."

"Hmph!" The female elf glared at Effensor, clearly still resentful about the extra thirty crowns.

"My name is Dana. For more details, ask my husband. He lives next to the notice board in the city's outskirts. That house that was half burned down is ours."

After saying that, she tidied up the mess left by Effensor after she finished eating, and as she left, she twisted a rag into a strip and whipped Effensor.

"Hey, look! That white-haired kid and that woman are dating!"

The people playing cards nearby laughed heartily, holding large wine glasses and casting mocking glances at Effensor.

Effensor ignored him and walked straight toward the bald man who was laughing the loudest.

"Want to play a few rounds of cards?"

"You? White hair, you still play cards? What cards do you know? You should learn how to play first! Hahaha!" The bald man laughed mockingly, followed by another round of laughter echoing in the tavern.

Effensor calmly took out a stack of cards, the outermost card with a special gold border, which immediately attracted the attention of everyone nearby.

"What kind of card is this?" The bald man stared intently at the mysterious gold card.

"Want to know?" Effensor chuckled. "You'll find out after a couple of games."

Laugh? You won't be laughing for long.

He gave a cold, inward smile.