"Vera, do you really have nothing to tell me?"
Vera stayed silent, lowering her head and watching the dust dance in the sunlight.
Tissaia de Vries let out a soft sigh. "Allen's armor has already been repaired. After I finish enchanting it, it will be delivered next week."
"The cost—"
Tissaia de Vries waved a hand to interrupt her. "The cost has already been included in the commission fee."
Without waiting for Vera's reply, she gently shook her head and stepped into the portal.
"Clang~"
The portal collapsed in the center of the wooden cabin and disappeared.
Vera stared blankly at the spot where the portal vanished, remaining silent for a long time.
-----------------------------------
"You really slept for quite a while this time, Allen!"
Even before Danthe entered, his hearty voice came from outside the room.
"Creak~"
When the wooden door opened, Danthe, Vesemir, and Jerome Moreau entered together. They were the first group of visitors after Francesca Findabair and Mary had left.
After all, it was still early. Most sorcerers, regardless of gender, had the habit of sleeping late.
Witchers, however, were different—their bodies, not their swords, were their greatest weapons. They needed constant honing. If left untrained during quiet periods, they would rust—and during a contract, a moment of dullness might mean death.
Danthe, Vesemir, and Jerome Moreau were all wearing training shirts, the fronts and backs soaked with sweat, clearly just after a round of intense exercise.
"I didn't expect it either. Before I knew it, an entire month had passed…"
Allen let out a bitter smile and instinctively tried to sit up, but pain, weakness, and feebleness spread through every limb and bone.
"You just woke up. Lady Ida said you'll still need some time to recover," Jerome Moreau quickly supported Allen. "But your injuries have mostly healed…"
"Thank you. That sounds like good news." Allen nodded slightly to Jerome Moreau in gratitude.
"Of course it's good news!" Danthe pressed one hand onto the rough wooden table that looked like it had been split straight from an oak tree. His tone was exaggerated: "The long-bearded druids of the Mayena Druids' Circle were stunned when they first saw you. They exclaimed that a witcher's recovery was stronger than a brown bear's."
"I told them not all witchers are this ridiculous, and then I stopped a few old men who wanted to dissect you to study your structure."
"Danthe, don't make our Mayena Druids' Circle sound like the mad sorcerers of the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization," a clear and sweet voice protested from outside. "Aedus, Elwin—they had no ill intent. They were just too shocked."
Red-haired Visenna entered with Korin. Strangely, though it was early morning, both of them were covered in dust, wearing travel-ready leather armor. Korin even had a sword at his waist, as if returning from a long journey.
"It was just exaggeration, just exaggeration." Caught mocking the Mayena Druids' Circle, Danthe wasn't embarrassed at all. He laughed a few times, then strode forward and embraced Korin strongly.
It was obvious that within this one month, Danthe, Korin, and Visenna had become rather good friends.
"Just got back?" Danthe released Korin and asked with curiosity. "Did you find the black dragon?"
Allen, supported against the headboard by Jerome Moreau, immediately perked up his ears.
"Just a false report…" Korin waved helplessly. "The farmer saw a rock shaped like a black dragon. Brugge's dragon-hunting party made a trip for nothing. After all this time, they still haven't found a single trace. There are even rumors that the King of Brugge is planning to dissolve the hunting party."
"Hahaha," Danthe glanced at Allen and burst into laughter, patting Korin on the shoulder. "I've said it—there are no black dragons in this world…"
"Who says otherwise?" Korin shook his head. "Only Brugge even claimed to have seen a black dragon. Armeria only sealed its city for days because of a message from Brugge."
"Reportedly, the king of Sodden (Armeria is Sodden Capital) and the king of Brugge had quite a dispute over this. Temeria already has diplomats on the way to mediate."
"The rumor about dissolving the dragon-hunting party came from this. It's probably true."
Danthe nodded and gave Korin's shoulder another reassuring pat.
At this moment, Visenna had reached the bedside.
"Lady Visenna…" Allen nodded politely in greeting.
Visenna nodded gracefully. Seeing that Ida Emean and Vera had not arrived yet, she simply greeted the others and then sat down, beginning to check Allen's recovery.
Because of this, the others also quieted down.
