Six days had passed since Geralt and I left the region of Dol Blathanna behind.
By the end of our second day of travel, the valley of flowers had became a memory of white roads, black trees, and distant mountains swallowed by winter haze. By the sixth day, the reality of the road beneath us and the cold that refused to let up.
The for journey Geralt and I had been quiet for the most part. Not in a awkward or hostile way. Just quiet which I expected from the Witcher. Which was fine with me.
I still made it a point not to speak more than necessary. Not because I was afraid of Geralt. If anything, traveling with him had made me feel safer considering how dangerous this world is. But the less I said, the less chance I had of saying the wrong thing. Or slipping up and revealing something that no six-year-old, half-elf child from the Continent should know.
So I listened and when I did ask questions, I kept them simple like. "How long until we reach the keep?"
Geralt had answered that on the second day without looking at me. "Seven to fourteen days. Depends on weather. We shouldn't have problems with bandits as much, but there are always a few desperate bunch. Same thing with monsters."
That made a lot of sense, but it only went to confirm what Cain thought.
Winter travel on the Continent was slow, brutal, and uncertain. Even with a Witcher guiding the way, snow could make simple roads disappear, ice could turn a decent path into a death trap, and one bad storm could stall everything.
We slept where we could sometimes in shallow caves, sometimes under rocky overhangs, sometimes beside the road if the windbreak from the trees was good enough and Geralt judged the area safe enough to risk a fire.
Those nights were the worst and the best of it at the same time. The worst because the cold always found a way through. The best because those were the moments when the world grew simplest. Fire. Food. Shelter. Keep watch. Sleep. Survive until morning. There was a sense of peacefulness in it.
We didn't come across many people which made sense. Even before transmigrating here, I knew enough about medieval trade and winter travel to understand that most merchants wouldn't risk the road unless the profit was worth the danger. In a setting like the Witcher's, that logic only got harsher.
Bandits, monsters, frost, starving wolves, broken axles, sickness, political borders winter multiplied every risk. Unless someone was desperate, foolish, or very well protected, they stayed put until the weather improved.
Monsters were sparse too, though not absent. Geralt had explained that on the third day while we were moving through a frozen stretch of forest road.
"Some monsters slow down in winter," he said. " Mostly cold-blooded ones. Others hibernate, in a way. Since there is less food for them to eat around. They lessen their movements to not waste energy and bunker down until they can hunt again
I glanced up at him from where I sat in front of him on the saddle. "So we're safer?"
He snorted softly. "No. Just slightly less unlucky. Remember out here anything can happen. Bandits. A stray monster that's injured or that hasn't found a place to sleep off the winter. A pack of wolves dispersing to another territory. Winter just started so there's no guarantee for safer travel just a different."
That sounded about right.
Then he added, after a beat, " Since winter just started there might still be a few stragglers. So pay attention to sounds and smells. Rotten or sweet scents gives alot away before you ever see anything."
"I understand. If I notice anything strange I will say something."
Geralt didn't respond as he just steered the horse.
While I kept thinking to myself how, any monster we met out here would be a threat to me. Without the system forcing me to go with Geralt, I would facing death without any sort of protection in a body I still wasn't use to using.
That alone kept me alert so when absolutely necessary, I would summon the Hunter's Edge Knife from my inventory beneath the blanket or cloak without Geralt seeing it too clearly. I didn't want to explain the knife or anything to do with the system.
If I did they would probably consider me insane, and if I proof what I can do with it. I would probably put a giant target on my back. Especially with Sorcerers and Sorceresses. I know if they found out about me and got their hands on me I can kiss a normal life goodbye.
Not that my new life here was going to be normal to begin with.
Which was why, over those first six days, I spent nearly every quiet hour I could exploring the system window. I needed to understand how it worked and what it could do.
At first I had expected something closer to the RPGs from my past life, menus with numbers, health bars, stamina bars, clear skill trees, class options spelled out from the beginning.
