Chapter 48: Episode 46

Disclaimer: I don't own Nasuverse or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

Words Count: 5822

Here's my usual spiel:

You can read way more than 10 Episodes in advanced plus my other fic: Ars Goetia– Antichrist here.

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

A/N: I'm really sorry for the delays, all I can say is last year of University is hectic as fuck, the essays are all like twenty to thirty pages long, and I even have to go on group-trips to experience the life of a Social Worker. It's a nightmare, coupled with all the dancing and shits, I'm at my wit's end and there's still like seven, eight more months of Uni to go through.

I'm knocking down like four, five cups of coffee in a day to get everything done. Just fucking end me… They even make us go on trips that start at 7… AM, the place was far as fuck so I have to get up at 5-6AM to prepare! Do you know how painful that is to us nocturnal creatures who usually sleep at 2-3AM in the morning? My sleeping schedule's all fucked up.

A/N#2: But, enough complaining from myself. You guys are not here for that, here's the next Ep. Btw, I just had a genius idea, what if somebody(Not me, I'm too busy) writes a Grand Order!Fic with the Master being a no-nonsense man/woman who tears all the delusional Servants new assholes? That's gonna be a blast to read.

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Shiro rolled restlessly in her futon mattress.

The haunted voices of the fallen echoing in her room, resentment and accusation clear in their tones.

Wait, those voices weren’t in her room, they were in her head.

The Tainted Blade had thought they were done with their torments and hurtful condemnations, but she was wrong.

Oh-so very wrong.

Since the disappearance of Leonis, the voices had gotten progressively louder and louder, dominating any and all aspects of her life.

Even through the haze that had fallen over her mind, Shiro could see it. The creature– The monster responsible for the Great Fire snarling at her from the pit of bottomless darkness where it resided.

It looked human, yet distinctively inhuman at the same time with slimy black tar trailing down its empty sockets like tear marks.

Its body twisted and contorted in ways and shapes Shiro doubted any human, even Mages could ever attempt.

Lines upon lines of tattoos glowing an ominous cyan blue stained its tanned, yet oddly pale skin.

Its sunken face and crooked features would turn to her with a gleeful expression, repeating over and over again. “Don’t blame me, blame your friend for breaking our pact, Tainted Sword.”

Every single time, the nightmare would end there without a doubt.

Shiro shot up from her futon, drenched in cold sweats, surrounded by an ashy sky choked by smoke, where giant cogs and wheels turned and churned out what appeared to be blades and knives.

Remnants of broken weapons laid scattered in this World…

Then, she blinked and it was all gone.

She found herself in her room once more.

She looked left and right to find the monster, yet no one was there, no one except herself and the familiar voices of the deceased.

The redhead clenched her fists, feeling the handle of her kitchen knife rest firmly in her palm.

No, it wasn’t hers.

It couldn’t be.

Hers had its handle made out of expensive wood coated with a layer of black, textured plastic.

Not this.

Not tar that felt both rough and slippery at the same time.

Not tar that dripped down her futon, staining her white fabric purplish black.

In a panic, Shiro threw the weapon away.

It scattered into black particles as it hit the wall, ‘A projection’.

She thought to herself, yet the dripping tar was still there.

Evidences of its existence visible to the naked eyes.

Shiro readied to clean up the mess when she felt a presence behind.

She had no time to react as pale, clawed hands burst from the darkness, grabbing at her face and arms.

Left with no other choice, the girl screamed…

She had woken up again, or had she?

Where the creature had grabbed her forearms, now rested a cyan blue tattoo, much like the ones found on its pale flesh.

Was she truly awake?

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

I looked across the room in contemplation. This wasn’t working out…

Every test subject I had subjected through my modified Trials had all but expired, those who didn’t were probably wishing they had. Though I was coming closer and closer to figuring out which parts of the Trials were recklessly targeting the genomes with each test, it still was not enough. It had already been a week, I had three to four more days before Triss and the Mages left Novigrad. After which, I too must leave as well, I was no more afraid of the Temple Guards and the Witch Hunters than I was of the Crones.

Still, it would be a hassle to be hounded by them and Radovid’s men at every corner.

Fuck, I was close. I was so damn close, I could feel it, but I needed more than wild animals to test the modified Trials on, I needed human subjects.

