Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

Gitov left in a hurry the next day. He was always full of passion, never backed down, and nothing could stop him.

Unlike the despair in Brøndal, the tragedy in Sintra did not cause him to lose faith; instead, it fueled his hatred and made him even more determined to move forward on the path of restoring his kingdom.

Even knowing that death lay at the end of the road ahead, he would only choose to quicken his pace.

Even the visible darkness of the future seemed unable to dim the light in his eyes.

I hope to walk hand in hand with him, yet I despair that we are complete strangers.

Effensor couldn't leave yet, partly because his left hand hadn't fully healed. He'd just had stitches put in, and now it looked like a rag doll's hand... covered in loose stitches, giving it a rather eerie and gruesome appearance, almost like Frankenstein's monster. And this time, the wound was healing very slowly, extremely slowly. Three months had passed, and it still wasn't time to remove the stitches.

On the other hand, he was still trying to raise money for his trip.

During this period, he accepted nineteen commissions, earning 670 orens, most of which he gave to Christy, as it was truly commendable that she had endured the criticism of others to take them in, and Effensor felt that this kindness deserved to be reciprocated. The other party may not have expected any reward, but Effensor would not be ungrateful.

Of the remaining money, a significant portion was spent on Gitov's medical treatment, and some on food and drink. In the end, only 91 Orens remained. Effinso simply gave all of this money to Gitov as travel expenses to Aden.

Effensor stayed behind to continue finding new commissions, first preparing the necessary items such as raincoats, tents, and sword oil for maintaining his two swords. Then he planned to return to Novigrad to spend some time with Sif and take care of the runestone and the matter of Redenni. After that, he would return to Kaer Morhen the following winter.

This is the first time he's spent the winter outside Kaer Morhen. He doesn't mind, but the old man waiting for him in the castle must be getting anxious and might come looking for him all over the world as soon as spring arrives.

As he stayed in this place for a long time, the number of monsters in the vicinity decreased rapidly. Monsters are not like leeks, which can be cut and quickly grow back from the ground. This means that Effensor can find fewer and fewer monster hunting commissions. Most of them are just jobs like water ghosts. In the end, after searching for a long time and getting himself covered in dirt and in a sorry state, he only got a mere dozen orens.

During his hunt forktail dragon, he obtained a dragon egg, and Effensor was overjoyed, thinking he could make a fortune. Unfortunately, no one in this small town recognized its value, and the rare and precious dragon egg went unsold. He was almost arrested as a fraudster.

Finally, Effensor, still resentful, cracked open the dragon egg and made bacon and eggs for Ciri.

That bumpkin is a bumpkin. That so-called baron can't even read many words. When he saw Effensor's dragon egg, he actually pulled out a children's storybook and compared it to the doodle-like dragon egg illustrations inside.

He was so angry he almost laughed...

Time flows like water through your fingers, passing in the blink of an eye.

Winter has passed and spring has arrived; another three months have gone by.

As the spring breeze swept through the valleys of Lower Suodeng, bringing the first spring rain, the earth awoke once more. A touch of green appeared in the world's otherwise monotonous colors; the branches of the trees stretched out, and tender buds grew vigorously, promising that soon a whole tree, a whole mountain, would be ablaze with spring blossoms.

With enough money saved up for the trip and all the equipment purchased, Effensor patiently waited for a while until his left hand injury was fully healed.

Although it has many white cracks and spots, like a piece of porcelain that failed to be fired and seems like it might break at any moment... it can still move freely and is completely unimpeded in its actions.

After packing his bags, Effensor expressed his sincere gratitude to Christy, hugged Ciri, and then bid farewell to the two of them before embarking on his journey to Novigrad on horseback.

He looked back and saw a small figure moving in the distance. It was Ciri playing happily in the fields in early spring. Effensor smiled, thinking—perhaps he had already changed history.

Maybe...maybe fate isn't so powerful?

He didn't know if it was just his imagination, but Effensor always had a dreamlike, unreal feeling about it.

Will things be resolved so easily?

Can he really break the bond of fate?

Perhaps none of those things he remembers will happen again, and everything will take a completely different turn...

Effensor tightened his collar; he could only force himself to believe that he was just overthinking things.

He looked up into the distance and saw only a vast expanse of sky and earth.

The world is so vast, yet he is so insignificant.

All he could do was move forward, keep moving forward.

So it was time to put these matters aside. Ahead of him lay the city that haunted his dreams, and the person he longed for day and night…

……

A few hours after Effensor left.

Ciri lay in her room, staring at the ceiling, bored.

The heavy snow outside has just stopped. Christy is cooking vegetable soup, while Ciri has finished all the farm work and is also tired from playing, so she has nothing to do now.

Maybe she needs a friend...

Suddenly, she heard someone speaking loudly outside the house.

"Christine! I'm home! Open the door!"

It was a male voice, deep and resonant.

"Yurga! You're finally back!"

Then came Christy's surprised voice.

Ciri immediately jumped out of bed and ran towards the door. She knew this was Christy's husband, and she wanted to meet her future adoptive father.

Outside the gate, Yulgar was pulling a carriage.

