The Next Day.
"Is Sunny hiding something?"
Standing before the lone, pure white tower in the northwest corner of the academy, Miguel scratched his sparsely-haired head in confusion.
At Ban Ard, every male sorcerer employed by the academy had a tower of their own—it was nothing unusual. However, not all towers were created equal.
Just as in Ard Carraigh, where no building's roof could surpass the height of the royal palace, the towers at Ban Ard Academy also adhered to an unspoken rule. While all sorcerers were theoretically equal in rank—except for the dean—the number of floors in a sorcerer's tower subtly reflected their achievements and standing in the sorcerer community.
Hen Gedymdeith's Starlight Tower had six floors.
Sunny's Elemental Tower had five.
Miguel's own Ritual Tower had three.
"Five floors..." Miguel scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Either this mysterious newcomer is recklessly arrogant, or the dean truly sees Vilgefortz as a successor to the top five of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers…"
"Vilgefortz of Roggeveen..."
Frowning, he murmured the newcomer's name once more as he approached the tower. "Why have I never heard of this name before?"
When the intricately carved black wooden door of the white tower opened, Miguel was once again stunned.
A young woman of graceful figure and refined features stood at the doorway.
Though Ban Ard was an academy for male sorcerers, adult sorcerers' towers often housed women for various reasons.
Setting aside gender-based differences in roles, sorcerers weren't exactly monks bound by strict vows, and from time to time, they sought companionship to satisfy certain needs.
Thus, what surprised Miguel wasn't the presence of a woman, but her identity.
The young woman wasn't an ordinary person.
She was a sorceress—and a highly skilled one at that.
Sensing the vibrant magic brimming within her, Miguel instinctively tilted his head, unsure: "You… are you Vilgefortz?"
"Hehehe~" The young woman laughed softly, covering her mouth with elegance.
The radiant morning sunlight seemed to pale in comparison to her charm.
Momentarily distracted, Miguel noticed the paint on her hands—she must have been painting before opening the door.
"Pardon my rudeness," the young woman remarked, lowering her hands to rest gracefully before her abdomen. "Vilgefortz is upstairs. Please follow me."
She wasn't Vilgefortz?
Watching the young woman lead the way like a poised maid, Miguel felt a surreal sense of disbelief.
Was this refined and poetic sorceress truly one of those arrogant, ill-tempered practitioners?
"By Kreve, who in the world is Vilgefortz?"
Miguel couldn't pinpoint his emotions. He instinctively smoothed his sparse hair as he trailed after her, step by step, through the tower.
Silk, paintings, flowers, wooden carvings…
The interior of the white tower was nothing like the other towers Miguel had visited, which were typically filled with jars of monstrous organs, human bones, and blood.
Rather than a sorcerer's tower, this felt more like the showroom of an aristocrat with a passion for art.
The serene environment, paired with faint woody fragrances, gradually eased Miguel's simmering frustration from being tricked at Banra Mill.
"We're here," the young woman said softly.
They stopped before a metallic door on the second floor, adorned with a carved magical array.
"…Virs… Ley… Fow..."
As someone well-versed in rituals, Miguel quickly deduced the magic circle's function: a highly effective barrier against magical fluctuations, vibrations, and sound.
It was a magical training room.
These were common in sorcerers' towers, though adding such a powerful enhancement to the magic circle was rare.
"Ding—"
The young woman rang a small bell beside the door, causing the magical array to light up instantly.
Shortly after, a calm male voice came from beyond the door: "Come in."
The young woman pulled the iron door open and gently reminded Miguel, "Please retract your sensory field."
Though puzzled, Miguel followed her advice out of courtesy.
The next moment, he understood why she had warned him.
"Whoom~"
As the door opened, a torrent of volatile magical energy surged out, accompanied by a strong gust of wind.
Four elements—red, blue, green, and brown—swirled in dazzling patterns, resembling the auroras of the far north.
Had the young woman not cautioned him, the unguarded Miguel might not have been seriously harmed, but he would certainly have been overwhelmed.