Obviously, I couldn’t just snatch someone off the street, nor did I plan on using the innocent. No, I had a plan and a target ready. Cyprian Wiley and his men had been running loose long enough. Originally, his lackeys should have been killed by Ciri during her escape from Novigrad, while the bastard himself would be put down by Geralt, but since the Witcheress did not seek out his help due to my presence, Geralt wouldn’t meet and kill him either, which in my humble opinions, was all the better.

Death was too quick of a release for Whoreson Junior and his gang of clowns anyway.

Becoming my test subjects would be a much better fitting punishment for them.

Which, was why I was in Cyprian’s hideout. “Stay still, you little shit!”

I sidestepped the overhead swing, legs lashing at the thug’s stomach, causing him to keel over.

It’s a win-win for Novigrad too. I’d get my human test subjects, which should accelerate my research, the criminal underground lost one of its most influential and insane Crime-Lord, and justices would be done for those who had lost their lives to Cyprian’s twisted mind. The only ones to lose would be Whoreson Junior and his gang, but who gave a damn about these lowlifes anyway?

“How’s he so fast?!”

“Fuck! He got Jeff, kill him! Kill him!” I spun, my fist crashing into the other thug’s face, crushing his nose and chipping his teeth. He doubled over, clutching his mouth in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain. I wasted no time, kicking him in the temple, knocking the consciousness out of him. The other thugs, seeing this, tried to escape, which I must say wasn’t a very smart decision on their parts. A shot of [Finn Cannon] blasting the torso out of the farthest one from me. “The whoreson’s a fucking Sorcerer! Fuck!”

In fact, the Temple Guards should be thanking me, I would resolve one of the most problematic factors in their good city, weakening Radovid’s influence in Novigrad and giving them a chance to grab powers back to the Council of Electors. As for whether they could do it before the three other Crime-Lords realized what was happening, that’s none of my business, it would depend entirely on how capable the Council and the Temple Guards were.

“Stand and fight, you morons! He’s a Sorcerer, we won’t be able to outrun his Spells!” I smiled gently as I stepped on the groaning bodies of the thugs, spreading my arms in a taunting gesture. The thugs, faces pale with fear and exhaustion, seemed to have lost all their courage as they took several steps back. I chuckled darkly. “Take the previous guy who tried to run as an example should the thought cross your mind. Tie your friends up and you might, might have a chance at survival… However slim it may be.”

Then again, it’s much more likely that the rest of the Big Four, sensing the power-vacuum from Cyprian’s disappearance, would move their forces into Whoreson’s former territories. I was all for democracy, but you couldn’t deny the voting system Novigrad had was simply inefficient and, if I were to be honest, frankly pathetic compared to what Earth had, and ours was already considered slow.

I meant, remember how long it took for Governments all over the World to close their borders from China during the first few months of the pandemic? If they had been just a bit quicker to respond, less hesitant, the virus-that-shan’t-be-named wouldn’t have spread in such short timeframe.

“Fuck, fuck! Just- Just do what the whoreson fucking wants.” The one who looked like the leader quickly ordered, waving for his men to tie each other up. I was quite happy with his performance, maybe I’d spare his life after all? Pffftt… Unlikely, especially since the jackass was still looking at the gate nervously, waiting for a chance to flee. I pointed at him, a knowing smirk plastered on my lips. “You, check their restraints, then you’ll be coming with me to meet Cyprian. If I return and find any of them gone, you will suffer in their place.”

I looked at the leader, mind clearing of thoughts about the Council and the Big Four. I couldn’t help it, Whoreson Junior’s men had been that much of a bore to fight. They were the kind of people to use intimidation tactics and number to overwhelm their foes, more unhinged schoolyard bullies than fighters. Needless to say, once met with resistance, that tough exterior had taken little to no time at all to crumble.

The leader halted in his track, sweating anxiously as he went to carefully re-check on his men’s restraints. I hummed, impatiently tapping my feet. A cigarette would much appreciated right now. Shame I didn’t have any on me when Kotomine decided to mess with my Star-Gate. I observed silently as the leader let loose a few of his men, before fashioning them into better secure knots. ‘Lowlifes really did try to finesse me.’

I took in the faces of those who had purposefully loosened their restraints. They would be the first to… Grace my operating table. “Are you done?”

The leader hesitantly stepped forwards, stuttering. “Yes- Yes, sir! I’ve made sure none of them can escape easily!”