But instead, what I had was basic. Too basic. The system was useful, but it felt incomplete. That last part stood out most, like all of it's features wasn't completely unlocked for me to use.
I had a instinctual feeling that more features would open in stages as I grew stronger, or met certain conditions. Considering the sealed bloodline trait, I couldn't exactly dismiss that idea. It fit my growing theory almost too well.
Whoever or whatever was behind this system wasn't just dumping power on me randomly. It was controlling the pace at which I grew. It's still to early for me to figure what it's plans for me are.
And that thought still bothered me a lot. But so far I didn't have a better explanation, and it's not like I have many other choices. At least the inventory is proofing to be useful.
I started testing how much I can carry and the conditions of the inventory.
It started of small: branches, stones, chunks of ice, and handfuls of snow. Then larger rocks. Bundles of dead twigs. Then water scooped into a wooden cup and placed into the inventory before I poured it out again.
The storage seemed absurdly generous and maybe endless. I hadn't hit a limit yet, though I was smart enough not to push too far in front of Geralt.
Every item I put in came with a brief description when I focused on it. Most were simple.
Branch: dead pine branch, dry enough to burn.
Stone: common roadside stone, uneven weight and poor throwing balance.
Snow: frozen precipitation, clean enough to melt for water.
It was useful. I would have to test it with things like. Meats and other organic materials. If my theory is correct it will tell me when something might be rotten or poisoned. Which is always very useful. Witcher's have a enhanced resistant's to poison but not all poisons.
Then when it came to my attributes, they were straightforward enough once I stopped expecting the system to explain everything unprompted. I knew how they worked on a fundamental level based of my experience with video games in my past life.
Strength: Was raw physical power. Muscle output and melee force. It affected how hard I could hit, lift, push, pull, and by extension likely how much damage I could do in close combat.
Dexterity: Is tied to my reflexes, coordination, reaction speed, bodily control, and precision. It also affected the chance of successfully landing especially effective "critical" attacks.
Constitution: Is my overall toughness. Durability. Endurance. Stamina. If I had to compare it to old game logic, it's determined my HP and physical resilience.
Intelligence: Covered memory, reasoning, my learning speed, retention, and the ability to process information. In other RPG systems it often affected magic too, but since I had no magical ability unlocked yet, I had no way of confirming whether that applied here.
Wisdom: Was for intuition, awareness, practical judgment, perception, and a form of mental steadiness. It's tied to noticing hidden details, resisting mental influence, and making sense of danger before it fully revealed itself.
Charisma: Is exactly what it sounded like, persuasion, social influence, deception, leadership, presence, and bartering.
Luck: Increases critical hit rates, improves item drop rates and quality, boosts evasion, and aids in escaping battles or resisting status effects. Basically, (RNG) random number generator. To make things go in my favor.
But out of all my attributes this one is unknown. There was no explanation besides that, no matter how much I tried to probe it. I can only hope it meant something good. Like divine luck that couldn't be measured.
The system also confirmed something else that caught my attention fast: my future class options would be influenced by my attributes and attributes. And that mattered a lot.
Because it meant the path ahead wasn't just about surviving long enough to become a Witcher or after becoming one. It meant that whatever I chose, or whatever the system cornered me into choosing would interact with the rest of my build.
It said certain classes needed certain attribute minimums or traits at minimum. Once chosen, a class couldn't simply be swapped out. It could only be evolved, and the system made it sound very clear that evolution into advanced classes would be difficult.
Which also meant hidden classes could existed too. That alone kept a corner of my mind constantly working. But without a guide to work off of, I am basically walking in the dark, and the system is the one setting my path.
Hidden classes in a system like this meant rare conditions to meet, unique builds, or special story paths. And in a world as dangerous as this one, a strong or unique class might be the difference between survival and death.
Then there was also the codex.
The codex was, frankly, one of the most useful things I had. It had all the monster knowledge I personally possessed from my past life. From the Witcher books I read, game knowledge and lore.
