"Vilgefortz has been waiting for me for a long time?"
The Witcher paused for a moment, slightly surprised. Before he could speak, Lydia van Bredevoort stepped aside gracefully, revealing the corridor ahead.
"Please, follow me."
Allen glanced around — quite a few pedestrians and shopkeepers were watching them.
This wasn't the place for conversation.
Suppressing his curiosity, he tied the black horse he'd just purchased to a nearby fence and followed Lydia van Bredevoort into the gallery.
"Bang~"
The wooden door closed softly, cutting off the noise of the bustling city outside.
A long hallway stretched ahead. White marble tiles lined the floor; one side of the wall was bare, while the other was covered in oil paintings.
Elegant chandeliers woven from vines hung from the ceiling, their candlelight flickering gently.
Because the chandeliers were only placed on the wall with the paintings, the entire corridor was somewhat dim.
Combined with the faint scent of incense lingering in the air, even a restless heart would gradually grow calm.
Lydia van Bredevoort elegantly conjured a small flame between her thumb and forefinger, lighting the nearby candle. Holding the candelabrum, she led the way.
Allen noticed that her hands and clothes bore none of the usual traces of paint, so he asked,"Is Vilgefortz here too?"
Lydia gently shook her head. "Vigo is still at the Academy, but you'll see him soon."
Allen nodded and didn't ask further.
He truly wondered how Vilgefortz had known of his arrival without any prior notice…But that question could wait until they met in person.
From what he'd read and observed during their brief time together at Kaer Morhen, Lydia van Bredevoort was unlike most sorceresses from Aretuza.
She showed no interest in power, wealth, or any worldly desire. Apart from her art, she had no personal will or political inclination — merely a devoted subordinate and servant to Vilgefortz, a tool molded to obey his command.
Following her, Allen passed through several corridors and descended into the underground level.
The path was long. As he walked by the faint glow of Lydia's candelight, he summoned his Witcher Journal.
-----------------------------------
[Quest: The World's Revival]
Type: Main Quest (First Phase)
Description:
Primary Objective: Complete three first-stage conjunction of the spheres. (Mandatory)
Secondary Objective: Eliminate all monsters that crossed over from foreign realms. (The more you kill, the greater the quality and quantity of rewards.)
Progress:
Primary – Stage One Fusions: 3/3 (Complete)
Secondary – Drowner King 2/2, Bog Nymph 2/2, Drowners 124/243, Corpse King 3/3, Corpse Queen 3/3, Ghouls 326/326, Rotfiends 377/377, Carrion Lord 7/7
Note:You are the path the dying world has found. It yearns to return to its former glory.]
"Ding! Main Quest: The World's Revival (First Phase) completed. Accept reward?"
Just as Allen expected — after the second and third fusions, all monsters had been wiped out.
Only the first "conjunction of the sphere – Drowners" still had about a hundred remaining. But since others could easily handle that, he didn't intend to wait any longer for a mere hundred Drowners.
With a thought—
[Ding! Main Quest: The World's Revival (First Phase) Completed. Accept reward?]
[Reward:Domain of Souls (Initial), Experience Orbs ×280]
[Ding! Fuse "Domain of Souls (Initial)"?]
[Ding! Main Quest: The World's Revival (Second Phase) activated. Accept?]
"Domain of Souls?" Allen frowned slightly at the new term.
He tried focusing on it, but there was no detailed description.
Glancing at Lydia walking ahead, her candle casting long shadows, he decided not to activate it here — just in case it caused some kind of anomaly.
He then accepted the second phase of the main quest.
-----------------------------------
[Quest: The World's Revival]
Type: Main Quest (Second Phase)
Description:
Primary Objective: Perform one second-stage conjunction of the sphere. (Mandatory)
Secondary Objective: Eliminate all invading monsters from the foreign realms. (More kills, better rewards.)
Note:You are the path the dying world has found. It yearns to return to its former glory. ]
-----------------------------------
Currently, the closest progress was [Hunting Contract: Drowners III (Kill 178/500)], still short by over three hundred kills — nothing urgent for now.
He closed the Witcher Journal and continued following Lydia.
"Tap, tap, tap~"
Their footsteps echoed through the cold corridor.
Lydia's white gown rustled softly as she walked, making her resemble a spirit — like a Noonwraith born from a bride slain before her wedding.
Of course, Lydia was far more beautiful than any cursed wraith.
Still, Allen remembered her tragic fate: in the original timeline, after Vilgefortz recommended her for an experiment studying ancient burial artifacts, she touched a cursed relic — it disfigured her face and throat, burned her severely, and robbed her of speech.
She would communicate only through telepathy, until finally being abandoned by Vilgefortz and dying during the coup on Thanedd Island.
A fate not much kinder than that of a wraith's origin.
"We're almost there…"
Her gentle voice drew Allen back from his thoughts.
He looked at the smiling sorceress holding the candle and gave a polite nod.
She wasn't Vesemir, nor Mary, nor Ciri. He had no intention of meddling with her destiny.
Creak~
A door opened — the room beyond was completely dark.
Allen didn't worry about betrayal; Vilgefortz and Lydia wouldn't risk breaking their pact with Ban Ard so brazenly.
So he stepped in first.
Snap!
Behind him, Lydia flicked her fingers, and several violet magic lamps lit up, illuminating a massive mirror in the center of the room.
The chamber was otherwise empty — nothing but that mirror.
Lydia adjusted a few runes, and with a faint hum, Vilgefortz's image appeared at the mirror's core.
"Vigo, Master Allen has arrived…"
Vilgefortz smiled warmly, nodding slightly. "Please wait a moment. I'll be right there."
Before Allen could respond, the image flickered and vanished.
Moments later, with a deep rumble, an orange-red portal opened beyond the mirror.