… Did he just try to lower my expectations? Damn, I didn’t think these thugs would have a grasp on that kind of tactic. Maybe this guy was just more witty than his fellow criminals? “Good. What’s your name? Wait, forget it, I don’t care. Just bring me to Cyprian Wiley.”

“Yes, yes. Please, follow me sir Sorcerer.” He and I jogged towards the house in the distance. The compound where Whoreson stayed at was large, not surprising given the favor Radovid had given him. It hadn’t stopped that rabid dog from selling the Crime-Lord out to Geralt, but I could tell the current Radonian King valued him quite a bit. “Here he is, sir. Whoreson’s likely upstairs playing with some peasant girls, I’ll bring him down if you want…?”

“No need. Let’s see what the bastard’s up to.” I shook my head as we slowly got up the stairs, where scared moans soon entered our ears. Seemed Cyprian was confident in his security measures, that or this medieval house just had excellent soundproofing. I knocked on the door with a smile as the Crime-Lord came barreling outside. “Did I not tell you to not interrupt me when I’m–”

Then he took in my appearance. “… Who the bloody Hell are ya?”

“I’m Leonis, Leonis Magnum. A wandering Mage.” I offered, before landing a kick square in his stomach. Cyprian Wiley flew back, coughing up blood as I entered the room. There were several girls inside, some appeared to have died days ago, their corpses stinking with the scent of rot and decay, those who hadn’t were likely seconds away from dying. Each wore a torn dress stained red with their blood. “Go and untie them, and do be careful. Don’t aggravate their injuries or it’s your hands I’ll break.”

Whoreson groaned, scowling at me as he spat out several teeth. “You barmy little fuck! Do you know who I am?!”

I rolled my eyes. Why did villains always say shits like this? Did they think their identities meant anything to someone who’s clearly here to kill or beat them up? “Yes, yes. I’m aware, Whoreson Junior– Also known as Cyprian Wiley, one of the four Crime-Lords of Novigrad, the dog of Radovid and just overall a real cunt. Did I get anything wrong?”

“How dare you?! My men will– Arrgghhh!” I kicked him in the face as soon as the words escaped his busted, scarred lips. “Usually, I let people like you monologue for a few minutes, just to see how stupid you actually are, but I’m not in the mood right now. So, let me tell you exactly what’s going to happen. First, I’m going to test out a very, very unstable Ritual on you, and it’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt a lot…”

I grabbed at his hair. “Then, when you’re a mutated mess, I’m going to dissect you to see where it went wrong, while you’re screaming, begging for help like the girls you tortured. Understood?”

“Fuck, you fucking Mage-bastard! You think Radovid will let this slide?! You think the Witch Hunters and the Temple Guards will?!” I chuckled. Those guys would be mere inconveniences for me at most, I could tear through them like wet-papers. In fact, the only reason why I hadn’t done so, was because I didn’t want to bring about their attention on the Mages currently living in Novigrad. I’d be fine regardless, but the Mages were mostly healers and potion-makers. They wouldn’t survive the onslaught, and if that were to happen…

Well, I wasn’t going to take the moral high-ground and say I gave a damn about them, but my relationship with Triss and Ciri would suffer, that’s for certain. Once they had successfully escaped Novigrad, that’s when I’d be able to go wild on these Eternal Flame fucks. “That’s for me to worry about, but I can assure you, you won’t be there to see the aftermath.”

I punched him in the jaws, knocking the Crime-Lord unconscious. “Sir… These girls are all gone, she’s the only one left.”

I turned to the thug, next to him was a young woman, who could barely contain her sobs as she tried to cover herself with the remains of her once beautifully-sewn blue dress. She did not appear to have any further injury beside a few bruises and the hole in her palms. Cyprian, or Whoreson had nailed her to the wall with rusty stakes. Those could and would get real nasty if left untreated. “Are- Are you going to kill me? I won’t tell the anyone about this, I swear! Just- Just spare me, I beg of you, have mercy…”

“I’m not going to kill you.” I sighed, pulling out several pouches of coins and offered it to her. “Take these, go to the Vilmerius Hospital and get your wounds treated.”

She stared at the floor, fearful of what she thought I might be planning. I pressed my temples, waving at the thug. “You, come here.”