There was a person lying in the carriage, with white hair tied in a ponytail, a stubble beard on his chin, a sword on his back, and two golden vertical pupils in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Geralt," Yurga said apologetically, "actually, it's impossible for Christy and me to have children..."

"Cough, it's nothing."

Geralt, who was in the carriage, was badly injured. He was breathing heavily, like a broken bellows, and blood was still dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"The law of surprise doesn't necessarily require children to be the reward. It specifically refers to what you see first when you get home, or something you own but didn't know you had..."

Just then, the door opened.

Christy and Yulga hugged each other tightly, embracing each other with joy at their long-awaited reunion.

Geralt glanced at all of this and felt a little comforted.

If he can reunite a couple who deeply love each other, then his serious injuries for this cause are not without value.

Suddenly, a few wisps of white fur flashed behind Christy, and with a thumping sound of footsteps, Ciri ran over, stood behind Christy, and peeked out.

Those large, emerald-like eyes met Geralt's gaze.

Geralt opened his mouth, then stopped thinking.

……

Three months later, after a journey of stops and starts, Effensor arrived in Novigrad on the last day of April.

This is a special day.

On the last night of April, people follow an ancient tradition and hold a grand celebration called Mayfair. This is a custom followed throughout the North, much like Christmas.

Of course, this year's May Day is a bit more special than in previous years. In addition to the usual celebrations, people are also raising their glasses to the victory in the war and the arrival of peace.

The Nilfgaardians have been driven away, the north is safe, and the tragedy of Cintra will not spread again...

This is undoubtedly a joyous occasion worth celebrating.

As evening approached, Effensoro near the outskirts of Novigrad was already brightly lit and decorated. Vendors of all sizes spontaneously gathered in the square, forming a vast market.

People gathered on the outskirts of the market, officially commencing the opening ceremony of the celebration.

From afar, Effensor saw people dancing around a bonfire, singing in unison a song praising the goddess Melitelli.

Although the Church of Eternal Flame does not support other heretics, the goddess Melitelli is an exception...

"Our goddess!"

"She's an old woman! And also a young girl!"

"She's a woman too!"

"Bless us! Until the harvest is plentiful!"

Effensor only glanced at it once, but couldn't take his eyes off it.

It wasn't that the dance was particularly spectacular or the song particularly moving, but rather that outside the circle of people, a figure dressed in white was playing the harp.

Her long hair flowed freely, and she wore a white dress as white as snow. The evening breeze blew through her hair, causing her black hair to flutter and revealing her slightly pointed ears.

She seemed out of place in the festive atmosphere; while the bards and bands played cheerful tunes, she played a melancholy melody.

From a distance, paired with her white gauze dress, she looked like a sorrowful bride who had lost her lover.

Effensor didn't care about any of that; he even jumped off his horse excitedly without thinking and shouted loudly at the woman, "Sif!"

His voice was drowned out by the sea of ​​festivals, but Sif seemed to sense something and turned around to look.

Then, as if she were pleasantly surprised, she abandoned her harp, casually tossed it on the ground, and ran towards Effensor.

In the dim light, Effensor opened his arms to her with a broad smile.

But as Sif got closer to him, he gradually realized something was wrong.

Sif didn't seem to be running over with a cheerful gait; Effensor preferred to describe her as "aggressive and furious."

Her pretty face was tense, her brows were furrowed, and she seemed to be clenching her teeth, her facial muscles twitching abnormally.

Effensor's outstretched arms gradually fell down.

Sif stepped forward, glared at him for a second or two, and then, without hesitation, raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

"Snapped!"

"Ouch!" Effensor rubbed his face. "That hurts."

"You bastard!"

Sif grabbed Effensor by the collar and shook his neck angrily.

"I told you! Don't go to Sintra! There's war there! Do you know how worried I was!"

"You've been gone for over half a year! Not a single word from you!"

"Bodies are being brought back to Novigrad every day! Wounded people are being sent to the church hospital every day!"

"I wait at the city gate every day! I'm terrified you'll be inside!"

"But you never come back..."

But as she spoke, Sif's grip on Effin's collar gradually loosened.

Finally, she buried her face in Effensor's chest and sobbed softly while holding him.

I thought you weren't coming back.

Effensor put his arm around Sif and gently patted her back.

"I told you I'd be fine."

"No! They say there are 500,000 people fighting there! How terrifying! I thought you were dead..."

"...You know that's a rumor, and I won't go to the battlefield."

"Yeah?"

Sif glared at Effensor, then pointed to the horse grazing nearby and said, "Where did this Nilfgaardian warhorse come from? How did you manage to get a warhorse from the front lines?"

"Ah, this..."

"Hey!" Sif spotted the new scar on Effensor's shoulder again. Effensor had tried to hide it in his armor, but the sharp-eyed Sif still found it.

"What is this! It wasn't here the last time I saw it!"

"It's just a minor injury."

"Nonsense!" Sif glared at Effensor again, grabbed his hand, and walked towards the tent area in the distance.

"You need to tell me honestly what you've done! And the job of a witcher is dangerous enough! Why did you go and do something even more dangerous?"

