"This is the last vague message sent back by that twelve-man knight squad, and some conjectures about the Vampire Bird from two other court mages, though most of them were proven wrong."
Triss buried herself in her collection of books and the spell tomes she had brought, fully dedicated to finding precise information about the rare and dangerous monster known as the Vampire Bird.
"Typical Vampire Birds are extremely agile, with sharp claws and teeth that carry a paralyzing toxin. They can emit an ear-piercing shriek, powerful enough to stun or even kill ordinary people."
Triss explained to Carl while flipping through a thick ancient tome.
"They fear fire and detest the smell of black vinegar and garlic, but these things can only barely drive them away, not kill them."
"Only silver, especially silver-plated or pure silver weapons, can effectively harm them."
"A magical dust produced by a bomb called Moon Dust… this dust allows their exact whereabouts to be confirmed even when they are invisible."
"Hmm, the formula for this alchemical bomb is in the hands of Witchers, but I can try to see if I can make it."
And Triss's most important task was to try and master those two lost Alzur spells.
The incantation for Alzur's Thunder was extremely complex and convoluted, containing vast and violent magical power.
Triss only attempted to recite the shortest syllable of the incantation.
That ancient word from the Elder Speech felt as if it carried substantial weight and the power of thunder.
As she barely managed to utter a distorted syllable, she felt a terrible surge of magic violently backlash against her.
"Ugh!" She painfully clutched her throat, coughing violently, her face instantly turning pale, and a trace of blood foam even spilling from the corner of her mouth… For the next few days, her throat felt as if it had been seared by a branding iron, completely unable to make a sound.
Her entire body's muscles and meridians also periodically experienced needle-like stinging pain, a typical symptom of improper casting and magical backlash.
Carl was heartbroken by Triss's injury from studying the spell, and he meticulously cared for her, feeding her soothing herbal concoctions and applying cold compresses to her forehead, staying by her side day and night.
Once Triss's injuries had slightly eased and she could speak in a low voice,
she shook her head at Carl with lingering fear and wrote on paper: "No… Alzur's Thunder is too high a power level, and its incantation structure is perfect and demanding."
"Any tiny error in tone or magical flow will lead to catastrophic backlash."
"With my current abilities, I simply cannot control it."
Her eyes held unwillingness, but also a hint of reverence for Alzur, who created the spell.
Thus, Triss could only devote all her energy to the relatively milder Alzur's Shield.
Although the incantation for Alzur's Shield was also ancient and complex,
its magical flow focused more on protection and stability, with a much lower risk of backlash compared to the destructive Alzur's Thunder.
It was then that Triss demonstrated her outstanding talent in magic.
She no longer tried to force the incantation but instead thoroughly analyzed the magical meaning of each character first, simulating its energy circuits.
After several days of working tirelessly, she was finally able to attempt to cast it for the first time.
She did not cast it on Carl but cautiously chose a small white mouse in the laboratory, used for magical experiments, as her target.
She held her breath, precisely intoning the short incantation, while simultaneously gesturing with her hands, outlining complex sigils.
In an instant, a layer of circular energy shield, imperceptible to the naked eye but impregnable to magical perception, instantly enveloped the bewildered little white mouse.
The shield lasted for a full ten seconds before slowly dissipating.
During this time, Triss tried to shoot fireballs at the shield; some fireballs bounced back.
However, some fireballs silently annihilated after a violent impact, and the shield remained motionless… "Hoo, I finally succeeded!" A flush of excitement finally appeared on Triss's pale face.
Although this casting almost drained a small portion of her magic, it proved that this path was feasible.
She began to practice continuously, shortening the incantation time, reducing magic consumption, and enhancing the spell's power.
She worked hard to transform this long-lost protective spell into a reliable combat method.
Just as Triss was diligently studying Alzur's Shield, and Carl was basking in the sun on a lounge chair while reading a book about Vampire Bird intelligence,
an unexpected person quietly arrived at the city gates of Vizima.
He rode a docile pack horse named "Roach."
The newcomer wore dusty leather armor, with a longsword on his back, and another sword placed in a side leather pouch on his horse.
His hair was an unusual ashen white, tied back with a leather thong, and his face was etched with the marks of wind and frost and faint scars.
Most striking were his amber, cat-like vertical pupils.
He was the not-yet-famous Witcher, Geralt.
He ignored the mixed gazes of curiosity, fear, and disdain, and the whispers of 'freak' and 'mutant' from the surrounding citizens.
He went straight to the bulletin board at the city gate, his sharp gaze sweeping over the notices seeking help or posting bounties.
His appearance was like a stone dropped into a calm pond; the news quickly spread through the ranks, eventually reaching Foltest's ears.
"A Witcher? Finally, one has arrived?" Foltest was somewhat surprised but did not appear overly excited.
Compared to the shock and hope brought by witnessing Carl's superhuman strength,
a late-arriving Witcher no longer seemed to be the only option.
But he still attached importance to it, sending someone to invite Geralt into the royal palace, and at the same time, he also sent someone else to invite Carl… Thus, in Foltest's council chamber, a slightly peculiar meeting began.
On one side was the expressionless Witcher, Geralt, exuding a cold aura.
On the other side was the tall, inwardly composed young knight, Carl, whose presence nonetheless contained explosive power.
Foltest sat on the throne, his gaze sweeping between the two men.
"Lambert, you are a bit late, but I still welcome you." Foltest said, then pointed to Carl.
As for why Foltest called Geralt 'Lambert,' it was naturally because Geralt used an alias.
Before determining whether a matter would turn out good or bad, Geralt would choose to use the name Lambert.
When things turned out for the better, he would use his real name, and vice versa.
"This is Carl, the champion of the Martial Arts Tournament not long ago. He will be responsible for handling Adda… that matter."
Geralt's amber pupils turned to Carl, calmly scrutinizing him.
He could not detect any trace of magic from this young man, because the medallion on his neck did not tremble.
Nor did the other party have the unique mutations of a Witcher; he looked like an exceptionally strong human.
Foltest seemed to want to emphasize Carl's reliability, adding, "Don't underestimate him, Witcher."
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