The moment he approached, I pressed on his hand and fire erupted on the spot to create a sigil. The thug bit down on his lower lip to muffle a scream as he sweated. “This is my sigil–” It’s not, it’s just a symbol I thought was cool-looking. “– It will tell me of your exact location, go down and untie someone you trust and bring him here. Don’t try to run, I’ll hunt you down and make you wish you had died.”

The thug swallowed, nodding rapidly. “Right, I can’t keep calling you ‘you’, so from now on, you’re Alfred. Got it?”

Alfred bobbed his head. “Good, now fuck off.”

I turned my gaze to the sobbing girl, patting her head. How would you go about consoling a rape and abuse victim anyway? “It’s alright, you’re safe now. You can rest assure, Cyprian will pay for his crimes.”

The woman stared at me, before she began to bawl, throwing herself at me. “He- He-…”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to say anymore.” I consoled, putting on my best gentle voice as I took off her coat and swung it over her shoulders. I felt her hands ball up shirt, her tears and snots staining the clean white fabric. I couldn’t relate to her pains, and I doubted I ever would, all I could do was give her a shoulder to cry on and release those pent-up emotions. “He- He’ll pay, right? You’ll make him pay?”

I heard her teeth grind together as sadness and self-pity converted into boundless rage. “He will, you have my words.”

I looked at the unconscious Whoreson and offered. “How about you give him a few kicks? I need him alive for my research, but I do not need him whole.”

“Can- Can I? Can I really?” She seemed excited at the news, head perking up as the anger consumed her mind. I smiled nonchalantly. “Sure, go for it. Long as he’s alive, I couldn’t care less.”

She got out of my embrace the moment she heard that, racing towards her unconscious tormentor and… Stomp on his nuts. How’s he still unconscious? Did I really hit him that hard? “Holy shit, that’s gonna hurt when he wakes up.”

‘I know this isn’t the phrase’s original meaning, but Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn, indeed.’ That would be a problem, I needed working private parts to figure out why the Trials caused infertility… “Fuck it, I have plenty of test subjects anyway.”

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

In the end, Whoreson didn’t wake up. I tied him up and had him thrown in with the rest of his men, kept in the large, empty shed outside. If we counted him, I had a total of thirty-six test subjects to mess around with. Alfred brought several guys up and I gave each a fashionable burn-mark, promising pain and sufferings should they attempt to flee or betray me.

What? I needed them to man Whoreson’s compound and feed the test subjects. It’s a good thing Cyprian didn’t have a hands-on approach to his criminal empire. Nobody would bat an eye if he disappeared for a few weeks straight.

After that’s done, I had Alfred bring the woman, who confessed she had recently become a prostitute to raise her son, to the Hospital. She had come to Whoreson at the promise of coins and riches, only to be tortured by the bastard for an entire day. Still, she was luckier than those before her, having survived just long enough for me to arrive. An hour later and all I’d have found would be her corpse thrown together with the rest of Cyprian’s victims.

You are reading story Fate: Dead Man’s Lament at novel35.com

Right now, I was going back to Triss’ hideout.

The fiery Sorceress’ knowledge wasn’t exactly useful for my Magecraft, but her Spells were rather fascinating to study.

Not to mention, me showing my face there would undoubtedly be more reassuring for her. Since our introduction, Triss had stopped working odd-jobs around the city for her criminal-friends. She hadn’t burnt all bridges per se, but aside from Dijkstra who’s familiar with Triss and would understand, the other two wouldn’t be happy with the change in the status-quo. She had banked everything on me, and that made her… Anxious, which was completely understandable. Even with Ciri backing me, Triss simply had too much to lose.

If this didn’t work out, if I didn’t come through with my promise, her reputation would be forever tarnished in the magical community, never to be recovered again. She had all the rights to be worried, however baseless those worries were.

My hooded coat flapped about as I swept my gaze to assess the crowd. That’s when I saw him– Gaunter O’Dimm, dressed in his iconic merchant outfit, his eyes blazing with Hellish fire and demonic forces. The Devil of the Witcher-Verse waved his hand at me, as if telling me to follow, and follow him I did. The Devil’s silhouette was as elusive as ever, yet I was always able to keep track of him. Or more likely, it was he who allowed me to do so? I chased and chased, to find myself in the middle the Hierarch Square.

It was packed with people, and only now did I realized I had walked right into another of those Eternal Flame rally. There they were, the Temple Guards with their pyres and torches…

Next to them was a woman, bound by chains and tied securely to the pyre they had built for her. I narrowed my eyes as the Guards punched the chained woman in the stomach, even while she begged to be spared, telling them she was just a herbalist trying to make ends meet. The urge to kill these fanatics was growing stronger by the second.

