Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

When Effensor returned to the outskirts of Novigrad, he asked someone at random, and sure enough, he found out that although he had only been in the forest for a few tens of minutes, a whole day had passed in the outside world.

It’s over.

This was Affinso's first thought.

His promise to Sif before he left was still vivid in Effens' mind. Effens could imagine Sif happily preparing dinner, then waiting for him, waiting for him, but when midnight came and she still hadn't seen him, Sif's sadness, Sif's disappointment, Sif's worry...

And Sif's anger when she saw Effensor again.

Effensor even started considering whether to stab himself a few times and play the victim.

He's hesitant to go back to Sif's house now, but he has no choice. He can't just abandon everything and run away.

With trepidation, Effensor mounted his horse and slowly rode towards Gildorf.

He was not even half as fast as he had come.

On the way, he also bought some snacks that Sif liked—dried camel meat from Sericania.

Hopefully this will calm Sif's anger...

Despite her unease and reluctance, Effensor eventually arrived at Sif's door.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and knocked three times on the wooden door.

"Thump, thump, thump."

"Who's there?"

Sif's voice came from inside the room.

"...It's me."

As soon as Effensor finished speaking, a series of hurried footsteps sounded, and the back door was pulled open with a loud "whoosh".

Sif stood expressionless in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Effensor.

Just as Effensor had predicted, her first words were, "So you finally decided to come back?"

"I thought you had already left. If you had come any later, I would have thrown all your junk out on the street."

"I... had a bit of an accident."

"Oh, of course, of course," Sif said sarcastically. "There are always surprises, aren't there? Tell me what the surprise was this time, maybe it's an excuse I've never heard before."

"Uh..." Effensor looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, and then blurted out a whole string of words.

"If I told you that I chatted with an ancient monster who had lived for hundreds of years in the forest outside the city, and he gave me a quest and a peerless sword, and that in just a few tens of minutes, a whole day had passed in the world outside the forest, would you believe me?"

Sif didn't answer, but stood with her hands on her hips, staring directly into Effensor's eyes, and Effensor met her gaze without flinching.

After staring at each other for more than ten seconds, Sif blinked first.

"snort!"

She still seemed angry, but she made way for him.

"Come in."

Sif said, turning her head to the side as she spoke, deliberately avoiding looking at Effensor.

Effensor breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed he had passed the test.

He quickly went inside, and Sif closed the door behind him.

As she turned around, she saw Effensor hand her a small cloth bag, which emitted a scent that Sif was very familiar with.

"A little gift for you."

Effensor said with a smile, but Sif scoffed dismissively.

"I'm still angry!"

Although Sif said that, her hands betrayed her, and she snatched the small bag away.

Aifen's smile deepened; he knew that Sif had actually forgiven him.

As expected, when Effensor wrapped his arms around Sif's waist from behind, she only hummed again and then tacitly approved of Effensor's further actions.

……

Time flies, especially when people are having a wonderful time.

Autumn arrived almost in the blink of an eye.

Summer was so peaceful that Effensor hardly ever left the house, repeating the same three things every day: sleeping, eating, and practicing swordsmanship, while passing the time in Sif's company.

In reality, this kind of life has no practical meaning. During this period, Effensor did not improve himself or have any unique experiences; everything was stagnant.

But he just felt it was very meaningful.

On a summer afternoon, I lay in the shade of a tree with Sif, watching the distant waves roll and shimmer, listening to the cries of seagulls and the rustling of the sea breeze through the treetops.

At that moment, Effensor truly felt satisfied.

Let the world stop at this moment, let the story end at this moment, that would be fine too.

However, Effensor eventually got out of bed.

He can't stop. He has his own pursuits, people he wants to meet, and scenery he longs to see. He can't settle down.

The Witcher's armor was put on him by Sif himself.

The repaired silver sword, coated with sword oil, was carried on his back.

The old steel sword was left to Sif as a memento; the new steel sword, the ancient hero's sword, was picked up once again after countless years.

With the potions and alchemical bombs hanging on his waist, and all sorts of outdoor supplies, food, and water on his horse's back, Effensor once again took the reins.

It was still that Nilfgaardian warhorse, and this time Effensor named him "Wolke," or Walker, which means cloud. The name came from a white ring around the horse's neck, like a necklace or an irregular band of clouds in the sky.