The codex organized everything into something cleaner and more accessible. It also contained my general understanding of the Witcher world itself. From the different regions, races, known monsters, fragments of politics, bits of cultural knowledge, and practical monster weaknesses all sat there waiting to be referenced. But it was not omniscient.
It only knew what I knew. But it organized that knowledge far better than my own memory ever could under stress. And that alone made it invaluable to my future survival.
Now there were limits to the system though. I had no visible level. Or numerical health bar and stamina gauge. No mana or toxicity readout, but the toxicity one might come once I become a Witcher.
The Ability point was straight forward I could probably use it increase a skill or ability or future skill. I figured attribute points would probably increase from training and as bonus quest rewards.
It was just my theory based off of my past world knowledge when it came to video game mechanics. But not all were the same, so I would have to figure it out as I go.
Kaer Morhen, would be the best place for me to figure all this out.
I can tell the system was most likely waiting until I was actually on the path of becoming a Witcher before opening more features. But this was just guesswork until I had proof and my biggest problem still ahead of me was.
The Trial of the Grasses.
The Trial had been designed for young human boys. Well designed might be too generous a word I liked to use. It was more like a refined mad scientist experiment with just barely enough structure that repeatedly produce results.
And even then the mortality rate was horrifying. Three or four out of ten surviving was still monstrous when you actually thought about it, and some sources of the lore implied even worse odds depending on the school and era.
Since I'm a half-elf. In theory, a half-elf might survive.
In "theory" being the key word.
But that didn't comfort me at all. I know that elves show a slightly higher resistance to toxins and poisons then humans. And since Elves live much longer than humans. This could implied a more stable cellular structure, which could prevent my body from breaking down completely under the stress of the mutation.
Being only half is still better than none. But this is all still a theory of mine.
When the mutations, alchemy, and body chemistry involved had historically been built around humans the game lore doesn't help. So I don't know whether my mixed blood made me more resilient, less stable, or simply incompatible.
The system had shoved me toward Kaer Morhen anyway. So it has something up it's sleeve to help me survive. Or it didn't care if I died trying and might want to see me die. No that wouldn't make any sense. Cain thought.
There would be no point in making sure I stayed alive just to kill me off like that. I didn't know which unsettled me more. Not knowing if I can survive the trial or what might the system have planned for me.
Then by the sixth day, Geralt told me we were about half a day away from the stronghold. That was enough to make the entire world feel sharper. Soon I would figure what the system held in store for me.
I began to sit a little straighter in the saddle. As I thought about it all Kaer Morhen. The Wolf School keep. It's the place I had seen in games, read about in lore and now it was close to being real. I knew nothing I could do would prepare me for when I got there.
We were moving along a snow-covered road when it happened. The land around us had changed over the last day, rising gradually, becoming rougher and more severe. The forests had thinned in places, giving way to slopes of stone and stretches of wind-scoured snow. The air tasted colder, cleaner, older somehow, like it came down directly from the mountains.
That's when my nose caught a whiff of something.
I stiffened as I smelled something sweet. Like wrongly sweet. It had a thick stench rot underneath. Not just decay...something putrid, wet, and faintly sulfurous, like meat left in a swamp and then dragged through old ash.
That's when a system notification flashed before my eyes.
System Notification: Codex Match Found
Putrid, sweet, sulfurous odor matches codex markers for a Necrophage.
Probable nearby threat: Ghoul or Alghoul.
My eyes widened. Wait, the codex auto-triggers for monster encounters?
That was unexpected and extremely useful. For the first time this week I almost felt a burst of genuine appreciation for the system before reality reasserted itself.
No wait there's a monster to deal with first. Your curiosity can wait for now.
"Geralt," I said immediately. "I smell something."
He nodded once as if he had expected it.
"Yeah. I caught the scent a while back. Thought we were just passing near a ghoul nest from what it smelled like. The scent was faint so I thought we were far away to ignore it for now." His eyes scanned the snowy terrain ahead. " But it's closer than I thought, but still faint compared a full nest of them. Must just be one straggler."