I had never had a good experience with religions, Gods had never helped me as far as I was concerned, and my father’s obsession with scamming priests who were partly responsible for our family’s bankruptcy had only hammered that in. The Eternal Flame was a religion of self-righteous idiots, it entailed and promoted all the worst traits that could be found in religion, and it did so proudly. The holier-than-thou attitude, the subjugation of a group of people whose sole fault was to be different.

It bothered me. “Ridiculous, wouldn’t you agree?”

Gaunter stood on my left, his expression was one of mirth and amusement, yet his tone betrayed the frustration that mirrored my own. The Man of Mirrors, mirroring someone? Who would have guessed? “Leave it to the uneducated, unscrupulous peasants to judge the innocents and there won’t be one left after a week.”

He chuckled. Gaunter O’Dimm was the Devil, and primarily antagonistic in personality, had only ever been shown to harm and torment those who were evil and had given him ‘just causes’. A torturer, a punisher he might be, but an unfeeling, entirely immoral entity he was not. It’s why I made that deal with him in the first place, I knew he wasn’t going to fuck me over, which was more than I could say about other humans. “Indeed... How have you been, Traveler?”

“Same old, you?” I shrugged as the Temple Guards began to set fire to the pyre. Gaunter O’Dimm laughed. “I’ve been well, thanks for asking.”

We silently observed as the herbalist struggled and screamed amidst the shouting and fervent prayers of the fanatics… To a non-sentient fucking fire. “I assume you aren’t here to ask me how I’m doing?”

I sarcastically spoke, hands weaving the [Ansuz] Rune with the Mesopotamian God Enlil in mind. [Mana Manipulation] made drawing invisible Runes practically effortless for me, so draw it I did. I drew it next to the pyre as the hungry flame reached the woman’s dress. [Ansuz] wasn’t limited to fire or lightning, it’s a Rune that embodied its caster’s concept of God. If I had imagined Zeus, it would result in lightning. If it was Hestia, the fire that followed would be a gentle one, befitting of her Domains.

Similarly, since I was thinking of Enlil, the Rune would unleash winds instead, which was exactly what I needed. “You assume right, I’m here to discuss about the Seven Souls you are to retrieve for me. But don’t let me distract you, show these fools their place.”

I smiled, and the invisible Rune burst to life, sending waves of winds scattering the pyre all over. Flames jumped and danced to seek the oxygen they brought, unsympathetic to the fanatics’ plight. The Temple Guards caught on fire, the fanatics had their skin and flesh burnt and charred, while the wailing herbalist seemed completely fine. A wind-blade shot forth, freeing the woman of her restraints. Seeing what was happening, the herbalist wisely took off into the distance.

‘Smart girl.’

What was supposed to be a rally to bring in more followers turned into a disaster as the preachers, the priests and Temple Guards all died one after another from the very thing they worshipped. “There’s your Eternal Flame. You pieces of shit.”

I whispered, a satisfied smile tugging on the corners of my lips.

“What a nice show, Traveler. Geralt would have never done this, regardless of how much he disagrees with them and their ideology.” Turning away from the scene, I  faced Gaunter. “So? Who are these Seven? Where can I find them?”

The Man of Mirrors waved his hand like cheap, street-magician, a piece of paper appearing clutched by his fingers. “The First is Olgierd– The Immortal. You can not dispatch of him, he’s barred from Death. Bring him to the Temple of Lilvani and I shall do the rest. Slay the Toad Prince in the Oxenfurt sewers, and it shall lead you to him.”

He chuckled, waving and the paper suddenly turned into a tarot card, which he threw at me. “The second is Henryk– The Mighty. He whose strength none can ever hope to match. Your speed will be advantageous against him, kill the him and send his soul to me. He’s currently roaming White Orchard wilderness with what remains of the defected Temerian forces.”

A second tarot card materialized under the first. Olgierd’s was the Trickster, while Henryk’s the Fool. “Third, Freya– The Mother. She was a Skelligan shield-maiden once upon a time. Until she gave birth to a pair of horrifically disfigured, stillbirth twins. She has hidden deep inside the swamp of Fyke Isle alongside her… Children. Find them, put them out of their misery.”