As the chaotic elemental energies began to settle, Miguel cautiously peeked inside.
A man in a black sorcerer's robe caught his gaze and offered an apologetic smile:
"Apologies…"
That man was Vilgefortz!
One glance was enough for Miguel to grasp the truth.
The five floors of Vilgefortz's tower were no sign of arrogance.
Not only was Vilgefortz of Roggeveen tall, handsome, and noble in bearing, his voice sincere and resonant, but the natural elements around him behaved like obedient servants, as if utterly devoted to him.
Such mastery and affinity with the elements were traits Miguel had only seen in one other person: Hen Gedymdeith, the academy's dean.
And as everyone knew, Hen Gedymdeith held a unique and rare identity…
A Source!
And not just any Source—a Source who could fully control their innate powers.
Miguel struggled to maintain a neutral expression, but his mind raced with astonishment.
"By Kreve…"
"This is what Sunny called 'exceptional in combat'? Could Sunny even hold his own against Vilgefortz?"
Every sorcerer understood this truth:
A spell cast by an ordinary practitioner was incomparable to the same spell cast by a Source. In casting speed, spell intensity, and destructive range, they were worlds apart.
The magical training room wasn't a suitable place for conversation. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Vilgefortz led Miguel to his nearby study.
Much like Hen Gedymdeith, Vilgefortz's study also contained an immense collection of books.
Bookshelves were overflowing, and even the floor was lined with towering stacks of ancient tomes. Some books' pages were yellowed with age, while others were made of unique, exotic materials, clearly centuries old.
Despite the sheer number of books, the study was remarkably tidy, with everything organized systematically.
The open books atop some of the piles lent the room a distinctive scholarly charm.
"Where did Vilgefortz get so many books?" Miguel surveyed the study, surprised.
But that was just his initial reaction. His mind was preoccupied, so he didn't dwell on it.
After sitting down on a chair with a soft cushion, he brought up the matter at hand with Vilgefortz.
"Witchers?" Vilgefortz, seated in a high-backed chair, asked after listening to Miguel's account.
"Yes," Miguel nodded, thanking the young girl who poured him wine. "Nine witchers from the School of the Wolf. Sunny recognized the leader as Witcher Master Vesemir. Typically, Vesemir is accompanied by Allen..."
"Allen?" Vilgefortz, intrigued, sipped his fine red wine, interrupting softly. "You mean the one knighted in Ellander, promoted as the youngest Witcher Master in Ban Ard, and nicknamed the Blue Death?"
Miguel's face darkened slightly.
That witcher named Allen had earned both his promotion to Witcher Master and the nickname "Blue Death" at the expense of Ban Ard's reputation. Moreover, Vilgefortz's tone, as though he wasn't affiliated with the academy himself, was rather grating.
But considering that Vilgefortz had likely joined the academy recently, Miguel just nodded. "Yes, that's him."
"Though, the knighthood... not many in Ban Ard know about that."
Vilgefortz chuckled softly. "Three weeks ago, when the invitation from Hen Gedymdeith arrived, I was at an ancient elven burial site."
"A burial site near Ellander in Temeria."
An ancient elven burial site... Was Vilgefortz studying ancient elven magic... or their alchemy?
It made sense.
Elves were indeed the best at developing magic talents.
Miguel's perception of Vilgefortz grew more vivid. "Then about this matter..."
"I share common interests with Lord Sunny, so I wouldn't refuse such a trivial matter. However..." Vilgefortz paused. "Does Lord Sunny prefer them captured alive or...?"
Miguel hesitated at the question.
Sunny hadn't specified that.
Or perhaps, considering the strength of a veteran Witcher Master, a newly minted but formidable Witcher Master, and seven apprentice witchers from the School of the Wolf, even Sunny couldn't confidently demand they be captured alive.
Yet Vilgefortz's tone was so casual, as if those witchers were nothing more than foolish, harmless rabbits in Blue Mountains, ready to jump into a trap on their own.