Geralt dismounted in one smooth motion and took Roach's reins. "Stay on the horse. Don't make sudden movements or loud noises."
I nodded.
Under the blanket and cloak, I summoned the Hunter's Edge Knife into my hand. The blade appeared instantly, hidden from view by the folds of cloth. I kept it low and still, but my pulse was picking up. I didn't want Geralt to see it unless I had no choice. But I was not going to sit exposed and unarmed if a necrophage got through him.
Geralt moved a few paces away from Roach, drawing his silver sword. Now that I knew what to look for, I saw how he searched.
He wasn't looking broadly, but at specifically locations.
His eyes tracked places where the snow looked slightly disturbed, where drifts formed unnatural dips, where the white surface had a subtle sag as if something beneath it had tunneled up or crawled across it. He looked at rocks, dead brush, wind shadows, shallow hollows.
Then something exploded out of the snow ahead. It came with a shriek so harsh it felt like metal scraping bone.
The creature that launched itself out of the drift was larger than the ghouls I remembered from the games, or maybe it only felt that way because this one was real. Pale gray flesh stretched over a hunched, wiry frame. Its limbs were too long, claws black and hooked, its skull-like face split by a mouth full of filthy teeth. It's bristles or spines jutted along its back and neck. Its eyes were feral, bloodshot, furious.
That's an Alghoul.
I froze for half a heartbeat from the sight of it.
No game had ever truly captured what it felt like to see a monster like that moving in real space. Or maybe it was so crazy seeing it in real life now. The jerking speed. The wetness in its mouth. The raw, starving hatred in the scream. I was a true monster in every sense of the word.
The fight began as It launched straight at Geralt, and he met it with a slash of silver and a step to the side.
The first thing I noticed was that it wasn't a flashy fight. There was no dramatic flourish, or theatrical spinning. It was cold, practical swordsmanship that was designed for killing.
Geralt moved with ruthless efficiency. Small shifts of footwork with precise angles. Minimal wasted motion in his parry's and strikes. Every strike was made to wound, disable, or kill. Every dodge was only as wide as it needed to be. He fought like a man who had done this a thousand times and knew exactly how little room he could afford to give a monster.
The alghoul slashed at him with both forelimbs, shrieking, trying to overwhelm him with speed and ferocity.
Geralt ducked one strike, deflected another, and carved a shallow silver line across its shoulder. Blackish blood splattered the snow.
Then he cast Igni.
The sign burst from his hand in a spew of fire washing across the creature's side. The alghoul screamed and recoiled, flesh charring in ugly patches. The smell hit me a second later it's burnt meat layered over the existing rot.
Geralt pressed the advantage, cutting again, but the creature twisted away with horrifying agility and came at him from the side. One set of claws narrowly missed his ribs. Another swipe made him shift back just in time.
I watched everything so intensely, no it was more like I was entranced.
Every step, opening, and detail of Geralts fighting style began to burn int my mind.
And then, during a brief exchange where Geralt blasted the creature back with Aard, I saw it. A wound.
The alghoul's back left hind limb bore an ugly gash. Maybe from an earlier hunt or from fighting something else. Whatever had caused it, the leg didn't move right. I could tell it supported weight badly. Every time the creature pivoted hard, there was a split-second drag in its balance.
My mind locked onto it. "Geralt!" I shouted. "Its back left leg the hind one! There's a deep gash wound. Aim there!"
The alghoul heard me. Its head snapped toward Roach and me with frightening speed, lips pulling back from its teeth in a snarl.
For one terrible moment, I knew it had chosen me as it's next traget.
The Alghoul roared and began to lunge towards Cain and Roach. Geralt already noticed and was already moving.
Geralt used the Aard sign and struck first. The telekinetic force slamming into the creature and staggering it off its line just enough.
Then he used Yrden on the ground, and a faint purple magical trap snapping into place beneath and around the alghoul. Its movement slowed instantly, the sudden weight of magic dragging at its limbs.