I raised my eyebrow questioningly as he stopped, hands retreating behind his back. “This is only three… What of the other four Souls?”

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Traveler.” Gaunter smirked, backing away as he seemingly faded into another dimension. His voice almost dreamy. “Until we meet again, Leonis Magnum. There is no time limit, hunt them down at your convenience.”

Then, he was gone. I looked at the panicking, rapidly dispersing crowds and muttered to myself. “Mysterious prick…”

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

They said time was the inevitable enemy, who waited for no one.

They were right.

In a blink, the promised day was near.

According to Triss, the Mages and prosecuted herbalists had all finished with their preparations.

They could leave the moment I said I was ready.

But, despite having more than enough Mana to project those ships, I decided to wait instead.

The modified Trials were ready. I had had to weaken them to the point so much they could only… Soften my genomes, make them more malleable rather than the complete destruction the first iterations of the Witcher Trials would cause.

My goal was no longer to replace the existing genomes with those of monsters and magical creatures, but create a second pair DNA strands that would fuse with my own to create quadruple helix DNA Sequence. It was the perfect idea, it would limit the mutations, keep my base human and best of all, this meant I’d have far more slots to put mutagens in, even more than what an enhanced Witcher like Geralt did.

For those who didn’t know, Geralt of Rivia was the greatest mutant ever created by those Trials. He was faster, stronger and more resilient than any Witcher before him, having taken the Trial of Grass’ potion twice in order to finish his transformation. That’s the explanation for his iconic ashen-white hair.

He was the perfect killing-machine, a monster in his own right, one who had taken apart an army of other mutants in the first installment of the franchise.

With the modified Trials and the Elder Blood, I’d surpass him, and I’d do so today. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Triss asked worriedly as she went over my research and documents.

“Don’t worry, I’ve tested the new Trials extensively on Whoreson’s men. It will work, I assure you.” The fiery Sorceress rubbed her eyes, glancing at Ciri– Her surrogate little sister, who had been keeping silent for a while now. The Witcheress crossed her arms, sighing as she fiddled with the Dimeritium-coated shackles. “He’ll be fine, Triss. Ultimately, it’s Leonis’ decision. We can only support him and hope for the best.”

The Sorceress groaned. “But why does he have to do this now? Can’t he wait? Can’t you wait until the Mages are safe and sound on the ships, Leonis?”

I laughed, slapping the shackles onto my wrists and ankles. These should hopefully keep me in place while the Trial did its thing. “Don’t worry, the ships are already here. I’ve hidden them near the entrance of an underwater cave. There are Runes carved into the vessels, which once activated, will help them float to the top and expel all the excess water.”

I winked at her, lying neatly on the metal table. “There’s also a Bounded Field that keeps non-magicals from noticing them. Take the map I hide under my desk, it will point you guys right to their location in case something does happen to me. Though, let’s hope you won’t have to put it to use, aye? I do still want to enjoy and bask in your presences a little while longer.”

Triss approached, jabbing my arms with syringes connected to tubes of toxic, radioactive green liquids. She didn’t even try to ease them in! My heart, it hurt. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

“Pffftt… You might as well kill me if you want me to stop.” The Sorceress rolled her eyes, putting more and more syringes into my body. Ciri went to check on the shackles again, once they were done with their respective jobs, Triss stared at my face, palms glowing with fiery lights. “Are you ready, Leonis?”

No, no I wasn’t. I was getting very, very anxious. It’s this uncomfortable feeling of weight and fears, as if I was going into an exam blind. It’s not something I was unfamiliar with, but the sheer intensity of it was hundreds-folds worse than anything prior. Still, I couldn’t tell them that, so instead I put on my best, confident smile. Even I was aware of how insincere and fake it was as my lips twitched and crooked. “I’m always ready, gorgeous. You can do it–!”

Electricity shot through me as the toxic liquids began to be pumped into my body.

I twisted and turned on the operating table. Its metallic feel which was beyond cold against my skin previously now felt not enough. In seconds, I went from perfectly healthy to having a fever so high I could practically see my brain being boiled in my skull. The muscles underneath my fleshy exterior seemed like they were being taken apart and reshaped, bones and joints shifting like they were being munched on by millions of insects.

I lurched forwards, back arched as blood spewed from my mouth in litters like a garden hose.