Given his magical prowess, maybe it wasn't impossible.
"Uh... then... then try to capture them alive," Miguel said. "If possible, at least capture that Allen. We're all very interested in that troublesome little one."
"Rest assured," Vilgefortz replied with a faint smile. "I'll bring them all back alive."
Miguel was momentarily stunned but didn't argue.
He retrieved a sealed material pouch from his robes. "This is the blood of the drowners they killed last night. Can you perform divination?"
"I can..." Vilgefortz took the pouch. "Water divination, fire divination, entrail divination... I was raised in the Circle of Druids in Kovir. Those druids excel at finding things..."
"That's great... that's great..." Miguel forced a smile and stood up. "I have tasks assigned by the dean to complete. I leave this matter in your hands."
"Of course," Vilgefortz also stood. "I'll head out shortly."
Miguel nodded, but just as he was about to leave, he remembered something and added: "By the way, it's best if the dean doesn't know about this."
"I understand."
Seeing Vilgefortz's solemn nod, Miguel had no further doubts. After bidding farewell, he followed the young girl out of the room.
When he arrived, he hadn't paid much attention. But now, with confidence in Vilgefortz's abilities, he felt at ease.
Relaxed, Miguel began to carefully observe the collection of the second source mage he'd ever encountered—Vilgefortz.
By chance.
Several books on a nearby shelf were open atop a stack.
Out of curiosity about the source mage, Miguel glanced at them as he passed.
One was seemingly a genealogy of Temeria's royal family. However, what was circled was not the Temerian King Goidemar but Queen "Riannon"...
Another book, with its yellowed, ancient pages, was inscribed with Elder Speech. Miguel could not discern much with just a glance. However, atop this ancient book lay a piece of chiffon paper, apparently Vilgefortz's own translation.
"Know that the time of swords and axes is near; it is the era of the Wolf's Blizzard..."
"The age of white frost and white light approaches; it is the time of madness and contempt: Tedd Deireadh, the Time of End..."
"The world shall perish in the white frost and be reborn under a new sun..."
"That is also the time when Hen Ichaer—Elder Blood—shall sow the seeds of rebirth..."
---------------------
"This seems to be the prophecy of the elven seer Ithlinne. But..." Miguel paused, puzzled. "After 'reborn under a new sun,' shouldn't it be about the Child of Miracles?"
"Elder Blood... what is that..."
His curiosity piqued, Miguel considered going back to ask but remembered Sunny, who was still stalling the other ritual mages for him.
After a moment's thought, he simply moved on.
"Forget it. I'll come back to ask after finishing the dean's task," he thought.
As Miguel's footsteps faded, Vilgefortz's warm smile vanished, as if it had been nothing but a mask.
Tap-tap-tap~
His slender, pale index finger tapped lightly on the chiffon paper on the desk.
Vilgefortz spread out the folded paper.
"Lydia..."
"I'm here," the young girl responded just as she returned from seeing Miguel out.
"Set aside the artifacts excavated from the ancient elven tomb in Gharond."
"Going after the witchers?" The girl gazed at Vilgefortz, her eyes filled with love.
But Vilgefortz, seemingly oblivious to her genuine affection, merely gave a brief nod, his expression blank as his gaze lingered on the chiffon paper.
The paper was filled with elegant aristocratic cursive in Elder Speech on both sides.
Most of the lines were identical, with only a few differing words.
Beneath these words, deep underlines and symbols were added.
Had Miguel still been there, he would have noticed that the chiffon paper bore Ithlinne's prophecy on both sides.
And the emphasized lines all revolved around two central ideas...
"Elder Blood... Child of Miracles..." Vilgefortz murmured distractedly. "Why would Ithlinne make two different prophecies?"
"What exactly... did she see when she prophesied?"
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
331. Crashing the Necrophage Party.
332. The Envoys of the God Kreve.
333. A Bountiful Harvest!
334. The Dwarf Princess in Need of Rescue.
335. A Unique Grandmaster Wolven Armor Set.