Grinding as a Witcher - 188 (Patreon)

Chapter 188: Dol Blathanna

“Roar!”

A dragon’s roar thundered across the sky. The massive red beast descended in a gale and landed on the ground.

The monsters still lingering around the crater trembled in fear.

Their senses were dozens, even hundreds of times sharper than those of Humans, and they could clearly detect the lingering scent of blood on the two of them.

It was the blood of a Rock Dragon.

Realizing that the Rock Dragon was dead, the monsters scattered in every direction, no longer daring to covet anything within the crater.

As for the mindless monsters, the Dwarf guards quickly cleaned them up.

Half an hour later, every Dwarf raised their arms and cheered, their jubilant voices echoing through the volcanic sea of clouds.

Ida Emean aep Sivney came to Alvin’s side, and even the air around her seemed to grow fresher.

She could tell at a glance that the Witcher was in an excellent mood.

“Looks like you’ve made another good find, Witcher?”

Alvin turned to her. Ida Emean aep Sivney’s expression was calm, and her fiery red hair, coiled behind her head, looked like a vivid rose blooming amid the battlefield.

“You could tell?”

Ida Emean aep Sivney smiled and pointed at her eyes.

“An Elf’s eyes are no worse than a Witcher’s eyes. You caused quite a commotion just now. I imagine your opponent was something enormous.”

Even in the midst of battle, she had kept an eye on Alvin’s movements, and what she had seen had left her deeply shaken.

From where she stood, she had only seen Alvin fall from the sky. The moment he struck, an entire stretch of land collapsed and the forest was overturned. The sight had been spectacular.

Producing that kind of effect with Chaos would require a lengthy incantation, and the caster would have to be at least a high-level mage or wizard.

Yet Alvin had done it with ease.

His strength was becoming more frightening by the day.

Alvin shrugged. Given the relationship between them, he saw no need to hide it from her.

“I suppose so. It was a Rock Dragon.”

Ida Emean aep Sivney froze.

Rock Dragons lived underground and were renowned for their formidable defenses. They were notoriously difficult to deal with.

“You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“No. It couldn’t do anything to me.”

Ida Emean aep Sivney gave a slight nod.

The noisy surroundings suddenly fell silent, drawing both their attention.

Not far away, the Dwarves had formed a circle, their expressions solemn.

Alvin and Ida Emean aep Sivney walked over.

Brouver’s armor was covered in monster blood of every imaginable color.

Before him lay one body after another, all Dwarves who had fallen in battle.

Brouver placed his right hand over his chest.

“Great Goddess Bloemenmagde, may you take these children into your care, and may you bless us as well.”

Every Dwarf present lowered their head and remained silent for three breaths.

The moment was over as quickly as it had begun. The Dwarves slung their arms around one another’s shoulders and went back to work, laughing and joking.

When Ida Emean aep Sivney saw Brouver approaching, she could not help saying, “You Dwarves really are optimistic.”

Brouver wiped the blood from the back of his hand. The moment Alvin had left the platform, Brouver had joined the fighting on the front line and personally slain quite a few monsters.

His tone was casual, as though he had long since grown accustomed to such things.

“Ida, this is how we Dwarves do things. We’ve been used to it for ages.”

“Grief doesn’t do anyone any good. It only leaves more Dwarves standing still instead of moving forward. Better to drink a cup of Mahakam mead and put it behind us.”

“Besides, these youngsters were heroes. For a Dwarf, dying in battle is one of the greatest honors there is.”

At that, he rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming as he looked over the monster corpses scattered everywhere.

“Just look at this. Now this is a fine harvest. So many monsters, and plenty of them are good eating. Even those ugly Ghouls have teeth that make excellent Alchemy materials.”

“Draconids you’d hardly ever see normally are everywhere here. And their hind-leg meat in particular... gods, that taste.”

After this battle, the Mahakam Dwarves had truly made a fortune. For the next several years, they would not have to worry about a shortage of high-quality meat.

Then Brouver noticed a corner of the crater where a group of Dwarf soldiers had surrounded the Red Dragon Keltullis, fighting over the monster carcass in her mouth.

It was the corpse of a Forktail.

Keltullis swallowed it in two or three bites, blood spilling steadily from between her jaws.

The surrounding Dwarf soldiers shouted for her to spit it back out.

They did not dare curse her, however. For one thing, the Elder-in-Chief had explicitly ordered them not to harm her.

For another, the Red Dragon’s dragonfire had helped them immensely. Without it, the casualties from such a ferocious Monster Tide would have been far greater.

Keltullis ignored them completely and continued enjoying the buffet without the slightest concern.

This meal would be more than enough to restore all the vitality she had lost during her previous pregnancy.

The more she thought about the Dwarves ambushing her with an Abortifacient, the angrier she became, and the harder she ate.

Brouver’s mouth twitched at the sight.

“Witcher, I know we owe her, but could you get her to eat a little less? At least tell her to stop going after all the Draconids.”

Alvin sent her a mental message.

Keltullis stiffened. Muttering under her breath, she reluctantly turned her attention toward the corpses of the Werewolves and the other monsters.

The Gnome Master Alchemist walked over, bowed, and addressed Alvin with great respect.

“Esteemed Human Grandmaster Alchemist, it is truly an honor to meet you. I am Blake Beckenbauer.”

Alvin returned the courtesy.

“Master Blake, a pleasure.”

A broad smile spread across Blake’s deeply wrinkled face.

“How could I dare call myself a Master before you? If you think me worthy of it, just call me Blake.”