As a warhorse, Effensor believed he would stay with him longer than his previous horses.

"Why are you leaving so early?" Sif sighed, her gaze towards Effensor filled with longing. "You said you would stay until the end of October."

"yes."

Effensor nodded and said, "But it's already October 7th, so even if we stay a little longer, it won't be for much longer."

Sif pouted and said, "Then why not stay a little longer?"

"Sigh, but to be honest, I miss my brothers. I haven't seen them for almost a year."

"...I understand."

Sif gradually calmed down, staring intently at Effensor, her eyes sparkling as if conveying an indescribable emotion.

"..."

Effensor was also looking at her.

Without needing to say more, they both understood each other's thoughts.

Effensor suddenly put down the reins and hugged Sif, holding her tightly against her back.

Sif finally gave Effensor a kiss and then let go of her.

Effensor reached out and tugged at the reins, causing the horse, which had been grazing with its head down, to raise its head. Then, the two of them slowly walked toward the street in the distance.

Sif watched from afar, gazing intently at Effensor's retreating figure.

Until the person with snow-white hair disappeared into the crowd.

Just like countless times before, they parted in silence, then looked forward to their next reunion.

Perhaps it was in the spring rain that a wet person knocked on the door; perhaps it was in the height of summer that they met on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month.

Perhaps it was in late autumn, in the coniferous forest outside the city, that they met by chance; or perhaps it was in the dead of winter, that they embraced each other amidst heavy snowfall.

For her, love is waiting year after year...

Waiting for that one glance back.

……

After embarking on his long journey home, Affinso returned to his old profession.

His luck wasn't exceptionally good; the demon-hunting jobs he took along the way were either water ghosts or evil spirits, and occasionally ghouls or Andraegers.

This barely earns any money; eliminating a dozen or so water monsters that wreak havoc on the fields will only earn you a reward of fifty crowns, sometimes even less.

The process of commissioning exorcisms is remarkably similar. The client first greets him with a smile, then, after the task is completed, invariably tries to play the victim and pay less or nothing at all. When Effensor remains unmoved, they turn hostile and start cursing.

"Have pity on me, Master Witcher!"

A farmer covered his face and wept in front of Effensor, seemingly crying uncontrollably, almost kneeling down before him.

However, Effensor saw it clearly: the guy was crying loudly, but he didn't shed a single tear.

"No, fifteen crowns, one crown for a water ghost, we've agreed on that."

Effensor shook his head.

"Really not going to work?" The farmer looked up slightly, revealing one eye as he spoke to Effensor.

"no."

Affinso shook his head again, crossed his arms, and remained unmoved by the farmer's feigned pitifulness.

"All right……"

The farmer reluctantly took out his purse, counted out fifteen crowns, and spread them out in his palm. Effensor reached out and took them all, tossing them one by one into his own pouch.

The clinking of coins as they fell sounded like drumbeats, drawing the farmer's attention to Effensor's waist.

Affenzo glanced at him and knew without a doubt what this guy was up to.

A crowd gradually gathered around them, pointing and whispering about Affenzo and the farmers. Although these people knew nothing of the facts, it did not stop them from indulging in some wicked fantasies.

"The Witcher stole old Finn's savings!"

"He definitely overcharged me! That greedy devil!"

"He has so much money..."

Among them, the one with scabies was the loudest.

It seemed that the gathering of the crowd gave the farmer a bit of courage, causing him to stand up nervously. He then swallowed hard, glanced at Effensor's fanny pack, and was about to say something.

However, before he could even speak, he noticed the pair of vertical pupils that had been staring at him.

Effensor stared at him coldly, intentionally or unintentionally shaking the exposed hilt of his sword at his waist, and flicking the blood of the water ghost that hadn't been wiped off his hands.

The farmer suddenly realized what was happening.

He realized that the witcher was too close to him, and if he really did something, he would be the first to lose his head.

If he were to actually act on the desires in his mind, he would be the first victim of those desires.

After slightly intimidating the restless farmers, Effensor walked straight towards his horse.

The crowd parted to make way for him, instinctively falling silent as Effensor approached, even avoiding eye contact. But once he was gone, they resumed their malicious gossip.

Effensor patted Walker, who snorted and remained as docile and obedient as ever. Once Effensor mounted Walker, it began to walk along the muddy country path.

