Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

Beyond the woods lies a vast, open land.

The log fortress described by Brundane has long since vanished, leaving only burnt ashes and corpses scattered everywhere.

The corpses were piled up like a mountain, and the white bones could be seen through the rotting flesh. It was clear that this mountain of corpses was not built on flat ground, but rather gradually piled up from the bottom of a deep pit.

Although the depth of the pit is unknown, it is clearly not large enough to hold so many corpses, as some of them have already spilled out.

There were wheel tracks around the mass grave, some new and some old, indicating that someone had been transporting bodies here. Probably Nilfgaardians.

Brondan bit his lips until they turned purple, but looking at the scene before him, he felt a wave of powerlessness wash over him.

He can't do anything.

He could only remain silent, suppressing his anger and sorrow, keeping a straight face, and then leave.

Effensor stopped talking to Brøndane and began to remain silent. A person who has just experienced a huge shock and whose emotions are fluctuating greatly can easily be triggered by a casual remark from someone else.

Therefore, the best option is to remain silent.

The others remained silent as well; perhaps anyone who saw this scene would close their eyes, unable to bear to look.

...But suddenly, Effensor felt something was wrong; it seemed too quiet here.

In the sweltering summer heat, he heard neither the buzzing of flies around the corpse nor the chirping of cicadas, nor the sounds of other wild animals or insects.

All he could hear was the rustling of the summer breeze through the treetops and the muffled thud of horses' hooves on the mud.

Furthermore, he did not find any bite marks on the corpse indicating that it had been eaten by ghouls.

This is all too abnormal.

The Nilfgaardians carried out a brutal massacre here, piling up large numbers of corpses, which apparently gave rise to some kind of monster.

Affinso's series of thoughts happened in the blink of an eye, and the next moment, a shrill howl rang out.

"Aaaaaah!"

The shrill sound was like a demonic chant, and the magic it contained made people dizzy. The already distracted Brondan almost fell off his horse because of it.

The crater was gushing like a spring, and the creatures within were crawling out of the ground with lightning speed.

Effensor recognized the monster's identity at a glance—a demon spirit.

It's easy to imagine how many tragic stories lie behind this massive mass grave...

The people who lived through these stories are long gone, leaving behind only spirits born from their resentment before their deaths, which can prove that there was once a deeply unforgettable past here.

However, this spirit is significantly stronger than ordinary spirits.

She had almost solidified into a physical form and was exceptionally tall. Aifenso estimated her height to be at least four meters. The old, rusty sword in the demon's hand was like a toothpick to her.

What's even more striking is that she was wearing a decaying crown that had materialized from a dream, suggesting that she was no ordinary person in her previous life.

Effensor was the first to react. He drew his silver sword, dismounted, cast the Quen shield on himself, and charged toward the evil spirit emerging from the pile of corpses in one fluid motion.

"ah--"

The demon tried to howl to the sky again, but Effensor quickly threw a magic-blocking golden bomb, silencing her abruptly.

He dared not hold back against this unusual, unrecorded monster. After all, Effensor had never heard of a spirit attacking with sound like a siren before; who knew if it had any other abilities?

To be on the safe side and out of caution, he simply threw the precious magic-blocking gold bomb out.

At this moment, Brondan and the others also reacted. They all dropped their steel swords and instead drew short swords from their waists, the blades of which all gleamed with the unique luster of magic-resistant gold.

Perhaps this was originally intended for spellcasters like warlocks. If a warlock were to be wounded by a weapon forged with anti-magic gold, he would immediately collapse to the ground, dying without any chance of resistance.

But at this moment, these short swords are just right for dealing with demons that ordinary weapons cannot harm.

"clang!"

Although the demon had lost its magical abilities, Effensor still felt a chill run down his spine as he parried the demon's rusty sword.

It is powerful and heavy.

This was his first impression.

It felt as if a giant bear was swinging its paw at him, the heavy force forcing him to take two steps back to cushion the impact.

Since the demon spirit has no physical form, it doesn't consider inertia or center of gravity at all. Therefore, it doesn't pause after each swing of its sword, but immediately launches the next attack.

The rusty sword came whistling through the air, its strikes relentless, giving him no chance to catch his breath.

