A/N: One or two more chaps before we get back to Nasu and get to proper Kingdom building. Any advice on the location? Does anyone know which country has the loosest land laws that Leo can abuse the sh*t of?
Lying next to Ciri, O'Dimm's words replay endlessly in my mind as my hand absentmindedly strokes her hair.
Eredin had stricken a deal with Gaunter 'G.O.D' O'Dimm for power after their recent defeat at the Battle of Novigrad. The Merchant of Glass didn't spell it out—client confidentiality and all, but from what I can gather, the King of the Wild Hunt asked for 'the power to remove all obstacles,' trading it for the paltry price of the Soul of every Red Rider, himself included.
Eredin gambled not only his Soul but also those of every member of the Wild Hunt in a desperate bid to save his world.
The bloody fool… If he had only taught Ciri to harness the Elder Blood, she could've ended the apocalyptic threat. Instead, they got fixated on the Prophecy about another 'Chosen One'. Shrugging away the thoughts, I check the girl's breathing.
She's been asleep for half a day now… I know I was rough, but I wasn't that rough.
To be fair, it's hard for her to get a good night's sleep given her circumstances.
The only time I've seen her sleep soundly was when she was poisoned.
Part of me wants to wake Ciri and ask if she's okay, while the other part urges me to let her rest peacefully. I heed the latter, heading to my desk instead. There's not much I can work on other than the Witcher Trials, which is a whole different mess. I really should have brushed up on biology more… No excuse, really.
Obviously, I could use the existing process, but the mortality rate is unacceptable.
I cannot risk undergoing the Trials myself, nor can I let the knowledge languish unused.
The essence of the Trial of the Grasses in The Witcher can be loosely compared to genetic modification.
Unlike the precise gene editing of CRISPR on Earth, which accurately targets specific DNA sequences, the Trial uses magical substances to induce broader and, obviously, unpredictable genetic changes.
The lack of precision inevitably result in a higher risk, with many boys not surviving the process or suffering severe mutations a person can take one look and deduce as undesirable.
Even if the Trials are deemed a 'success,' I reckon there's still a tiny chance—something around 0.0073% of hideously unpredictable mutations cropping up later down the line.
Sure, it's not a high probability, but it still makes you wonder, how many Witchers went about their business, got their dose of Mutagens, and ended up… Well, horribly mutated on the road because of it?
Not exactly a cheery thought to dwell on, I must admit.
It's the inherent instability of the Trial of Grasses, not just the trainees' resilience, that makes it such a crapshoot.
A strong constitution accounts for maybe 15-23% of the equation, tops.
The rest is decided by how compatible the person's genetic information is. Finding a stabilizing factor—another herb may just be the key to lowering the mortality rate, but none fits the description thus far.
The Trial of Dreams, now that's another story. Not much use to me directly, though I suppose some extra knowledge never hurts.
It's the least reliant on Magic out of the Trials and is essentually a potent cocktail of psychoactive concoctions to rewire their neural pathways, specifically targeting the limbic system and overclocking the adrenaline response.
The result?
Witchers can basically go ice-cold the instant they face a monster and produce adrenaline instantaneously, though most report a lack of emotional reactions and volatility, with the sole exception being those from the School of the Cat.
Quite impressive, but [Reinforcement] already grants me similar control over my brain function, if not better since it is a switch I can flip on and off.
Normally, I'd pick Triss's brain, but I've already got some leads.
First, I need to refine the selection process. Identify genetic markers that indicate a higher chance of success with the Trial. Easier said than done without test subjects… Though, this being Novigrad, I'm sure I could find plenty of scums who wouldn't be missed.
[Structural Grasp] should also help isolate the right herbs with the properties I need.
The whole thing is going to be messy, but you know what they say about progress—it rarely comes clean.
"Leo?"
I turned to find Ciri bundled in the blanket, peeking at me with a hesitant expression.
"You doing good?"
"Better than good," She answers, getting to her feet. "Expected soreness, but…"
The blanket clutched to her chest, she glances around like a spooked deer.
"Bathroom's that way." Pointing her to the right direction, I then return to my studies.
Turns out, studying without pressure could be pretty damn relaxing.
More than reading or watching a movie, even, which is weird.
