Wayne arrived at the hill, several kilometers from the chaos of the camp, where Francesca had concealed herself within a small, hidden barrier. She sat with a crystal ball in hand, a faintly glowing magic circle pulsing before her. Her face was creased with thought, brows furrowed as she pondered something deeply.
When Wayne stepped into the barrier, her tense expression softened slightly, though the curiosity remained in her voice.
"I'm intrigued, Wayne," Francesca began, her tone questioning. "What exactly did you do to bring about this chaos?"
"The earthquake occurred half a month earlier than I predicted. Its magnitude and source were altered as well. Natural disasters like this are not easily manipulated, even by magic or human intervention."
She tilted her head, her eyes searching his face for an answer. "I didn't see you cast anything significant. Yet, a series of coincidences created absolute disorder in the camp."
Wayne merely shrugged, refusing to offer a direct explanation. "How's Henselt? I saw him being carried off by the warlocks. I avoided killing him outright to prevent complications."
Francesca's eyes darkened briefly, realizing Wayne had no intention of revealing his methods. She didn't press further, instead allowing a soft smile to curve her lips.
"Lucky for us, it went better than we anticipated," she remarked. "Seemingly by fortune."
"Sabrina has already reported the incident to the Supreme Council. Even with their warlocks tending to Henselt, his brain was severely damaged. They have no idea when or if he'll wake."
A note of calculation entered her tone as she continued, "If he remains comatose, Kaedwen will descend into chaos—far worse than we imagined. No kingdom can allow an unconscious man to reign, but without a will and no heirs, succession will be a nightmare. Those who seek the throne will lack legitimacy, and it'll be near impossible for any claimant to establish strong enough grounds to rule."
"And even if someone rises to power, as long as Henselt breathes, there's always the threat he could awaken and reclaim the throne. That specter alone will destabilize the country."
Francesca's smile took on a sharp edge. "This kingdom is destined for chaos, perhaps for the next decade or more."
Wayne listened quietly, nodding at her sharp analysis.
Wayne was initially perplexed. Based on Henselt's negative 20 luck, he had expected misfortune, but not on the scale of a natural disaster like an earthquake. Luck that bad shouldn't normally trigger something so catastrophic.
However, considering Wayne's own luck being well above thirty, it began to make sense. His heightened luck could have influenced the situation further. The balance of their opposing fortunes might have created a ripple effect, making Henselt's bad luck even worse.
And then there was the earthquake—something that had already been set to occur. It was likely triggered prematurely due to Henselt's presence and his cursed fortune. As for the exact cause of the quake, Wayne wasn't sure.
Looking to the elf sorceress, Wayne asked, "Where was the epicenter of the earthquake, and do you have any idea what triggered it?"
Francesca lowered her gaze to the crystal ball in her hands. Her eyes flickered with a silvery-white glow as the orb brightened, displaying a scene only she could comprehend. After several long seconds, she pulled out a finely detailed map of Kaedwen and laid it out before Wayne.
Pointing to a distant mountain range, more than ten kilometers from Ban Ard, she said, "The epicenter was here. The earthquake was quite peculiar—the affected area was small, but the damage was highly concentrated, and the magnitude intense. From what I can tell, a massive crack has formed in the mountain range, dramatically altering the terrain."
She traced the area lightly with her fingers, her voice growing more contemplative. "What's even stranger is the cause. It seems the magic nodes in the region experienced some kind of severe fluctuation. A surge of magical energy likely caused the underground damage, but I can't pinpoint the exact reason."
Francesca sighed softly. "I imagine this level of magic disturbance will attract the attention of the Brotherhood soon. They'll likely send someone to investigate."
Her voice, melodic and soft, carried through the air as she explained the situation. Yet she didn't notice the subtle shift in Wayne's expression as he studied the map.
As Francesca mentioned the fluctuations of magic power in the earthquake's source, Wayne felt a flash of realization. The location she pointed out was the same place where the spatial rift to the Diablo world existed—the one he had intentionally left unsealed. He had planned to release some of the lesser monsters from Diablo's realm into Kaedwen to stir up chaos, destabilize the region, and change the course of events. In a world where monsters were vanishing and witchers were being pushed to extinction, perhaps a resurgence of chaos could reverse their fate.
The world of Diablo was a unique one. The monsters that roamed its lands were projections of Hell's power, not true physical beings. Even when destroyed, they would eventually return, perpetually resurrected by the infernal forces.
Perhaps, through the strange combination of his own high luck and Henselt's catastrophic bad luck, the world of Diablo had begun to influence this one.
Understanding dawned on Wayne, and his expression remained calm as he turned back to Francesca. He explained with measured confidence, "Don't worry. No one can trace these events back to me. I possess a unique item that can bring misfortune to anyone I choose, without using magic or any detectable energy. The warlocks won't find any evidence."
He paused, a wry smile forming. "And this bad luck? It will last a while. I doubt Henselt will ever wake up."
Upon hearing Wayne's explanation, Francesca looked up, her eyes as clear as a still lake, and gave him a radiant smile.
