The two abilities offered different paths. The first focused on mastering the existing Signs, leading to a more immediate boost in power. The second, while not immediately impactful, would open doors to other worlds and deepen his understanding of magic, paving the way for future growth.
After careful consideration, Wayne decided to invest his ability points into "Transformation of Magic Power." In that instant, he felt a shift within himself—a change in his spirit, or perhaps his soul. His senses sharpened, his perception of Chaos energy intensified. He could even detect traces of diverse energies from other worlds interwoven within the Chaos.
The witcher world was indeed a sieve, as he'd suspected. Though faint and scattered, Wayne sensed at least hundreds of different energies from other realms. Intrigued, he took a sip of the mana potion from Azeroth, then closed his eyes to focus on the experience.
After a few minutes, Wayne opened his eyes, relieved. While he still didn't fully grasp the arcane magic of Azeroth, activating "Transformation of Magic Power" had increased his absorption of the mana potion from 40-50% to 50-60%. Perhaps, with a deeper understanding of Azeroth's energies, he could one day wield the powers of Light, Shadow, and Arcane like the natives.
His remaining ability point, after the upgrade, would be saved for the upcoming genetic mutation skill enhancement. The scarcity of ability points was a constant concern for Wayne. Currently, there were only three ways to obtain them: leveling up, completing rare special tasks, or absorbing power from magic nodes in the witcher world, which risked creating spatial rifts.
The nearest node to Wayne was located in the mountains behind Kaer Morhen, the same place where he'd activated his Wolf School medallion. However, its significance to the fortress made it untouchable.
Studying the map of magic nodes he'd acquired from Aretuza, Wayne selected one not too far away. Unfortunately, it was also located in Kaedwen, Ban Ard. A Kaedwenian city known for its mining and magical academy
However, Wayne had no fondness for Kaedwen. He'd spent little time there, mostly passing through. Perhaps due to its location in the frigid north, with its vast expanse and sparse population, or its scarce resources, most Kaedwenis were rough and xenophobic, bordering on hateful towards non-humans. Their king was even worse: a lecherous, power-hungry tyrant who would eventually betray the Northern Kingdoms in their war against Nilfgaard.
In early January 1253, Wayne used the excuse of a personal errand to depart Kaer Morhen, piloting a magic flying carpet towards Ban Ard. Winter still gripped the land, spring a distant promise, and nighttime temperatures dipped below freezing.
Bundled in his enchanted shirt, Wayne soared through the night sky. The witcher's constitution was hardy, but even he would succumb to the biting cold without protection. The flying carpet, while maneuverable, had its limits. Flying too high hindered control and drained magical energy. Prioritizing his safety, Wayne dared not push the carpet's boundaries. A fall from a thousand meters would be perilous, even for him.
Kaer Morhen was roughly three hundred kilometers from Ban Ard. The evening departure was necessary due to the cold temperatures, which forced him to fly at a slower pace.
After four or five hours of flight, Wayne passed over a small mountain range and a quaint town. In the distance, he noticed flickering flames and signs of unrest in the town. Curiosity piqued, he altered his course, descending to get a closer look.
What he witnessed was a scene of utter devastation. The town, unnamed and unremarkable, housed only a few hundred residents and lacked even a protective wall. Yet, even here, the disparity between rich and poor was evident, with thatched huts and wooden houses on the outskirts contrasting sharply with the stone buildings at the center.
Tonight, however, many of those humble dwellings were ablaze, corpses strewn around them. Men, women, elderly, and children alike lay dead. The men clutched crude weapons like sticks and pitchforks, suggesting a futile resistance. The women, many of them naked, bore expressions of agony, indicating they had suffered unspeakable horrors before their deaths.
Most disturbingly, the vast majority of the victims were elves, dwarves, and halflings—non-humans, in the parlance of the North. A massacre was unfolding before Wayne's eyes.
Witnessing the gruesome scene, Wayne's anger surged. He knew Kaedwen had a reputation for cruelty towards non-humans, and many refugees had escaped their brutality, but this was the first time he'd witnessed such carnage firsthand.
After all, his profession and heritage aligned him with the plight of non-humans. Furthermore, Wayne held little affection for the human rabble-rousers of the witcher world. Witnessing such a tragedy, even as a witcher, he felt compelled to act.