A man in a pitch-black robe stepped out — Vilgefortz himself.
"It's been a while, Allen."
His face bore that same calm, reassuring smile — so constant it looked carved into a mask.
"Not that long," Allen replied flatly. "Barely a week or two."
Vilgefortz's smile didn't waver. "For me, that's already quite some time…"
After a brief but polite exchange, the two got straight to business.
"Have you located where Hen Gedymdeith is being held?" Allen asked.
"Roughly," Vilgefortz nodded. "Sunny has taken full control of Ban Ard through the Ortolan and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization.
Hen Gedymdeith no longer holds the same importance to him — the reconstruction of Ban Ard and the founding of the Sorcerers' Kingdom demand countless male mages."
"Security has loosened. Clues are surfacing day by day."
"I've already narrowed down the general location, though the exact defenses and traps remain unknown."
"If you give me another week, I could uncover everything beyond expectation — but…"
He paused, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"I suppose you won't grant me that week, will you?"
Allen was silent for a few seconds before finally asking,"How did you know I would come? You even had Lady Lydia waiting for me here… Was it the prophecy of the Source?"
"It wasn't prophecy," Vilgefortz said, the corners of his mouth lifting with genuine delight and a touch of pride. "It was a guess."
"A guess…" Allen frowned slightly at the word.
Unlike prophecy, a guess required a basis.
But he had gone straight from Kaer Morhen to the forests of Passolon, then ridden non-stop to the outer edge of the battlefield between the Free Elves and Ban Ard.
Even the Wild Hunt and the male mages hadn't been able to track him — so what could Vilgefortz have possibly based his 'guess' on?
Vilgefortz narrowed his eyes and smiled.
"When Sunny and Ortolan heard that the Wild Hunt had descended, they immediately gathered every top sorcerer from Ban Ard and Rissberg Group. I realized then it was a rare opportunity to extract every scrap of information."
"At that moment, though, I felt a hint of regret…"
"Simply using this opportunity to locate where Hen Gedymdeith is imprisoned would be such a waste."
"If we had enough power, we could seize this chance to rescue him outright."
"And it was then that I thought of you."
"Why," he said softly, his eyes gleaming, "should I mistake the reflection on the water for the stars in the night sky?"
His gaze locked onto Allen's, shining with fervor — as if he were beholding some priceless treasure.
"You are the Child of Miracles. And a Child of Miracles should appear at the most fitting moment… to save the world."
Allen's lips twitched wordlessly.
That wasn't a guess — that was blind luck.
Like a blind cat stumbling onto a dead mouse.
"This isn't blind luck," Vilgefortz continued cheerfully, as though reading Allen's thoughts. "The Northern Continent hasn't seen a Conjunction of the Spheres for fifteen hundred years — yet the first time you descended the mountain, you encountered one, and helped end the reign of an ungrateful mortal king."
"The Wild Hunt had always been nothing more than myth, and yet their first true appearance — at Flotsam — was right before your eyes, bringing slaughter to the world."
"The wraith sealed by Falka's legacy had lain silent for thirty years, until you happened to be in Ellander for the May Festival… and the Hunt's bombardment awakened it."
"And then, there was the Evil God — discovered by none other than you."
"Even surrounded by the Ellander army, the Aretuza sorceresses, and the priestesses of Melitele, it was still you who dealt the final blow."
"At least," Allen said dryly, "I wasn't there when the Wild Hunt destroyed Ban Ard."
"Weren't you?" Vilgefortz asked meaningfully. Before Allen could respond, the sorcerer lifted a hand to silence him, his eyes burning brighter.
"There's no need to explain. I know none of it was your doing."
"But still—"
"But still!"
"When the rest of the Northern Continent is at peace, when the people dance and sing in harmony — it is always you who appears amid chaos, at every grand event, in every crisis… appearing at the precise moment to turn the tide."
"If that isn't fate's design, then what is it?"
"So, when I realized this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to rescue Hen Gedymdeith, I had a powerful feeling—"
"You would come."
"And clearly," Vilgefortz smiled, spreading his hands, "I was right."
Allen had nothing to say to that.
Other than the apprentice dueling tournament between the Wolf School and the Cat School—where the Conjunction of the Spheres truly was connected to him—everything else he happened to stumble into was just coincidence.
Still, as he listened, even he almost started to believe it himself.
Yeah…
When everywhere else was peaceful and joyful, yet he alone kept showing up wherever chaos struck—like some cursed death god from a children's tale—who wouldn't grow suspicious?
Allen frowned again.
Vilgefortz's line of reasoning was, in truth, reverse deduction.
Back when he was still in Kaer Morhen, Allen had asked Vilgefortz how he saw through his identity as the "Child of Miracle."
Vilgefortz had claimed it was thanks to an ancient elven tracing spell called "Ithlinne's Star Phantoms."
He had first sensed something unique about Allen, then investigated his background and deeds in detail—only afterward had he become certain Allen was indeed the one foretold by Ithlinne's Prophecy.
Normally, anyone who hadn't fought Allen directly or possessed a similar mystical technique would find it hard to connect him to the "Child of Miracle" from the prophecy.
But this world had never lacked for clever people.
Once someone grows curious about another, they instinctively start digging—gathering every scrap of information they can. And Allen's deeds didn't stand up well to scrutiny.
Could it be… aside from Vilgefortz, there were already others secretly casting malicious eyes toward him—while he remained completely unaware?
"Then, Child of Miracle," Vilgefortz's voice broke through his thoughts, "shall we depart now to rescue Hen Gedymdeith?"
Allen almost nodded on reflex, but after a moment's thought, he slowly shook his head.
"Prepare me a sealed chamber," he said quietly. "I still have some preparations to make…"
...
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