Didn't think I had that much 'nerd' in me.
Geek, maybe, but… Well, guess you learn something new about yourself every day.
"Would you… Would you—" Humming softly, I glance at the Witcheress, her fingers intertwined as she finally finds the courage. "Would you care to join me?"
"Why didn't you start with that?" I roll my eyes, setting down the book and sweeping her into my arms, carrying her to the bathroom where we bathe, do the 'unspeakable' in the tub, out the tub, on the floor, and against the wall until we're both sweaty and have to take a shower again. "Couldn't you have been gentler?"
Ciri playfully punches my arm, to which I respond with a shrug. "You were clearly giving me the 'fuck-me' look. Don't play coy."
She punches me again, her touch a playful tap against my skin.
"I got in contact with Triss… Apparently Geralt and Yennefer—my… Parents," She clarifies. "Are on their way to Novigrad."
"You want me to meet the in-laws so soon?"
"You don't want to?"
To be honest? Yesn't.
It would be awesome to meet Geralt, but Yennefer… I'm definitely not too thrilled about that particular conversation.
"Wait, by 'on their way,' do you mean they're still coming, or are they already here?"
"Already here." She says with an awkward smile.
"Damn."
Dinner was awkward, but I don't think Geralt or Yennefer disapproved. The latter was surprisingly friendly in fact… Too friendly, which I'm guessing is the effect of [Lust Spot], but fingers crossed.
The White Wolf's dry humor paired wonderfully with Yennefer's wit.
Despite the series of dramas that is their relationship, it's quite obvious why more people favor them over Triss.
They have way more chemistry.
As for me? I don't really care.
It's one thing to discuss it for fun when they were just fictional characters, but now it really isn't my concern.
We didn't just eat, of course.
They talked about Ciri's situation too and decided to borrow the strength of Nilfgaard, which I reluctantly agreed might be a necessity.
O'Dimm wasn't very forthright with his answers, but I know better than to underestimate the power the Devil could offer. Confident or not, that's no reason to throw caution to the wind. I am curious why the Merchant of Glass is so invested in Ciri's affairs, though my guess is he wants to prevent the White Frost from engulfing all the worlds too.
He's kind of like me in a sense.
What use is a merchant if there's no one for us to trade goods to?
After some discussion, we decided to split into two groups—Geralt and Yennefer would reconnect with old friends to seek their assistance, while Ciri and I would visit her friend Cerys. The people of Skellige are a tough, resilient bunch who relish a good fight, but with their ailing King, I'm skeptical about their willingness to help.
Bran an Craite is no longer the vigorous young King who united the Clans through sheer charisma; but instead an old man confined to his bed by the limitations of his body.
The chances of them offering us aid are slim, though perhaps there's a way to sway things in our favor.
Bran's death is inevitable, but we have ways to extend his time and allow him to resolve the succession issue.
A visit to Skellige was in order anyway…
The Berserker Potion which turn men to ferocious bears sounds useful… The God-Emperor of Mankind can keep his hairy Space Wolves, I'll have my Space Bears.
Hell, I might even ask John to create an entire legion of Homunculi with the same ability.
Our boat ride lasted an entire month…
A month of pure torment, what with the Sirens constantly attacking us like a bunch of rabid dogs… A few sailors were even snatched up and dropped onto rocky formations. They didn't survive the altercation, needless to say.
Poor blokes.
All we managed to recover were a few keepsakes the captain promised to return to their families, the rest were too… Chunky to recover. I can't be sure if he's trustworthy, but based on what little I knew of Skellige and its people, I was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt.
We docked in Kaer Trolde just as the sun was about to set, and the festive atmosphere was in full swing.
I never thought it possible for Kaer Trolde to be even more lively than Novigrad, but they certainly know how to throw a party… Plenty of alcohol too. "Beautiful place."
"Amicable people as well."
Ciri adds, jumping off the boat with me right behind her.
Immediately, I start scanning the area, trying to locate the fighting ring.
I'm compelled by the Bro Code to help a bro impress his crush.
I can't even remember the guy's name, but I believe it starts with a V?
Unfortunately, that will have to wait until we've spoken with King Bran and his children first.
