Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

This was Ciri's first magical outburst, but not her last.

Her magical outbursts always occurred suddenly, without warning. However, she no longer caused such widespread destruction; she would often suddenly enter a trance-like state and then make vague, incomprehensible prophecies.

For example, things like the sun, an empire, an emperor, or protection and redemption...

And freedom and liberation, and all sorts of other nonsense.

She seemed to be talking about Nilfgaard, but everyone felt something was off.

Nilfgaard could not possibly be associated with those words; absolutely not.

But if that's the case, then what exactly she was saying—that's something no one can know.

Time passed slowly, and before we knew it, it was deep winter.

As the heavy snow fell, this castle, forgotten by the world and nestled in the mountains, was completely buried in nature.

Outside the window, heavy snowflakes fluttered down, turning Kaer Morhen into a pure white world. The sapphire-like lake was now frozen over and covered with a thick layer of snow, looking like a flat snowfield.

Inside the window, the fireplace roared. As usual, Effensor got up shivering, lit the fireplace with the Igni sign, got dressed, and then boiled a pot of water on the fireplace to make tea.

In addition, he would check his left hand every morning when he got up.

My left hand is still the color of gold, with little change compared to yesterday.

However, if you compare it with a month ago, you will find that the gold color has faded a lot.

The gold was no longer so brilliant, no longer so smooth, and the gold on the wrist had completely disappeared. The boundary between the gold skin and the normal skin on the back of the hand had become jagged and uneven.

This doesn't mean Effensor is about to lose the special abilities his golden left hand gives him; on the contrary, it means going even further.

There is probably some kind of gravitational pull between souls, and the fragments of Effensor and Redeny's souls are also like that, gradually merging into one.

Based on the books Effensor read in Kaer Morhen, this was an extremely rare phenomenon.

The human body rejects things that don't belong to it, such as transplanted organs. The same principle applies to the soul; Effensor's soul would strongly reject the fragments of Redeni's soul.

However, as time goes by, the rejection reaction will gradually disappear, and eventually the outsider will integrate into the community.

A similar case is one of possession by a demon.

After the great demon Hernos was slain by three Griffin School witchers, a fragment of his soul escaped into the head of a farmer. The farmer fell seriously ill for three years and eventually merged with the fragment of the demon's soul, becoming one of the most notorious necromancers in history. He also unleashed an unprecedented plague in Ebin in the south.

The good news is that by fusing soul fragments, one can inherit the talents and knowledge of the fragment's owner and retain a complete personality.

The bad news is that fusing soul fragments may cause personality changes due to the absorption of memories.

However, regardless of the circumstances, one thing Effensor knew was that he was powerless to stop it.

Perhaps someone can stop him, but he certainly can't find them.

After the great demon "Hernos," experiments on fusing soul fragments became commonplace across the continent. Countless people attempted to gain talent, knowledge, and power through this "soul grafting" method. Some died from rejection reactions, some went insane, and some were directly possessed. Some succeeded, but their personalities changed drastically; others emerged unscathed, perfectly completing the experiment.

All the experiments have shown a common phenomenon: "Once the fusion with the soul fragments begins, it cannot be stopped or reversed."

After reading through the books for a long time, Effensor also came to his own conclusion.

Strong willpower and a clear understanding of oneself are key.

This is somewhat difficult to measure, because these two factors vary from person to person and from situation to situation.

Effensor, however, did not know the extent of his willpower and self-awareness, nor whether he could maintain his individuality and remain unchanged amidst the vast intertwining of memories and emotions when the fusion was fully completed.

He suddenly remembered something the monitor had said when he met him before.

"Perhaps one day when we meet again, you will inherit everything I have."

The monitor's ambiguous tone still echoed in her ears, and Effensor was quite certain that the guy already knew what was going to happen and was probably quite happy to see Effensor turn into something like Redeny.

You really can't trust anyone or anything with an unknown origin. They might seem trustworthy in some ways, but they could easily scam you elsewhere.

And this might just be the death of you.

However, even with this hidden danger, life must go on.

Effensor was confident in himself; he didn't believe that a mere fragment of a soul could assimilate him and complete a disguised form of possession.

The kettle on the fireplace was humming loudly, and Effensor immediately took it down and poured it into a cup that already contained tea leaves. Before the boiling water could dissolve the tea leaves, he added honey, cinnamon, and sugar.

