The old woman, in her aged form as Melitele, looked majestic and solemn, entirely different from her carefree young maiden or nurturing, maternal appearances.
She seemed quite similar to how Nanike was described in the original book during her strict and dignified years.
This was exactly how Allen had always imagined a god would appear. So, without realizing it, he straightened up, looking in the direction pointed out by the old woman's finger.
At first glance, he didn't see anything special.
But as he looked more closely, he noticed a piercing, icy-blue glow faintly emanating at the boundary where the golden wheat fields met the starry sky.
The key part was…
When he became aware of the contrast between this glow and the golden fields and stars...
What… is that?
I… can't… seem to…
It was as if the Witcher's thoughts had been frozen; his consciousness quickly grew sluggish.
"Wake up!" The old woman's hoarse whisper echoed by his ear.
A warm current flowed through his entire body.
"Haa—haa—haa—"
The Witcher jolted as if shaken awake, breathing heavily.
His breath formed a mist of cold vapor, drifting toward the golden wheat field like a long trail of fog before slowly dissipating over time.
With Melitele's help, Allen forced the chill out of his body. However, his nearly frozen thoughts only slowly began to thaw after quite some time.
Once he regained his senses…
He quickly turned his head, too afraid to look back. The chill that could freeze his mind was utterly terrifying. Just recalling it made his scalp tingle and his skin crawl.
"What… what was that?" Allen's voice trembled as he asked. But the moment his thoughts thawed, he guessed the name.
"Remember, the time of sword and axe is near, heralding the era of the White Frost and Winter of the Cold Wolf."
"The world will die in frost and be reborn under a new sun."
----------------------
The old woman recited the prophecy, familiar to everyone on the Northern Continent, in her raspy voice.
"Frost, White Light, White Frost…" the old woman murmured, her gaze fixed on the light that was slowly freezing her divine realm, "It goes by many names, yet no one knows what it truly is."
"Not even the gods?"
"Especially not the gods," the old woman replied, tilting her head and fixing her cold, golden eyes on him.
The Witcher paused in thought.
Especially not the gods…
The words held a certain profound implication!
Before he could inquire further, the old woman continued explaining on her own: "The gods are prisoners of this world. We share the powers granted by it, yet because of that, we cannot escape it, becoming part of the world's defenses, a shield against external forces."
"Thus, we can't know anything that lies beyond this world."
"And when we sense we're being affected, we've already been separated from our foundation, blinded, silenced…"
"But according to the prophecy, hasn't the White Frost yet to arrive?" Allen asked, confused.
In the original timeline and the game, the White Frost hadn't arrived for hundreds of years, not even until the Witcher profession itself had disappeared.
However…
In the original story, the White Frost seemed more like a natural glacial cycle than any sort of supernatural power. And it clearly contradicted the prior descriptions, where the Wild Hunt was fleeing from the White Frost, and various other references to it.
The Wild Hunt can cross worlds.
It's one thing if the Witcher's world entered an ice age, but could every world consecutively enter an ice age?
From the perspective of a Witcher, it was hard to fathom how a mundane, unembellished natural cycle could achieve that. So in the actual world, the Witcher had never taken the original story's vague, contradictory concept of the White Frost as aligning with the prophecy's vision.
But regardless…
Though reality and some parts of the original storyline and game had slightly diverged, the main timeline hadn't changed.
So…
Why was Melitele already affected by the White Frost, hundreds or even thousands of years ahead of time?
"It hasn't come yet?" The old woman chuckled. "The White Frost has already arrived; it may have begun affecting the world even before the gods were blinded…"
"Huh?" The Witcher was startled.
"Do you truly believe that the diminishing number of monsters is solely because you Witchers have slain so many?" the old woman asked.
"Isn't it?" Allen blinked, surprised.
The old woman shook her head: "No, at least not as the primary reason."
"The tides of magic are receding, affected by the White Frost. Just as it is with my divine realm, the world's vitality is diminishing."
"Creatures dependent on magic for reproduction and survival are naturally finding it harder to produce offspring."
"When you compare this decrease in magical creatures to the numbers slain by Witchers, the effect of your hunts is relatively minor."
The Witcher fell silent.
He didn't doubt the old woman's words.
It was just…
Why would she reveal these vulnerabilities, this divine helplessness, to an ordinary mortal?
"What can I do?" he asked.
The old woman smiled, looking at Allen with a hint of admiration: "Just do what you must."