In this situation, Effensor could only keep blocking and dodging, while trying his best to find an opportunity to counterattack.

Suddenly, accompanied by a roar, a Sintra veteran brandished his Demon-Slaying Golden Short Sword and stabbed it directly into the demon's leg. Before the rusty sword could strike him, he released the short sword and rolled away to dodge.

The demon was briefly distracted, and Effensor seized the opportunity, slamming his left hand on the ground, causing the purple Aden Seal to rise. In an instant, the demon's movements slowed down, as if they had entered slow motion.

Then, on the ring that lit up on the Mark of Aden, the mysterious magical runes suddenly sprouted dark purple chains that bound the demon spirit, rendering it unable to move.

The others looked on in surprise, and the fighting even stopped for a moment. Everyone was at a loss, hesitating whether to continue the attack, afraid of doing more harm than good.

But this made Effensor a little anxious.

"Hurry! Cut her down!"

He shouted urgently. He had only maintained the Arden Magic Circle for a little over a second when a fine layer of sweat appeared on Effensor's forehead.

This improved version of the Yardange is much more powerful than the original, but it also consumes significantly more magic power and requires much more concentration.

In a one-on-one situation, once Effensor uses the Mark of Aden to bind the enemy, he won't have the energy to attack.

Fortunately, he had a group of well-trained teammates at this moment. These warriors did not doubt his words at all. After dispelling their concerns about doing more harm than good, they rushed forward and swung their swords at the demon spirit.

A few seconds later, the slightly ethereal demon let out a sigh that sounded like a lament, and suddenly turned into smoke and disappeared.

"Huh...we took her down?"

"Brondaen said, panting heavily.

"No," Effensor said, panting, shaking his head. "This thing isn't that easy to kill. As long as we don't destroy the token she entrusted to us, she'll come back no matter how many times she's killed."

"But don't worry, she won't show up again until at least tomorrow before sunrise."

"Ha ha."

Brondaneng chuckled twice, his voice filled with gritted teeth and hatred.

"That's good, very good. Let her live, and preferably let her kill all those Nilfgaardian beasts."

……

After this minor incident, Affinso became more vigilant, constantly monitoring his surroundings. He led Brundane and the others through a swarm of Andrag bugs and around a nest of giant ghouls, encountering no further monsters along the way.

They finally reached their destination as night fell.

"Bryn-Bunner".

Effensor read aloud while looking at a dilapidated road sign.

Then he looked in the direction indicated by the road sign, and just like before, it was a scorched earth.

The houses were burned down, all the wells were filled in, the river was filled with corpses, and the crops that were about to be harvested were all cut down.

All that remains is a wasteland, uninhabitable for the foreseeable future, covered with intermingled gray and white ash.

This time, however, it seemed that Brondan had anticipated this, leading them to the edge of the ruins and stopping in a secluded mountain hollow where they could escape the wind.

Then he began to direct the men. His deputy, Gitov, led the Sintra people who were familiar with the terrain and some of Drakalov's men in pairs to scout the surrounding area and confirm that there were no traces of Nilfgaardian activity nearby.

The rest were all Derakarov's men, who were tasked with setting up camp.

These people also acted in pairs.

Drakarov was originally supposed to join the reconnaissance, but he was nearly fifty years old, with a full head of silver hair and a goatee that reached his chest. After dismounting, he was clearly exhausted.

Before long, most people dispersed. Only Drakarov, who was snoring against a tree, and Effensor and Brondan remained standing side by side a little further away.

Effensor stared intently at Brondan, waiting for him to continue.

Now is probably the time to tell the truth.

To be fair, Brøndane had considered everything thoroughly, deliberately choosing a time when the two of them were alone. If everyone else were present, it would put pressure on Affinso and give the conversation a slightly threatening tone.

If that were the case, Effensor's left hand would already be making a mudra gesture, ready to strike.

"Let's speak frankly," said Brondane, lighting a cigar as he spoke.

Even in missions deep behind enemy lines where supplies were scarce, he preferred to pack less food and water but still include a box of cigars in his bag.

At this moment, Affinso was surrounded by clouds and mist, and Brøndane's words seemed to come from the sky.