Compared to other Kingdoms, Skellige's security measures are quite lax. You can walk right up to the castle without being questioned, probably due to the way their governmental system operates.
While not everyone can be granted access to the Jarl's halls, nearby villages affiliated with the clan regularly send representatives to discuss matters vital to their communities.
Sometimes it's to address famine, sometimes to negotiate a tax break, and other times to request assistance with a monster the village militia can't handle.
The Jarl doesn't seem very bothered with safety, which makes sense given the layout of the isles.
Skellige consists of five small islands with a combined mass barely larger than Novigrad, but Kaer Trolde is positioned in the middle.
It's practically impossible to approach an Craite territory without stumbling onto the navy of other clans. They may seem like an easygoing people, but Skelligens are always watching us every time we pass. They're discreet about it too, surprisingly discreet given their boisterous nature. Crossing the giant bridge, I wait for Ciri to do the talking, my eyes scanning the place out of curiosity.
I've crossed this very bridge dozens of times in the virtual world, but being here in person allows me to truly appreciate the architecture in all its splendor.
The grandeur brings to mind Odin's halls, while the scent of fire and treated wood filling the air soothes in a way.
Novigrad felt like any other city, and the villages reminded me of the rural areas in my country, but this? This is something entirely different. It's almost disheartening to think this structure too will fall into disrepair one day… Left to rot… The thought annoys me to no end.
"Leo! You coming?!"
Turning to Ciri, I follow her and the guards until we encounter two redheads.
One is prim and proper, while the other is unkempt and filthy, yet boisterous in a way that reminds me of the Red Baron.
"Ciri!" The two friends collide in a hug, while Hjalmar an Craite laughs heartily. "Well, look at little Ciri! All grown up! Feels like just yesterday you two were running around these halls."
"Hjalmar, it's nice to see you again."
"How have you been, my sister from another mother?"
"As well as can be, you?"
The drunken man chuckles. "Could do without Cerys naggin' me every day."
Exhaling tiredly, the woman glares at her brother. "I wouldn't have to if you'd just take your responsibilities seriously! Nilfgaard is pressuring us to choose a side while father's health deteriorates by the day. Kaer Trolde cannot be without its ruler!"
"Father did the same!" Hjalmar yells, taking a swig from the bottle he's holding. "He fought to gain the respect of the Clans; drank with them; dined with them! That's how he became King!"
"When he rose to the high seat, the clans didn't have Nilfgaard breathing down our necks!" The young princess protests.
Watching them as someone who used to have a sister, it really brings back memories…
After the brief altercation, they return to us. "Who's he?"
"Leonis Magnus," I introduce myself. "Just a traveling Mage and a good friend to Ciri."
"Just friends?" Cerys teases, her eyes darting between us.
"Well, we're more than that, but we haven't had that talk yet and I don't want to assume." I shrug, noticing the hurt look in Ciri's eyes. It wasn't my intention, to be honest. We literally have not had the talk. "We will after this…"
Greeting the an Craite children, I stay silent so the Witcheress can explain the situation, only adding snipbits where she stumbles. It doesn't take long for the an Craite to understand what we want from them, but even Hjalmar looks a bit reluctant. Reckless as he is, the man knows Skellige is in no position to help against Eredin and the Hunt.
"What if I told you we can help you form a non-aggression agreement with Nilfgaard?"
All jokes and insults aside, the White Sun is someone I can reason with.
"How?" Cerys practically leaps at my offer while Ciri and I exchange a glance.
"I have my methods."
I will make Emhyr listen, with or without the Witcheress' aid. He will have no choice but to. "I cannot guarantee long-term peace however, I can only give you time."
Non-aggression pacts don't last between countries unless there's a mutual exchange, and anyone who believes otherwise is an idealistic fool who really has no place in any governmental structure whatsoever.
Unfortunately, I cannot kill Emhyr.
Redania is in chaos with Radovid gone.
Temeria is but a vassal state trying to recover from the recent war.
If Emhyr were to die as well, the entire continent would be fucked.
Fortunately, there are many ways… I'm not above using [Hypnosis] or a Geas to bind the White Sun to my Will. It'll not be easy, but if I play my cards right, I'll be able to gain control quite easily, but I can't be here forever.