Allen obediently opened his hand, suddenly recalling the druid from the Francesca Findabair party who had predicted he would be unconscious for more than a month. He couldn't help asking: "Lady Visenna, why was I unconscious for so long?"
"Hm? You don't know?" Visenna looked up in surprise.
"Uh…" Allen froze. "Should I know?"
"Sorry, let me explain it to him," Vesemir spoke, his face slightly red, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Allen only passed the Trial of the Mountains not long ago, and still hasn't undergone a complete Path Trial…"
"No need, I can explain," Visenna glanced meaningfully at Vesemir several more times, then explained to Allen, "The Mayena Druids' Circle—or rather, all Druid Circles—are sanctuaries blessed by the Mother of Nature."
"When natural beings enter the sanctuary, they may be called by the Mother of Nature. Especially the first time, and especially when they are severely injured, unconscious, and mentally fragile…"
Severely injured, unconscious, mentally fragile—wasn't she describing exactly him right now… Allen thought.
But being unconscious for a whole month… he couldn't help asking, "If you're severely injured and unconscious for a month, wouldn't you…"
"Starve to death?" Visenna smiled lightly. "Not everyone sleeps for a month. Generally speaking, most people only experience one day. The longest case I've ever heard of was one week. You are the first in the history of the Mayena Druids' Circle to sleep for a month…"
"As for starving, those who receive the calling are protected by the Mother of Nature. They won't feel hunger, won't suffer hunger, and won't be attacked by beasts…"
"But if they encounter a monster not under Her blessing by accident, their life may still be in danger. If their injuries are too severe and no one treats them, they can still die…"
"Of course, every Druid Circle has druids patrolling. Under normal circumstances, it's safe."
So magical… hearing this, Allen instinctively looked toward Vesemir.
The blush that had just faded from Vesemir's face rose again. He coughed lightly twice and explained: "That is indeed how the natural calling works."
"Normally, during the first year of the Path Trial, when traveling near Druid Circles, a witcher mentor would instruct the novice on these matters, but…"
Vesemir did not finish the sentence.
Under the strange looks of Danthe and Jerome Moreau, Vesemir looked a bit wronged.
Under normal circumstances, yes, it would be like that.
But under normal circumstances, the Path Trial route would also be planned by the witcher mentor…
The key problem was—Allen was not normal!
What kind of witcher, in the first year after passing the Trial of the Mountains, encounters so many things?
A planned route?
Vesemir felt that for the entire past year, he had been dragged along by Allen everywhere—Wild Hunt here, magic source there, an evil god now and then. Talking about route planning was pointless—surviving was hard enough.
And who knew why Vera agreed to Visenna's invitation?
"Hehehe…" Danthe laughed gleefully. "I don't know about other witcher mentors, but Hughes, Bond, and Fred definitely teach these 'basic' supernatural knowledges."
"The Griffin School is the same." Jerome Moreau said expressionlessly, but Vesemir's face grew even redder.
Jerome Moreau looked honest, but he was actually quite wicked… Allen looked at Vesemir's expression and couldn't help finding it funny.
But he didn't tease further. Instead, after thinking for a moment, he asked carefully: "What do people called by nature usually transform into?"
"Usually they take the form of a tree within the Druid Circle, a plant, or some low-intelligence natural creature…" Visenna continued examining him as she spoke, then asked curiously in passing, "Allen, what did you transform into?"
"An oak tree…" Allen kept a calm face, but inside he was shaken.
It wasn't a prophecy!
The natural calling wasn't a prophecy!
No wonder no one found it strange. Only Visenna casually asked about it. Of course—what was there to ask about turning into a tree…
But I didn't transform into anything!
Why?
Why was my natural calling so different?
Was it because of unstable prophetic power? Or because of the Mother of Nature?
-----------------------------------
"Danthe wasn't wrong," after a moment, Visenna finished her examination, gently shook her head, and sighed. "There isn't a single sorcerer who could resist studying a body like yours—even if they're Druids."
"Lady Visenna, the way you say that is making me a little scared," Allen steadied himself and made a small joke.
Visenna lightly shook her head, stood up, and asked with some curiosity, "With a physique like yours, and with the rich experiences even bards praise—Allen, what kind of monster injured you this badly?"