"That's good," she said softly, her voice carrying a melodic quality. "Thank you, Wayne. Your efforts have truly shifted the situation in favor of the elves."
As her words trailed off, a familiar system prompt echoed in Wayne's mind.
Ding! The master-level quest, [The Situation in Kaedwen] has been completed.
Rewards:
450 experience pointsMaster-level treasure chest x1
Ding! Experience is full. Level increased. Current level: 13.
Wayne (20 years old)
Occupation: Witcher
Level: 13 (53/1300)
Ability Points: 4
Attributes: Strength 44, Agility 38, Constitution 37, Spirit 39
Skills: Swordsmanship LV10, Signs LV10, Gene Mutation LV10, Gwent Card LV10
Special Bloodline: Ancient Blood (Primary Unsealing)
Power of the Blood: Flicker, Source Warlock, Time & Space Travel
Auxiliary Skills: Archery LV5, Cooking LV10 Alchemy LV5. Beast Taming LV8, Magic Knowledge LV3
Satisfied, Wayne knew that a quest with such significant impact was well worth the effort. And with a master-level treasure chest in hand, there was bound to be more to come.
He reached out and gently lifted Francesca's chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There's no need to thank me so quickly, milady," he said, his tone playful. "Remember, you owe me a favor. And as long as it doesn't go against your principles, I'll claim it—eventually."
Francesca's face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. She playfully swatted his hand away. "Wayne, I promised to help you when necessary, but only if it aligns with the interests of the elves!" Her voice was firm, though a hint of amusement lingered.
Wayne chuckled, unfazed. "Same difference," he said casually, his grin widening. "For now, Kaedwen's troubles are dealt with, but I've got other matters to attend to. Keep in touch via the communicator if anything comes up."
His voice turned more serious. "You know, with Henselt in that state, Kaedwen's persecution of non-humans will halt for a while. Take advantage of the chaos and persuade more of our people to leave before it's too late."
As Wayne disappeared into the hills, Francesca stayed seated, holding her crystal ball, her face serene as her thoughts lingered. A few minutes passed before a tall, elegant figure materialized behind her.
It was Ida Emean aep Sivney, the elven sage of the Aen Saevherne, a powerful and ancient sorceress. Her long red hair cascaded down her back, and her dark blue eyes carried the weight of centuries. Though her appearance was youthful, her cold, detached demeanor exuded an air of aloof wisdom.
Ida was one of the most powerful and secretive figures among the elves of the Blue Mountains, a protector of her people, tasked with safeguarding their survival. Though she appeared ageless, Ida had lived through millennia, witnessing the rise and fall of elven civilizations. She was a living archive of elven history, a sage with unparalleled magical knowledge.
As Ida approached, Francesca, sensing her presence, paused in her spellwork and asked, her voice controlled and calm, "Did he sense you, Ida?"
The elf sage, her expression as inscrutable as ever, shook her head slightly. "No," she replied, her voice even and emotionless. "Although his senses are sharp, his mastery of magic is still in its infancy. He couldn't detect my presence."
Francesca let out a small sigh of relief. She had no desire to provoke Wayne. His trust was essential, and she couldn't afford to jeopardize their alliance with such a misunderstanding.
As she re-focused on her remote viewing spell, observing the aftermath of the chaos at Henselt's camp, she asked, "You wanted a closer look at Wayne, and I allowed it. Did you learn anything, Ida?"
Ida's gaze remained fixed, her tone steady but with a slight uptick of interest. "Yes, I've seen enough. He is... different."
Francesca raised an eyebrow, intrigued. It wasn't often that Ida found something curious. "Oh? And what sets him apart from the usual kind?" she asked with genuine interest.
Ida turned her head slightly, her sharp eyes locking onto Francesca's. "He carries the blood of the Elder Folk—Hen Ichaer. The concentration of his ancient bloodline is significant. He has the potential to become an elven sage, should he be guided properly."
Francesca's eyes widened slightly at this revelation. The Elder Blood, the lifeblood of the ancient elves, was a rare and powerful gift.
Ida continued, her tone analytical, "His physical prowess is extraordinary—six to seven times that of a regular human. Even among witchers, his strength and endurance are abnormal. I can sense several distinct powers within him, each originating from different magical systems. This suggests he has journeyed across worlds, acquiring magical items from other civilizations."
The sage's voice grew even more serious. "Most importantly, despite undergoing the mutations of a witcher, his genes remain vigorous. The usual sterility brought on by these mutations may not fully apply to him. With some further adjustments, he could still be capable of producing offspring."
Ida's cold gaze met Francesca's, and a hint of amusement crept into her otherwise detached tone. "It seems you've taken a liking to him. If you wish to bear his child, I see no reason to object. His bloodline is perhaps the most potent of any male elf in existence."
A playful, yet calculated, gleam appeared in her eyes. "Unlike most elves, Wayne possesses ambition, aggression—traits that could benefit our people. If you were to have a child with him, it could greatly strengthen our race's future."
Ida's lips curled into a faint smile as she added, "I too may consider it. The blending of our bloodlines could advance the talent of Hen Ichaer even further, possibly resulting in a resurgence of the Elder Blood's full potential."