What I must do?
Allen hesitated.
What am I meant to do?
Hunt monsters as a Witcher?
Or perhaps…
Allen glanced sideways at the old woman, swallowing nervously.
The old woman smiled kindly again and pointed toward another direction in the sky. Though a bit puzzled, the Witcher cautiously glanced over.
Hmm?
Where the old woman's aged, wrinkled hand pointed, he saw a faint ripple, nearly indiscernible to the naked eye, forming amidst the icy-blue glow so sharp it felt like it could cut through bone.
In the center of the ripple, the icy-blue light faded until it was nearly the pure black of the dazzling night sky itself.
From the center outward, the blue grew darker, though even at the edges, it was lighter than the surrounding area.
"This appeared on the first day of the vernal equinox," the old woman said, "A green light pierced through my divine realm. It was on this day that the connection between the divine realm and the real world strengthened."
"Otherwise, I might not have been able to send dreams on the eve of Belleteyn."
The vernal equinox…
The Witcher pondered.
Wasn't that the day of the dueling competition between the Wolf and Cat School apprentices?
So…
"Yes, it's the Conjunction of the Spheres," the old woman explained. "The Conjunction's force links two worlds, breaking the White Frost's barrier."
"And for almost a month afterward, the power of the White Frost enshrouding the divine realm has been waning."
"The divine realm serves as a shield for this world, part of its fabric, so our world clearly benefited, delaying the White Frost's moment of harvest…"
"So, Miracle Child, initiate the next Conjunction of the Spheres as soon as possible. This is something only someone with the ability of Ard Gaeth's Gate can accomplish."
The Witcher wasn't surprised that the old woman knew of his status as the Miracle Child.
After all, even Ianna, the Archpriestess of the temple, knew of it. But the ability of Ard Gaeth's Gate…
It seemed Melitele didn't know about the Witcher's journal—this point was worth noting.
As for triggering another Conjunction…
Since Melitele had only mentioned the vernal equinox's resonance, then a typical Conjunction likely wouldn't meet the requirements.
At the very least, it would need a second-stage hunting task, like "Interworld Fusion," but…
The Witcher hesitated for once: "The Wild Hunt may be tracking the resonance of Ard Gaeth's Gate. Using the Conjunction frequently will surely attract them."
"It's too dangerous to confront them directly right now."
"No matter…" The elderly woman replied, merely tapping her forefinger against the witcher's forehead.
A large chunk of information was transmitted over.
[Name: Melitele's Concealment Ritual]
[Type: Magical Ritual]
[Requirement: Ritual Studies LV1]
[Materials: Chalk x2, Sulfur x2, Magic Dust x1, Mercury Solution x1]
[Function: Creates a ritual formation that conceals spatial fluctuations.]
[Note: This isn't truly a concealment ritual; it's more like sending a remote message similar to "Mom, I'm hungry." The subsequent concealment process will be remotely controlled by the one receiving the message, using divine power.]
"If you don't want to attract the Wild Hunt, you just need to set up this formation in advance."
"However, for a weaker level of Conjunction of the Spheres…"
"It's similar to the seeds you summoned during Belleteyn; the spatial fluctuation is weak."
"If the Wild Hunt isn't nearby, it'll be hard for them to detect. Or just pick a place like a cave or underground site, avoiding open-air locations."
"But…"
The elderly woman paused, sighing as she continued: "It's not really the Wild Hunt that's making you hesitate, is it?"
It was a statement, not a question.
The witcher remained silent.
To be honest,
Since crossing over, he'd experienced so much that he didn't consider himself a sentimental person.
When he killed the Cat School scum, he didn't hesitate.
When a troublemaker tried to cheat him out of his reward, he acted without mercy.
Even if it was a monarch, if they dared to harm something he valued, Allen would make sure they suffered terribly. Yet the horrific aftermath of the merging realms in Ban Ard was still vivid in his memory.
Blood ran like rivers; corpses littered the ground.
He had no love for that city, but there were always innocent people among the masses. Were all those who died truly villains?
Besides,
If the commotion after the second-phase hunt was already so great, what would happen with the third and fourth phases?
Would there be an unintended disaster affecting peaceful cities like Ellander?
In the end,
He was just an ordinary man from an orphanage, without the kind of heartless resolve that would sacrifice innocent people for his own interests.
Maybe that's why he had only ever been a middle manager with no power, despite his years of excellent performance. So the elderly woman was right.