Before Sif pulled her away, Effensor grabbed the horse's reins and tied it to a stake. Then, Sif dragged her along, stumbling through the crowd, until they finally crawled into the tent she had rented.

Outside the tent, the festive atmosphere grew increasingly intense. As the sun completely set, countless torches were lit, marking the climax of the May Day celebrations. Inside the tent, the atmosphere also became increasingly heated, eventually igniting like dry tinder meeting a raging fire.

From Effensor's eloquent talk about his trip to Sintra at the beginning, to their heartfelt exchanges, and finally Sif taking the initiative to touch him, Effensor was not to be outdone.

Each of their encounters begins in a different way and ends in the same way.

When dawn broke the next day, Effensor woke up yawning. The fatigue from the journey, after a night's rest, not only did not ease, but actually made him even more tired. Then, an excited Sif dragged him to the Church of Eternal Fire to complete the formalities and obtain the house that Brondann had given to Effensor.

The location is great, right in Gildorf, across from Sif's house.

After this trip, Effensor not only didn't earn a single penny, but also lost a considerable amount. His only gain was probably this house... which hardly qualifies as a house.

A dilapidated roof, completely emptied rooms, rotting floors and walls... This was indeed once a mansion in the Gildorf area, but now the only thing worth anything is probably the land.

"Perhaps we can tear it down and rebuild it." Effensor sighed and handed the land deed to Sif, which already had Sif's name on it.

He has no use for this thing. As a witcher, he has no fixed abode, and he won't live in this house permanently. Keeping the house would mean paying land taxes every year, which would be a waste of money. So it's better to give it to Sif, which will support her music career.

"Don't look so sad."

Sif was quite pleased, not because of the transfer of the property, but because Effensor had just told her that he would be staying in Novigrad until the end of October.

This was definitely the longest Sif had ever spent together with Effenso since they met.

Effensor shook his head. He looked back and saw that the house that originally belonged to Brundan had now been given a casino sign. This was probably related to the friend named Hawthorne that Brundan had mentioned before.

This guy is definitely not a good person; you can tell from his name.

"whoreson"...would a normal person use such a name?

As far as Effensor knew, this guy was a notorious bastard in Novigrad, a local gang leader, and had an equally scoundrel son who was apparently Hawthorne II more than a decade later.

Suddenly, Sif grabbed Effinso's arm and pulled him to the other side, wanting to take him to see a stage play. Although Effinso had no interest in it, under Sif's persistent pleading and the threat of "sleeping in separate beds," Effinso reluctantly went.

After discovering Effensor's weakness of "sleeping in separate beds," Sif became increasingly arrogant, using it to blackmail Effensor into accompanying her to the gardens of the Temple Island, to compose music in Pasifola, and to a bunch of upscale places Effensor never even considered going...

Sif doesn't usually go there, but things are different now.

Finally, she even started shopping in the city's outskirts market, which was crowded with May Day vendors in the Bishop's Square. Naturally, it wasn't Sif herself carrying the things, but Effensor, who had been dragged there.

It wasn't until dark that the two of them returned to Sif's house, exhausted.

After resting for a while, as Sif voluntarily extinguished the candle, Effensor, who was well prepared this time, immediately launched a fierce and merciless revenge, letting out a great sigh of relief.

Some people are very tired during the day, and some are very tired at night...

The following week felt like a vacation. Effensor felt as if he had returned to his childhood in a past life. Was he twelve or thirteen years old? At that time, his school was undergoing facility repairs, so all students were given a seven-day holiday.

Back then, Effensor felt exactly the same way he does now—carefree and unburdened, without any worries weighing on his mind or any difficulties within reach. He could also spend a few days of quiet and sweet life with the people he loved.

In the past few days, Effensor has even been considering retiring early and giving up being a Witcher.

With his own skills, it wasn't difficult for him to find work in Novigrad under an assumed name. Then he and Sif could build a life together, supporting and encouraging each other—far better than enduring the hardships of life outside day after day.

Even heroes can't resist the charms of a beautiful woman; the allure of romance has always been a tomb for heroes. But when you shed your heroic facade, lay down your burdens, and become an ordinary person, what's wrong with that allure?

Not to mention he wasn't a hero at all, but a witcher despised and scorned by the world...

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have sensed Effensor's thoughts, so it quietly appeared and deliberately stirred up his peaceful life.

early morning.

Effensor opened his eyes and was immediately jolted awake.

He noticed something on the ground that was flashing and seemed to be glowing through the leather... What was that thing?

"Damn it..."

Effensor scrambled to his feet, while Sif, who was still fast asleep beside him, remained undisturbed.

He rummaged through the pouch he'd tossed on the ground and finally found the runestone that should have lost all its magic. It was now flashing rhythmically, like a beating heart.

And Affinso's heart began to pound the moment he saw it.

It's a feeling of excitement and motivation, as if you've received invisible encouragement and inspiration, and in an instant you've found your direction in life.

A premonition arose in his mind; he knew he had to go to the forest where the golems had been hunted.

The premonition was so strong, yet it came without any reason, as if it were being deliberately urged on by something...

Something is calling out.