"We have a special mission. As a Sintraman, even though I know that Sintra has been destroyed, I still have unrealistic fantasies. I am willing to do anything and pay any price to restore Sintra."

As he spoke, he began to pace back and forth.

Suddenly he turned to Effinso and said, "At first, I planned to use the money I'd saved over the years to recruit mercenaries and then join Foltest's army. After that, I could distinguish myself in the battles against the Nilfgaardians, be granted a title, and then fight my way back to Cintra. It will be a long process… I might not even finish it before I die, but I can have a son, and my son will have a grandson…"

"But later, I learned of another possibility."

Brondan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

"A possibility of overthrowing the country while I'm still alive."

He handed the paper to Effensor; it contained a portrait, painted with precious colored pigments, depicting the profile of a little girl with silver hair.

Brondan pointed to the person in the painting and said, "A man named Luwen found me. He gave me information, introduced me to Drakarov, and also provided me with passage."

"From him, I learned that the Sintra royal family was not completely wiped out. A week ago, Foltest's spy spotted Princess Cirira among a group of refugees. However, the refugee group was subsequently massacred by a band of Nausicaä's cavalry, and Princess Cirira's whereabouts are unknown, but she is somewhere near Streep."

"We plan to look for the princess there. She is still young and is most likely with other refugees."

"And we need an assistant, someone skilled in tracking, someone who can help us find clues, find any trace of the princess. After much thought, I realized that the most skilled trackers in the world are none other than you witchers!"

Brøndane shrugged, puffing on a cigar, and said, "The most sensitive noses, the sharpest eyes, and superhuman ears—if you can use these to track monsters, you can certainly use them to find people. You're far better than those detectives. And most of you are also solitary figures, much more trustworthy than those detectives who have shady dealings with royalty and nobility."

"Furthermore, the reason I made you wait three days in Novigrad is because I was waiting for further intelligence."

"Further intelligence indicates that Princess Cirira is confirmed to be in Streep, and it seems she is staying there."

"..."

Effensor fell into deep thought.

Isn't that Ciri? The one Geralt will be searching for all along.

However, he remembered that in The Witcher 3, the time was already in the 1270s, and Ciri was still alive at that time—which indirectly proves that she is definitely not dead now.

But what became of her during this period? Was she ultimately captured by the Nilfgaardians? Or was she successfully found by Brøndane? Or perhaps she was never found by anyone and left Sintra incognito?

Effensor thought about his own existence; he was a variable that shouldn't exist. Would the matter deviate from its original course because of his involvement?

On the other side, Brøndane continued speaking.

"Unfortunately, we've arrived too late. Perhaps by the time we find the princess, she will already be a corpse. Perhaps we will never find her, for she has already been captured by the Nilfgaardians."

He said calmly.

"But I won't be satisfied if I don't try."

"Moreover, even if I die, I want to die on the land of Sintra."

Effensor looked into Brundane's black eyes, which seemed like a calm, stagnant pool, but reflected on the surface were flames representing revenge and destruction.

He sought revenge against the Nilfgaardians and brought destruction upon himself.

Having witnessed Sintra's tragic fate, he seemed to have made some kind of decision...

"Because of confidentiality, I didn't tell you the details before," Brundane continued. "As compensation, I'll double your reward."

He then produced the withdrawal slip he had prepared beforehand, which was the same as the 500 crown withdrawal slip that Affinso had received earlier, except that the number had changed to 4000.

In addition, there is a land deed stamped with the Eternal Flame seal, on which the name of Brundane has been erased, and the transfer agreement extending from the land deed has been filled in with information, only waiting for Affinso's signature.

Effensor paused for a moment. Under medieval conditions, finding someone in war-torn Sintra was like a pipe dream.

But for the sake of four thousand crowns...

And judging from his current situation where he's stuck on a pirate ship and can't get off...

He reached out and took the check, saying, "No problem."

Brondan breathed a sigh of relief and patted Effensor on the shoulder to express his gratitude.

"But aren't you afraid I'll take these things and run away under the cover of night?" Effensor waved the two pieces of paper in his hand and said jokingly, which also eased the atmosphere.

However, his perpetually tense face made it seem like he was talking about this very seriously.