"The Amell Mountains have long been hollowed out by the Mahakam dwarves. We of the Mayena Druid Circle also often have people training there. Normally, there shouldn't be any powerful monsters living in those mountains…"
"Could it be a Black Dragon?" Korin was also interested in this question and cut in, "Something like a gods-slayer killing a giant dragon sounds quite fitting."
Vesemir, Danthe, Jerome Moreau, Allen—every Witcher present tensed their muscles for a brief instant.
Allen quietly glanced at Vesemir at the back.
Vesemir gave a subtle shake of his head, and Allen felt a little more certain inside.
"Black Dragon? What Black Dragon?"
He asked in confused innocence.
Korin briefly explained the situation—the Black Dragon rumors in Brugge, how they were blocked on the old road, and the dragon-slaying notice posted at Brugge's gate…
"How is that possible…" Allen denied it. "If the opponent had truly been a legendary Black Dragon, there's no way I could've survived…"
"As for the gods-slayer title…"
Allen helplessly shook his head, glanced at Vesemir, and explained: "That was just exaggerated rumor. It wasn't a true evil deity—just a monster formed from the fusion of an evil god's descent ritual and a monster nest."
"And at the time, Vesemir was fighting with me. The priestesses of the Temple of Melitele, the warriors of Ellander, and the sorceresses of Aretuza were all holding back large numbers of necrophages…"
"I was simply the one closest to the descent ritual, found the weak point of the evil god's ritual, and landed the finishing blow."
"Really?" Korin was stunned. This seemed quite different from the rumors he'd heard.
"Of course," Allen nodded slightly. "I'm just an ordinary Witcher of the Wolf School who passed the Trial not long ago…"
Cough, cough—
A sudden violent coughing echo interrupted him.
Allen turned toward the sound—Danthe was coughing, face flushed red. Vesemir and Jerome Moreau were wearing strange expressions.
An ordinary Witcher… Allen?
"Sorry, I choked a little," Danthe's face was bright red from holding back.
Visenna and Korin didn't notice the others' reactions, and asked a few concerned questions before returning to the main topic.
"That's still impressive," Visenna said warmly in admiration. "A normal monster nest is already difficult enough to deal with—much less one fused with an evil deity's descent ritual."
"Since the bards sing your name, the priestesses of Melitele, the warriors of Ellander, and the sorceresses of Aretuza must all acknowledge your contribution in driving the evil god away…"
"Yes, yes, exactly," Korin agreed quickly, then impatiently asked for details about driving out the evil god, extended into May Festival in Ellander, then subduing the Royal Griffin…
Korin practically recited every one of Allen's experiences as if he treasured them. He asked more questions than Allen managed to answer.
Only when Francesca Findabair and Ida Emean arrived did he finally stop.
The Mayena Druid Circle might not care about elven identity, but Korin, as a wandering knight of Kaedwen, naturally held hostility toward elves. So he restrained his excitement and stood beside Visenna.
Without Korin's rapid-fire questions, Allen felt a bit of relief—but the wooden cabin quickly fell into an awkward silence.
Fortunately, Mary arrived soon after.
The awkward silence was replaced by another type of awkwardness—sharp, tense, and full of gunpowder.
Francesca Findabair and Margarita Laux-Antille somehow produced wine, teapots, and cups from who-knows-where, competing to pour tea, water, and wine for the cabin's guests as if they were the mistresses of this narrow hut.
The air slowly filled with the scent of elven flower tea mixed with Toussaint's mellow wine.
The atmosphere grew increasingly strange.
Visenna looked thoughtful, Korin gave Allen a thumbs-up, Vesemir and Danthe raised their brows with playful expressions, Jerome Moreau held a cup of wine and tea with a blank face, and Ida Emean rubbed her forehead in exasperation…
Allen's scalp tingled from embarrassment as he stared down at the wood grain on the floorboards.
At that moment, two light footsteps approached.
He instinctively looked up.
A cup of tea and a cup of wine, carrying the mixed scent of orange, chamomile, and cedar, were presented before him.
"Allen, which one do you want to drink?"
Francesca Findabair and Margarita Laux-Antille glared at each other and spoke in unison.
....
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