He was indeed hesitating.
And ever since leaving Ban Ard, he'd continued to hesitate.
Along the way, there had been contracts involving drowners—conveniently nearby even—but he'd felt an aversion to accepting them.
But now,
The variables in the equation had changed.
The weight of innocent lives was reduced by the grand task of saving the world; something called "the greater good" was now on the other side of the scale.
What choice should he make?
"So… will this really be able to save the world from the White Frost?" the witcher asked, struggling internally.
The elderly woman looked at him with pity, shaking her head: "I don't know."
"But maybe every extra bit of time we gain will slightly increase the odds of saving it."
She doesn't know… maybe…
Aren't you going to try to convince me?
The witcher looked at her in surprise.
Hadn't she just urged him to initiate the Conjunction of the Spheres as soon as possible?
Why was she now saying something else?
The elderly woman's expression remained calm: "I told you, the more godlike the being, the harder it is to fully grasp the scope of the White Frost."
"So, in truth, I can't say for certain which choice is better."
"However, based on observation, as the bearer of the Ard Gaeth, causing as many, and as large-scale, Conjunctions of the Spheres as possible seems beneficial to the world."
"But…"
The elderly woman paused for a second, as if in thought.
"Though I've been blinded by the White Frost for a long time, and reality has seen many changes, one thing I believe hasn't been wrong."
Her molten gold eyes solemnly locked onto the witcher: "Humanity has never needed a god."
"Child of Miracles, since you were born of humankind, chosen by the world itself as its miracle…"
"Then I am more inclined to trust in your choice."
Child of Miracles… again with the Child of Miracles…
The idea of choosing humanity's future sounds grand, but all Allen could feel was its oppressive weight.
"How was the Child of Miracles chosen by the world?" the witcher couldn't help but ask.
Was it simply because he was a traveler from another world?
Could a foreigner really make decisions about fate for the people of the witcher's world?
And concerning the White Frost, he didn't have any information. How was he supposed to choose?
The elderly woman was silent for a moment, then shook her head: "This isn't something you can know now. It's not that I don't want to tell you; it's that I can't."
So mysterious?
Allen wanted to press further, but his body was beginning to feel light, almost weightless.
He looked down.
His body had become somewhat transparent, revealing a multicolored orb within, similar to the dreamlike scenery he'd been in.
"Time's up," the elderly woman said. "Is there anything else you want to ask?"
An inexplicable force of levity grew stronger, lifting the witcher's feet off the ground.
She was right.
The time for Divine Dreamwalking was ending, and he was about to leave Melitele's divine realm.
Anything else he wanted to ask?
He had countless questions…
But most of those concerning the White Frost seemed destined to go unanswered. The witcher searched his mind, countless thoughts flashing through.
Wait!
"If we do nothing, how much time do we have left?" he asked urgently. "When will the White Frost reach the present world?"
The elderly woman shook her head: "Originally about a thousand years, but since the Wild Hunt appeared near the Spiral last month, the timeline has been shrinking—now around eight hundred years…"
Seeing the witcher almost dissolving into a ball of light, she waved her dark cloak, stabilizing his form slightly, and added, "So the legends of the Aen Seidhe before humanity arrived weren't wrong; the White Frost is indeed pursuing the Wild Hunt."
Also, appearing last month…
Those damned long-eared creatures were indeed after the Ard Gaeth.
Wait!
Perhaps he wasn't as helpless in seeking information on the White Frost…
But this wasn't the time to ponder that. As he felt his body grow lighter, even Melitele's power struggled to hold him back.
Remembering he still had nine unopened chests in his inventory, Allen quickly asked, "Goddess, could you bless me with greater luck?"
The elderly woman chuckled with rare amusement: "I don't have authority over luck or destiny…"
Huh?
But he had no time to probe further.
Melitele's power abruptly faded.
Caught off guard, the witcher was propelled toward the endless stars.
If Melitele didn't have dominion over fate, how did he get five out of five?
In the next moment, Just as the barrier of the divine realm loomed ahead, a golden light suddenly caught up, merging into his spherical form.
A playful voice whispered in his ear.
"Don't forget again, witcher…"
"I am the goddess of abundance, harvest, and childbirth, the eternal maiden, mother, and crone…"
"Melitele!"
.................
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
293. A Color Brighter than Gold.
294. Who Am I?
295. Time to Go Home.
296. Surprise.
297. The Cambridge Ceremony.