"Ha!" Brondane laughed, then shook his head slightly.

He reached out and tapped a spot on the withdrawal slip. Following his gaze, Effensor suddenly noticed the words "Authorized by the Kingdom of Temuria".

"Until we find Princess Sintra, neither you nor I," Brondane pointed to Drakarov, "nor anyone here can do without Sintra."

Effensor wasn't too surprised; he had long assumed that Brundane had a powerful backer.

……

Before the sun had completely set, the scouts returned one after another, and without any surprises, no one went missing.

They searched the area within several hundred meters, but found not a single living person.

Everywhere there were wrecks and ruins; apart from the signs at the intersections, almost everything had been vandalized.

After a brief discussion, Brondan and Drakarov decided to rest for the night.

Night soon fell.

The weather is great today; the night sky is bright, and the moon hangs high in the sky.

in the tent.

Even as the moon rose high in the sky, Effensor remained awake.

His eyes were bright and alert as he scribbled and drew in a notebook with a charcoal pencil in the dim candlelight.

Time was of the essence, and he needed to hurry up and complete the improvements to the Dharma Seal.

Even with the help of his left hand, he was incredibly inspired in his thinking and practice, but the lack of theoretical knowledge still made things very difficult for him.

Not all signs are as easy as the first improvement of the Igni sign.

Effensor had not studied magic in depth before, only having a superficial understanding. After becoming proficient in using the signs, he shifted his focus to swordsmanship.

Therefore, at present, only the Aard sign can be considered complete in terms of the improvement of the signs, allowing it to attract objects by reversing the Aard sign, instead of only being able to impact them outwards.

The Mark of Yarden only adds magical chains, but the cost is too high, and there's also the problem of not being able to move while casting it; it's just a half-finished product.

The Sign of Quen strengthened the shield, which could unfold like a wall or transform into a cylinder to protect him. The area covered by the Sign of Quen also changed from around his body to a radius of five meters.

However, it also has the problem of excessive energy consumption, and requires concentration to operate, so one cannot be distracted.

The Axe sign involves the mind, and Effensor knows almost nothing about mental power, so he can't make any useful improvements based on a mere flash of inspiration.

Ignis was the one Effensor considered the most difficult.

Of the four elements, fire is the most violent and the most difficult to control. Effensor could only barely condense the scattered flames into a fireball, which would explode if thrown, with a power similar to the warlock's low-level spell Fireball.

Igni Fireball doesn't require much attention to control and doesn't consume much energy, however... the timing of the explosion is difficult for Effensor to control. Sometimes it explodes as soon as it's formed, and sometimes it takes quite a while to explode after being thrown out.

In addition, there is the rarely used Heliotrop sign, which is used to defend against magical attacks. Due to its requirement to be cast with both hands, Effinso usually uses Quen as a substitute.

You can't just start a fight and then drop your sword to cast a spell with both hands, can you? That would be too stupid.

Effensor didn't put too much effort into this sign, only giving it a brief analysis.

His optimization of Heliotrope only extended to the point where it could be cast with one hand, and it still fell short compared to Quen. After all, this sign only works against magical attacks, and its versatility is far inferior to Quen, which can defend against both magical and physical attacks.

"well……"

After writing down his thoughts with a charcoal pencil, Effensor rubbed his blackened fingers and sighed.

He then wiped his hands clean and took out an ancient book from the saddlebag he had removed. This was one of the books he had obtained in the golem cave.

This book mainly explains advanced applications of magical elements, such as separating magical elements in the air to create pure fire elemental balls.

This knowledge was undoubtedly beyond Effensor's level. For him to read this was akin to a primary school student doing calculus.

He couldn't even understand many of the words in it; without someone to teach him these technical terms, he would never learn them in his entire life.

But he had no other books to read.

Now Effensor wishes he could travel back in time and slap himself for not thinking of this back then.

Why not take more from that cave?

But there was nothing he could do now. He could only rack his brains by the dim light of the candle, trying to connect the contents of the book with the superficial knowledge in his mind and attempting to understand it.

The more knowledge he acquires and the more spells he optimizes, the greater his chances of escaping unscathed from his upcoming journey in Sintra.

This is a matter of life and death...