These things weren't cheap for a Witcher, but Effensor had no choice but to do so to mask the extremely bitter taste of tea in this era. To save money, he only drank one cup a day.

Afterward, Effensor sipped his tea and flipped through a thick notebook, which contained a wealth of research findings from the past few days. He had filled three notebooks with such notes. Now, he turned to the latest page, organizing and recalling his thoughts from the previous day, trying to clear his mind after a night's sleep.

"Kun'en Seal..."

Effensor held a teacup in his right hand, while a yellow magical light shone from his left.

He first began to study the Aard sign, and the first to make a thorough and perfect improvement to the Arden sign, but the first to understand the essence of the signs was the Quen sign.

Of the six seals, Kun is the most special.

Both the improved Yarden Chains by Effinso and the unstable Igni Fireball utilize the "shaping" technique of the Quen Sign, which transforms magic from an intangible thing into a tangible thing, enabling it to affect reality on a physical level.

On the surface, the Sign of Quen is simply a circular barrier formed by gathering a large amount of magical energy.

But when Effensor actually tried to master "shaping" little by little, he suddenly realized the mystery behind it.

Magic could transform at will in his hands, taking on all sorts of shapes. It could be a sharp blade, a small round shield, or a bouquet of flowers.

Although Effensor could only perfectly control a fist-sized ball of magic despite his best efforts, he had already realized the potential of this ability.

In the hands of extremely powerful mages, or even legendary magic source sorcerers, magic power can truly be ever-changing, freely manifesting as physical forms to interfere with reality. The amount of magic power they can control is far beyond what Effensor can even imagine.

Fortunately, Effensor could already see the finish line at a glance. Even though the road ahead was still long, at least he wasn't wandering aimlessly.

The Quen "shield" on Effensor's left hand gradually took shape, transforming into a brownish-yellow magic throwing knife. It then slowly rose from Effensor's hand and, with a thought, instantly flew out and embedded itself in the distant wall.

The magic-powered throwing knife paused for a moment before collapsing and dissipating its magic.

Who says the Sign of Quen has to be a shield?

Quen throwing knives, Quen longswords... the Quen mark in his hands is ever-changing and not confined to a fixed shape.

……

People living in this era, unless there are special circumstances such as marching to war or traveling, simply do not have the concept of breakfast.

Normally, I only eat lunch and dinner. In the morning, I either don't eat anything at all, or I drink some tea or other beverages like Effensor to keep my stomach from being empty.

After practicing magical shaping in the room for a while, Effensor glanced at the fireplace and, estimating that it was almost noon, got dressed, extinguished the fireplace, and went downstairs into the main hall of the castle.

The place was deserted at the moment, except for Vesemir, who was stirring a large pot of radishes and venison.

The snow has been so heavy these past few days that it has buried the training grounds. Ciri's training has been changed to a day off, and the Witcher teachers have had to put down their swords and pick up shovels to clear the snow.

Seeing Effensor walk down the stairs, Vesemir glanced at him and casually said, "Awake?"

"Hmm. It started snowing again last night. It looks like the snow in the yard won't be cleared before the sun comes out."

“That’s true,” Vesemir replied, taking a spoonful of soup and tasting it. “You haven’t seen what it was like almost a hundred years ago. The snow was incredibly heavy then. One morning I woke up to find it pitch black, the windows completely covered by snow. The snow was higher than the rooftops back then…”

"Hmm...it tastes alright." Vesemir put down his spoon and turned to look at Effensor.

"Do you know any reliable sorcerers? I mean female sorcerers, not male sorcerers from Ban Aard."

"Why are you suddenly asking this?" Effinso looked at Vesemir strangely.

"Sigh." Vesemir sighed. "You've seen Ciri's situation, she's...special."

"None of us knew how to help her control that magical power, and none of us knew how to take care of a girl."

“I understand,” Effensor nodded, then continued, “but you shouldn’t have asked me. I think you know who in Kaer Morhen has the best relationship with the sorceress, right?”

"Ha! Of course I know."

Vesemir laughed, then looked at Effinso and said, "Not only that, I also know who has the best relationship with the elves."

"Everyone has their own preferences," Effensor laughed. "And you, who are you closest to?"

"Hmm, about this..." Vesemir stroked his chin.

He didn't answer. His hand, which was stirring the large pot, gradually stopped, and his gaze gradually became fixed, as if his eyes had pierced through the thick stone walls of the castle and gone to a distant place he could never reach.