I need to go home, however hostile of an Universe it may be.
After conversing with the an Craites, we were able to broker a sort of agreement. They agreed to lend us 500 men, which is more than I had anticipated considering the circumstance. With the alliance solidified, we stayed for two nights before setting out for Nilfgaard.
The journey back to the continent was thankfully more tranquil.
By the sound of it, this captain is highly experienced and has a talent for identifying Siren nests from afar, and I have to admit, the guy's good… 10/10, would recommend to other Transmigrators.
"After helping you with the Hunt, I must leave." Gaze fixed on the horizon as I break the silence. Can't expect Ciri to do all the work.
"Yes, I reckon." Ciri smiles in my direction.
"But I can visit every month and a half."
With the time dilation, it'll be three for me. "And I can probably stay for two weeks each time."
"Can't I come with you?"
I shake my head. "We can try, but I don't think it will work. Besides, do you even want to?"
Her brows knit while I clarify. "No, wait, let me rephrase that: Can you?"
She still has obligations in this Universe, just as I do in mine.
"So it's going to be a distant thing?" The Witcheress shrugs. "I'm okay with that."
"Really?" Even I'm a bit taken aback at her nonchalance.
"Well, my parents' relationship is like this too. I don't find it strange, as long as you don't vanish on me… You won't, right?"
"Not unless I die."
We share a good chuckle, then Ciri rests her chin on the back of her hands as silence envelops us once more. "Your world, what is it like?"
"Dangerous," I reply after a few moments of consideration. "There's an apocalyptic threat around every corner… People like me, I would not say we're a dime a dozen, but there are people I don't think I stand much of a chance against."
"It's that dangerous?"
"It's worse. Much worse."
There's a wandering Queen I must appease, lest she obliterates the world…
There's the other 6 billions Curses swirling in the Grail, the Dick-Worm I'll have to deal with once and for all… And Heaven help us if we're stuck in a version of the FGO Timeline.
"Then why not stay here, with me?"
"For the same reasons you're bringing the fight to the Hunt… Tired of running."
"To those of us who're tired."
Taking a sip from the waterskin, Ciri pokes my rib to get my attention, then puts the drink in my hand.
"So, tell me about all these other worlds you've visited…"
"Most are dead worlds inhabited by monsters. Some are covered in sand, others just water. The most fascinating one was a world where humans built giant towers of rocks and steels that pierce the clouds."
That sounds like Earth.
"The people there had invented these… Contraptions—cybernetics they put in their bodies to enhance speed and strength; they used not horses, but metal machines fueled by flammable liquid. It was an incredible world."
Sounds like Cyberpunk…
It's Cyberpunk, isn't it?
I smell riches.
"Why didn't you get yourself one of those cybernetics?"
"They needed maintenance… And the process was irreversible… Why? Do I need something worked on?" She smiles mischeviously.
That's a loaded question if I've ever heard one.
"I just don't get it… Why'd you refuse a power-up?" I would opt for those cybernetics in a heartbeat if I weren't confident my body could evolve far beyond what mere machines can achieve.
"You'd take them?"
"Yes." I drawl without hesitation.
Shit, I'd probably get so much I'd get cyberpsychosis on the first day, and you know who else would? War veterans, workers with crippling injuries, people who born crippled—Holy shit! That's one Hell of a market to get into. "Ciri, after we've dealt with the Hunt and the White Frost, can you teleport me to that world?"
Cybernetic implants will be a massive hit on Earth, especially given the recent and upcoming wars. It's a market with the potential to explode and expand beyond any concept I've ever imagined, especially when combined with the Trials…
"Leo, I know that look. What's on your mind?"
"Profits. Unimagineable profits."
I'd not have to do much, just steal their designs and bring it back to my Earth.
My greatest sin was forgetting Cyberpunk Earth and the Witcher-Verse are loosely connected.
To be fair, it started as more of a joke among fans that CD Projekt Red decided to turn into a reality.
I hadn't expected it to actually apply, but here we are.
Quite the fruitful trip this has been.
Snorting at the techno babbles I've spewed, Ciri takes another sip of her drink and tells me. "I do have friends there I need to check up on there. After the Hunt?"
"After the Hunt."