With this resolve, Wayne retrieved the dragonscale armor forged by Master O Henry from his spatial bracelet, donning it and concealing it beneath a black cloak. For weaponry, considering the potential battle ahead and the need for discretion, he opted for a simple enchanted one-handed sword from Azeroth—an ordinary weapon, its only advantage being slightly enhanced sharpness and durability.
Prepared and armed, Wayne took a deep breath. As he was about to descend upon the heart of the chaos, a woman's melodic voice reached his ears.
"Wayne, is that you?" she called out. "Could you join me? I'm in the forest, three hundred meters to your left."
Wayne was startled. He'd only heard that voice once, yet its beauty had lingered in his memory. It was Francesca Findabair, the elven sorceress he'd encountered in the Valley of Flowers. Her presence here, at this time, was no coincidence.
After a brief deliberation, Wayne decided to meet her. He could glean information about the massacre and perhaps even receive a quest from the sorceress.
After all, stopping this atrocity and receiving experience and gold as a reward would be quite satisfying.
Wayne steered the flying carpet to a spot above the forest, hovering a dozen meters above the ground. After circling a few times, the air shimmered, and a stunning elven beauty materialized. Clad in a black and purple dress, her brow furrowed with sorrow, it was Francesca Findabair, the very same elf he'd encountered before.
Without hesitation, Wayne leaped from the carpet. His dragon scale armor protected him as he landed, creating two sizable craters in the ground a few meters from the sorceress.
Their eyes met. Wayne's face remained impassive, his usual stoicism intact, while Francesca's beauty was marred by grief.
Before Wayne could speak, Francesca asked, "Why are you here, Wayne? Did you hear about what's happening?"
Wayne shook his head. "I was traveling on other business," he replied. "I saw the fire from a distance and came to investigate."
Francesca lowered her head in contemplation for a moment. Then, without preamble, she pleaded, "Wayne, can you help my people? My position prevents me from intervening directly. It would only endanger the elves further."
"But you," Francesca insisted, "you could help without causing suspicion. As long as you conceal your identity and avoid using witcher Signs, no one should be able to trace it back to you."
As Francesca's plea hung in the air, the system's familiar chime rang in Wayne's ears.
Ding! Mission Triggered: [Rescue the Non-Humans], Expert Level.
Accept or Decline?
An expert-level mission meant he wouldn't encounter any significant threats during the operation. Wayne considered this as he observed Francesca, who, seeing his hesitation, bit her lip and offered, "Please help, Wayne. I know witchers don't work for free. If you can bring the non-humans to this forest, I'll pay you ten crowns for each person you save."
Wayne was taken aback. Ten crowns was worth four or five orens, meaning Francesca was willing to pay fifty orens per person rescued. If he saved twenty, he'd earn a thousand orens. It was a generous offer from the wealthy sorceress.
Ultimately, though, the rescue was a matter of principle for Francesca, stemming from her responsibility to her people and their survival. She was simply trying to handle a volatile situation.
Despite accepting the system's mission, Wayne didn't immediately agree to Francesca's commission. Instead, he paused, then said, "Lady Francesca, this rescue is my own initiative, not a commissioned task."
"I'm a half-elf, a witcher, and a man with a sense of justice," Wayne declared. "I don't need a reward. But to better conceal my identity, could you cast a spell to enhance my disguise?"
Francesca's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected anyone to refuse such a substantial reward. Yet, seeing such noble behavior from a fellow half-elf filled her with a renewed sense of hope. The sorrow in her eyes softened.
The sorceress uttered a brief incantation and waved her hand before Wayne. A shimmering mist enveloped him, obscuring his features, rendering him a vague silhouette.
Francesca then produced a small, cube-shaped device made of an unknown metal. She placed it in Wayne's hand, explaining, "This device allows us to communicate. I'll be watching over you. Once you're done, I'll contact you through this."
"Be careful, Wayne," she cautioned. "There are about fifty soldiers and over a hundred thugs in the town. They've herded the surviving non-humans to the center, preparing for a cruel trial and execution. You don't need to confront them head-on. Just rescue as many innocents as you can."
With that, Francesca stood on tiptoe, planting a gentle kiss on Wayne's cheek. "Thank you for your help, Wayne. Without you, I would have been forced to witness this tragedy unfold, powerless to intervene, left to weep in solitude."