Sadness, regret, longing... all these have passed, leaving Vesemir with only gray memories.

It wasn't until the sound of a door being pushed open that he was brought back to reality.

Ciri skipped in, bundled up in thick winter clothes, looking like a little bear, her face red from the cold.

"Uncle Vesemir! Do you have any radishes? My snowman is missing a nose!"

She rushed to Vesemir's side and grabbed his sleeve.

The world before Vesemir's eyes came alive again, becoming vibrant and colorful, and those gray memories transformed once more into an unchanging album in his heart.

"I told you to shovel snow, not to build a snowman!"

Although Vesemir said that, he still picked up a radish of moderate thickness and handed it to Ciri.

"Thanks!"

Ciri took the carrot and ran out of the castle like a gust of wind.

She nearly bumped into Geralt, who was carrying a shovel, along the way.

"Be careful..."

Geralt said, but Ciri didn't listen at all. Geralt just smiled and walked over to Affinso and Vesemir.

"We were just talking about you," Effensor said.

"What's wrong?"

"We both believe that we need a teacher who can help Ciri control her abilities. This teacher must be knowledgeable, highly capable, and understand women, especially girls Ciri's age. Also..."

"Stop, stop." Geralt quickly waved his hand, glancing at Effinso and Vesemir, who were also watching him, with a hint of helplessness.

"Just say 'female sorceress'."

"Okay. So I think you already have someone in mind, right?" Effensor said with a meaningful smile. "Like a woman dressed in black and white, smelling of lilac and something else..."

"Well……"

Surprisingly, Geralt didn't nod; instead, he seemed somewhat embarrassed.

Vesemir guessed it at a glance; he had more experience in this area than everyone in the castle combined.

"There will always be rough patches in a relationship." He patted Geralt on the shoulder. "Love is complete only with its ups and downs."

"Hmm." Geralt nodded absentmindedly.

However, he then said, "But we still need to find a teacher for Ciri, I understand. Don't worry, I have another suitable candidate."

"Can I know who it is?" Vesemir asked.

"Of course. Triss Merrigard."

“Not surprising at all,” Effinso interjected. “It’s a shame I wasn’t there when she visited Kaer Morhen last time. I heard quite a few fun things happened… I’m sorry to say that, Geralt.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, a rare occurrence for him, and ignored Effinso, continuing, "I'll visit Vizima in the spring. She's now a royal advisor to Temeria and trusted by Foltest. Perhaps she's sitting at the conference table right now."

"It seems she really didn't die... The first news I heard was that she was among the fourteen sorcerers who died in the Battle of Sodden Mountain, but later someone else said she didn't die." Vesemir nodded thoughtfully.

On the other side, Geralt leaned his shovel against the corner of the wall and plopped down on the bench by the fireplace. Exhausted and hungry after a busy morning, he just wanted to wait for lunch.

Effinso took a piece of jerky, sat down next to Geralt, tore off a large piece for him, and kept only a small portion for himself.

Geralt didn't stand on ceremony, taking the jerky and tearing into it with gusto, not caring at all about the crumbs falling on his beard; he desperately needed something to fill his stomach.

"You've finished your shift. As agreed before, you'll work in the morning and I'll work in the afternoon, so you can rest now."

With a smile, Effensor put a small piece of jerky into his mouth, the faint saltiness spreading in his mouth as the dried fat melted little by little. This was a special snack unique to Kaer Morhen, and only here, with the two hunting masters, Eskar and Vesemir, able to obtain large quantities of game, could they produce so much jerky that it couldn't be stored in the cellar.

"Um."

Geralt mumbled as he chewed, "She built a snowman this morning, so she'll definitely have a snowball fight this afternoon. Keep an eye on her, don't let her run around the castle like before and get stuck in the floorboards."

"That was just an accident," Effensor explained. "Who would have thought that piece of wood was completely rotten? It couldn't even support Ciri's weight."

"Yes, I know, but... anyway, please don't agree to play that hide-and-seek game with her, okay?"

As he spoke, the white wolf looked directly into Effinso's eyes.

Effinso looked completely innocent. After Geralt finished speaking, he neither made any promises, nor offered any verbal acquiescence, nor even nodded. He simply gave a vague reply...

"oh."

Effensor blinked.

Geralt knew at a glance that it was hopeless; Effinso hadn't agreed to anything, leaving only an "oh" that could be interpreted at will.

Oh well, never mind.

At least Ciri seemed to be having a lot of fun.