The boat carried us to the heart of Nilfgaard much sooner than expected.
I had half a mind to cast [Notice-Me-Not], sneak into Emhyr's chamber, and give the Emperor the scare of a lifetime, but Ciri insists on talking to her father. When the two of us finally stumbled into his office, we found Geralt and Yennefer deep in discussion with the White Sun.
"The situation in Temeria is too unstable. I cannot divert my forces. They're spread thin as is."
"Not even for your daughter?"
The Emperor of Nilfgaard, with his raven-black hair swept back, turns around, first casting his gaze on his daughter, then on me.
"My heiress... And her Mage friend. Have you come to collect the reward?"
"Ciri!" Like the fussy mother she is, Yennefer rushed toward the Witcheress.
Geralt shifts on his feet, his hands subtly clenching as if palming the hilt of a sword. Meanwhile, the beautiful Yennefer shoots me a baleful, accusatory glare.
"Hey, don't look at me! She wanted to come."
"And you let her?!"
"Woman, she can literally teleport, and she needs to talk to her…" I glance uneasily at Geralt, whose sole response is a grunt that prompts me to finish. "Eventually."
"Bring the Mage his reward… For what it's worth, he has achieved what no one else has."
I know what I have to do, but I know not if I have the strength to do it…
His servant promptly steps forward with a chest of gold which I open it and take a deep whiff, testing my teeth against the gold. "It smells so damn good."
Then, under everyone's weary gaze, I reluctantly close the chest, hands shaking like leaves in the eye of the storm. "Sorry, but I can't accept this."
I have gold bars at home anyway…
"Leo, you're crying;" Ciri laughs, gesturing at the box. "Just accept the coins."
"I'm not crying! You are!"
Nearly in tears, I blow a 'discreet' kiss at the wooden chest, mouthing 'I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me' to it, before tearing my gaze away from the box of glinting metals.
"Loyalty prevents you from accepting my reward… My daughter could've befriended worse. If you wish, the warstead in my stable is yours. Now, if you three will excuse me, I have important matters I must discuss with my daughter."
Exchanging meaningful glances and a silent understanding, Yennefer, Geralt, and I exit the room.
An hour passed, and the four of us came together once more, with Ciri being the bearer of good news.
Emhyr had agreed to a non-aggression pact with Skellige.
The rest, however, she chose to withhold, though I could surmise the conversation.
"I've contacted the Lodge, but many were captured by the Witch Hunter and Redania… Philippa is nowhere to be seen, while the rest are on the run, or in a different Kingdom."
"I met our old friends… Most of them are willing to fight, a few rejected."
"Are there any ally we missed?" Mumbling under her breath, Yennefer paces.
"There's one more… A friend of mine—an Elven Sage."
Ciri mentions, while I hold back a groan.
At least his lab will be useful to me, and despite all the boosts the Witcheress received from my tampering with the Elder Blood, having a professional opinion to lean on can't hurt.
Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it though.
"We'll have to track him down, but—"
"He's in Crow's Perch," I respond absentmindedly. "If we hurry, we can have him cured of his affliction before the battle."
"You know Avallac'h? How?"
"You have your gifts, and I mine." I reply cryptically.
It'll take the an Craites and Emhyr half a month at least to mobilize their forces, "It's more than enough time."
"So we head out tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
Yennefer giggles as she 'sneaks' out of the room, dragging the White Wolf with her and leaving us to resolve the situation.
The moment the door closes, I feel Ciri's hands on my thighs, moving towards my lower region.
"We didn't have much privacy on the boat, did we?"
"No… No, we did not."
My hand rests on her jaw as the Witcheress kneels before me, her fingers slowly unbuttoning my pants. "Are you up for the challenge, Leonis the Extraordinaire?"
Nice, the nicknames are back!
"Aren't I always, princess?" Smirking, I hold her hair and guide her face to my lower region.
We're destined for a sleepless night, and I have no complaints…
All thanks to [Eternal Engine]…
I really owe Detachment one.
I'm unsure what would make a suitable gift for a Multiversal God, but it's only fair I get the guy something while enjoying all the benefits his 'Blessing' grants me.
If I ever find myself in Hades, I'll remember to steal some Ambrosia.
Chaos seems to like it enough.