Behind Effensor, the murmurs, or rather the shouts of abuse, continued unabated.

When monsters reappear in the village, and when another witcher arrives, they will likely fall silent again. But when the witcher finishes his work, they will begin again.

This cycle continued until there were no more monsters or witchers on the continent.

After leaving the village, Effensoro hadn't gone far when the scenery gradually opened up before them.

The sparse woods and scattered patches of grass gradually disappeared behind him.

What came into view was a rolling hilly area, like waves at sea. One low hill after another connected together, covered with green grass, looking just like a grassland.

When the wind blows, the pale yellow grass begins to sway, and the prairie, like waves, begins to surge, as if it were alive, almost indistinguishable from the real sea.

As the saying goes, "When the wind blows the grass low, you can see cattle and sheep." As the grass ripples, herdsmen driving their livestock in the distance also come into view.

For these herders, this grassland is their farmland. This boundless sea of ​​yellow grass is like rolling waves of wheat, waiting for them to drive their livestock to harvest it.

Effensor looked away and looked up.

To be precise, it is a magnificent mountain range in the distance.

All the beautiful scenery in the world probably cannot compare to it in the slightest.

Stretching for thousands of miles and soaring into the clouds, even thousands of green pines cannot cover the steep mountains, and the gray-white boulders still stand majestically.

Before it lies a sky shrouded in mist; beneath its feet lie countless creatures on the earth.

It is like a sleeping giant, lying on its side on the earth. Or like a high wall, blocking people at the foot of the mountain.

Its existence is truly incredible, as if the earth had been lifted out of thin air, rising from an altitude of several hundred meters to more than two thousand meters in an instant.

Its name is the Blue Mountains.

Its ruggedness and grandeur are perhaps only comparable to the Flying Dragon Mountains further north.

Effensor watched quietly for a while, then tugged at Walker's horse's head; it was so bored that it had started eating wild vegetables on the ground.

Walker was unhappy that his meal was interrupted, but he continued to move forward under his owner's control.

It carried Effensor towards the Blue Mountains, along rugged mountain roads, winding its way between peaks and narrowly missing cliffs.

When they reached the later sections of the trail, Effensor dismounted and personally led Walker forward. This path was a secret trail known to no outsiders, rarely traversed, so it was overgrown with weeds and difficult to spot. Only witchers like Effensor, who frequently traveled this path, could recognize it at a glance.

Autumn is in full swing, and the leaves of the trees along the roadside are falling one after another. With the blowing of the mountain wind, a large number of leaves fall from time to time, just like rain.

Withered yellow leaves fell on Effensor's shoulders, on Walker, and on the road already covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves.

The rustling of the treetops and the whistling of the wind through the mountains echoed incessantly in Effensor's ears.

He has been walking all day since morning, and now it is dusk.

As the sun gradually sets, its brilliant sunlight transforms into a melancholy afterglow, bathing everything in a crimson glow.

The setting sun cast its last rays on the sparse treetops, creating a series of shadows that Effensor could walk through.

As Effensor continued forward, his mood gradually eased.

As he reached the next corner, Effensor's view suddenly opened up, and he completely relaxed.

Halfway up the mountain, he had just passed the treetops and could see the magnificent building in the distance...

Nestled among the mountains, there stands an ancient and dilapidated castle that has stood for centuries.

It is situated in a valley, nestled against a mountain, and built against the mountainside. Even with its broken towers and collapsed walls, these things only serve to evoke images of its former glory.

"Ancient Sea Fortress," Effensor muttered to himself.

"Kyr Moham".

Having lived two lives, the memories of the previous life are blurred. The only impression of the family in the previous life is the steaming hot meals and the blurry but smiling faces of the parents.

And all his memories of home in this lifetime are in this cold castle.

At that moment, seeing the wisps of smoke rising from Kaer Morhen Castle in the distance, Effensor's faded memories were suddenly awakened. Those memories, like still photographs, came to life, vividly appearing before his eyes.

The road ahead was now flat and clear, and Effensor mounted Walker again, trotting towards Kaer Morhen.

As the sun slowly sank into the earth, its radiance faded, and the shadows of the mountains stretched and advanced forward.

These shadows clung to Effensor's shadow, relentlessly pursuing it, yet always falling just short.

In the chase, the two headed together toward the distant Kaer Mohen.