The shackles digging into my flesh as I strained and struggle to get free. When that failed, I tried to call upon my Mana instead, only to receive a muted, sluggish response as the Dimeritium suppressed it. My lips cracked open on instincts to let out several curses that would have made sailors blush in shame, yet all that would come out was a gargled mess as I began to choke on my own blood. The vial which contained the DNA Sequence of the Elder Blood was injected, allowing me a moment of respite.

But that’s all it was, a moment. Abrupt and short as the pain grew in intensity.

Elder Blood was a powerful, adaptable substance. It possessed a kind of semi-sentience often seen in micro-organisms, a sort of instinct to save itself, and subsequently, its host. That’s how I was able to convince Ciri to give me more of her blood, rather than risking our relationship by stealing them like a creep under the curtain of the night.

I was banking entirely on its adaptability to take hold inside my DNA and fought the resulting destruction caused by the Trials. It would keep my natural DNA helix safe, while the new one was being created and linked. What I hadn’t thought about was the response would be this intense. ‘I- Arrgghhh- It’s fine! I just have to endure, there- there’s a 91% chance of the Trial being successful, I’ll be fi—?!’

As though sensing my thoughts, the toxic liquids coursing through my veins bulged, causing my skin to crack and glow with tortoise green hue. I heard Ciri mutter. “Is, is that supposed to happen?”

Triss didn’t respond, opting to use her Spells to alleviate my pain. I didn’t understand why. She and I both knew once the process started, no outside interference would be able to affect the Trial, not in a positive ways at least. Perhaps she was simply trying to lessen the guilt? “I do not know, we can only pray he will get through this.”

I shut my eyes, attempting to let the transformation take rather than fight it. Deep inside me, the Elder Blood slithered its way into my Mana. The mystical Energy, which was a brilliant blue turned whitish green the second they made contact. It’s an odd feeling, not quite painful, just weird. Still, there’s something almost unbearable to see the core of my person being twisted, but fighting the changes would not do me any favor. Thus, in spite of my best judgement, I gently guided the manifestation of the legendary Elder Blood to take root.

Yet, that wasn’t enough. The mere vials of Ciri’s blood could not hope to complete the changes. “– Going on with him?”

“– Know! Your blood, he needs more–”

“– Will it work?”

“– I don’t know, but it should–”

“– Hook me up with the blood transfusion, Triss!”

I blinked blearily.

Sweats covered my form as though I had just taken a shower.

It did little to lower my temperature.

“– He has stabilized– Have to wait… I’ll put up a barrier to–”

I closed my eyes, immersing in the Elder Blood. Beside it were several other… Taints. Monsters’ mutagens, I realized.

I grabbed at my Mana, a swirling mixture of royal blue and tortoise green, then decided to whisk them up to create a beautiful cyan. The flecks of mutagens, small, nigh unnoticeable did not manage to fuse with the two energies, but I could tell they weren’t rejected either. Rather, they stayed obediently inside the swirl.

* DING

* DING

* DING

[Game Ver.a3.2]

Name: Leonis Magnum

Title: A Queen's Object Of Affection

Age: 8/21

Race: Human

Level: 14 (20.3%)

HP: 24% – MP: 100%

STR: Unranked – 79.1 > 85.1/100

AGI: Unranked – 81.1 > 92.1/100

DEX: Unranked – 71.1 > 88.1/100

VIT: Unranked – 100/100

INT: Unranked – 67.1 > 100/100

CHA: Unranked – 95.1 > 97.1/100

Points: 64.1

[—]

[Skill Gained: Temporal-Spatial Manipulation – Rookie Lv: 1/10]

A Skill gained from the infusing of the Legendary Elder Blood. One of the most coveted Bloodline in the Witcher. This can be an amazing Gift, yet it can also be a horrifying Curse. On a side note, you now have a bunch of homicidal Snow Elves after your seeds, which is nice! Or is it?

[Limit Reached: INT]

[Trait Gained: Mana Burst – Rank: F]

Mana Burst is the increase in performance caused by infusing one's weapons and body with Magical Energy and instantly expelling it. Simply put, recreating the effect of a jet burst by expending large amounts of Magical Energy. At its current Rank, it can increase the power of your strikes up to 30%. Aren’t you lucky?

“W- Worth- Worth it…” I croaked and slumped, feeling my consciousness slowly going dark. “Leonis! Are you alright?!”

The last thing in my vision were strands of white hair, not Ciri’s. Mine.

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