Geralt closed the distance in two steps. His First strike had his silver sword cut deep through the damaged hind leg. The second strike was clean and brutal, as it sheared through the alghoul's neck.
The head came off in one smooth arc of silver and blood, and the body collapsed into the snow.
Silence then fell over the area, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Geralt stayed poised for another second, his blade ready and his eyes scanning the area for more monsters. Only when the body stopped twitching did he turn toward me.
He walked back slowly, breathing hard but controlled, snow crunching under his boots. "That was dangerous, If I didn't react in time you be dead." he said.
I braced for a reprimand, but instead he looked at me for another moment and added, "But that was good catch."
I blinked in surprise.
He sheathed the sword. "You noticed the weak leg before I did. And you didn't freeze." His tone remained flat, but there was something slightly different beneath it now. "Not many adults can do the same with a monster in front of them."
I didn't smile. Partly because I was still too wound up. But being praised by Geralt of Rivia in the middle of a monster-killed road felt too surreal to process properly.
"Thanks," I said.
He snorted softly. "I'm just telling you the truth. Next time I tell you to be quiet stay that way."
That sounded exactly like him. "Understood."
Geralt moved back to the corpse. "Need to deal with the body."
I watched as he went about it with the same efficient practicality he had shown in the fight. He cut out usable monster parts with quick, and experienced motions. He took blood, tissue, an other useful bits for alchemy potions and elixirs.
I recognized the same process from the games, but seeing it in person was different. It was a lot more messier. The snow steamed faintly where the blood hit it.
Once he was done collecting what he wanted, he burned the remains, and the smell was awful. But soon enough, the corpse was charred enough to be left behind without attracting every scavenger for miles, and we were moving again.
A few hours later the land opened around us in a way that made my chest tighten.
The Blue Mountains rose around the horizon like ancient stone teeth, vast and stern beneath the winter sky. It's slopes were buried in snow, but the size of them still came through a wall of cold, rock.
We had entered the northeastern reaches of Kaedwen, and now the road dropped gradually into a valley near Gwenllech.
And there, at last, I saw it.
Kaer Morhen.
The old keep stood ahead of us, framed by mountain and winter and the long history of things dying slowly. Even from a distance it was imposing. Large. Ancient and looked like it was built to endure.
And yet their were a few clear signs of it being worn and damaged. I could see it even from our approach.
This is probably the damage from the sacking which destroyed the School of the Wolf's ability to create many new Witcher's. A mob of peasants and fanatics incited by mages massacred most Witcher's.
That's why the school was in the shape it was in during the books and games.
"So this is it," I murmured before I could stop myself. "Kaer Morhen."
Geralt glanced down at me briefly.
"Welcome," he said, and for the first time there was the faintest trace of something almost like dry amusement in his voice, "to the witcher stronghold of the School of the Wolf."
We passed through the outer approach and into the grounds proper. The moment Roach crossed the threshold into the main yard, the system window flashed before my eyes.
System Notification: Common Ranked Quest: Road to Kaer Morhen — Complete
Rewards Received: +1 to all attributes. 1 Common Equipment Chest +1 Ability Point
My eyes widened in pure joy. I had to fight down an immediate grin.
My attributes increase across the board which is always good and rewards were useful to.
I could already feel a subtle shift through my body the same way I had with the knife, only broader this time. A touch more energy and clarity.
I wanted to open the chest, and figure out what the ability point could be spent on. But I would have to wait until I was alone. Right now I have to be aware of everything about to happen.
That's when I saw who was waiting in the yard. A man stood there in Witcher leathers.
He was slightly older looking. Handsome in a rougher stoic way, harder way. His face was older, more weathered, but not diminished by it. He had the slit-pupiled eyes of a Witcher, long gray hair shaved at the sides and tied back into a long pointed tail. And his stance was relaxed in the way only dangerous men ever truly managed.
But his face. I knew that face. For one utterly absurd moment, my brain short-circuited so badly I almost forgot where I was.
What the hell?
What is Jeffrey Dean Morgan doing here?