“Ah, and this is...” He raised a finger and gestured toward the Gnome beside him.

The Gnome was no longer young. He wore a gentle smile, though somehow it made him look a little lecherous.

“My name is Barnabas. Barnabas Beckenbauer. Grandmaster, you may call me Bibi.”

After introducing himself, he immediately drifted off into his own thoughts, as if pondering something important, leaving him looking rather absent-minded.

But the name Barnabas instantly made Alvin’s eyes light up.

This was the talented Alchemist who had aided Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia during the Fall of the Monarchy.

And speaking of Meve, the queen herself was impossible to overlook. She was renowned for both her wisdom and beauty, and possessed extraordinary personal charisma.

During the Second Northern War of the Nilfgaardian Empire, Meve was betrayed by her own son. The Kingdom of Rivia fell and was forced to submit to the Nilfgaardian Empire.

Yet through sheer force of personality, aided by Duke of Dogs Gascon, Meve escaped the royal capital, rallied the remnants of her army, absorbed the Strays of Spalla and Skellige pirates into her forces, then climbed Mount Mahakam and won the support of the Dwarves.

The road was filled with hardship. The Nilfgaardian Army, the Rivia rebels, the snow-covered mountains, the swampy forests, even the Scoia’tael relentlessly snapping at her heels. None of it made the queen give up.

Step by step, she reversed the situation and eventually reclaimed the throne of Rivia.

The most dangerous moment of that entire campaign came during the Battle for the Bridge on the Yaruga.

The Red Bridge was under Nilfgaardian control, while the ships Meve’s forces had intended to use had been taken away amid the chaos of war.

And the man who had taken them was another old acquaintance of Alvin’s.

Geralt, traveling south in search of his daughter.

When Geralt saw Meve trapped on the opposite bank while the Nilfgaardian Army closed in around her, he drew his sword and fought, buying her precious time to escape.

Because of that battle, Meve knighted Geralt.

Only then did the name “Geralt of Rivia” become truly deserved.

“Blake, what did you come to see me about?”

Alvin noticed the hesitation on Blake’s face and went straight to the point.

Blake scratched his head and smiled good-naturedly.

“Grandmaster, you certainly don’t waste words. I came to find work for this fool of a nephew of mine. I was hoping you might let him assist you.”

Alvin’s interest was piqued.

“Assist me?”

Blake quickly shoved Barnabas beside him.

“Idiot, tell the Grandmaster about your invention.”

“Hm?”

Barnabas came back to himself.

“Oh, right, of course. Gods, what a blockhead I am. I’ve invented something that can give a person wings and let them fly through the sky like a bird.”

Alvin was delighted.

So it really was him.

“That sounds quite interesting,” Alvin said, pretending to consider it.

Barnabas’s eyes lit up.

“Really? You think it’s interesting?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful! My uncle keeps saying I waste my time on useless things, but I told him my Skylicker would definitely be useful for something.”

Blake’s expression darkened.

“See what I mean? That fool of his. His Skylicker can take off, sure, but it has never once landed safely. I don’t even know how many test animals he’s killed with the thing.”

“If you really think he has some promise, let him run errands for you. Perhaps you can give him a few pointers while you’re at it.”

Alvin considered him for a moment.

“He does have talent. It’s just...”

“Just what?”

Alvin shook his head without explaining.

Barnabas was less an Alchemist than a scientist.

His wildly imaginative ideas often produced unexpected surprises.

And as it happened, Alvin had the outlines of countless inventions in his head. What he lacked was someone willing to study them in depth and turn them into reality.

Barnabas was an excellent choice.

It was time to give this world a small taste of technological upheaval.

“Blake, I’ll take him.”

Delight spread across Blake’s weathered face.

“That’s wonderful. Barnabas, hurry up and thank the Grandmaster.”

Barnabas bowed gratefully.

“Thank you, Grandmaster.”

Alvin waved a hand.

They chatted for a few more moments before everyone returned to their work.

Barnabas bid Alvin farewell, then went back with Blake to pack his things.

Once the others had left, only Alvin and Ida Emean aep Sivney remained.

Ida spoke.

“Witcher, Francesca wants to meet you in person.”

Alvin glanced at her. The two moved to a secluded corner, where Ida Emean aep Sivney opened a Portal.

The dazzling white light quickly faded as they reached their destination.

...

Alvin’s vision gradually returned.

The scorching heat of the crater was gone, replaced by a gentle spring breeze.

Birdsong and the chirping of insects filled his ears, while a faint floral fragrance lingered beneath his nose.

Roses, lilies, lilacs...

Flowers from different seasons bloomed together here, as though freed from the constraints of time, each competing to display its beauty.

The sky was a spotless blue. Through the drooping willow branches swaying before him like a green curtain, Alvin saw a palace built of marble and alabaster.

Its snow-white walls were carved with lifelike images of countless living things, every detail exquisite.

As the breeze passed, the sea of flowers rippled and butterflies fluttered through the air. The movement seemed to send gentle waves across the entire scene, making the palace appear even softer and more beautiful.

Ida Emean aep Sivney gave a noble curtsy.

“Alvin, welcome to Dol Blathanna.”

Alvin returned the courtesy.

Under Ida’s lead, he entered the palace.

White dominated the interior, lending the entire hall a sense of almost spiritual purity.

“Little girl, you’re wrong again. Those are stars.”

A warm, resonant voice sounded through the hall, followed by a slightly stubborn reply.

“Stars? Shouldn’t that be a willow grove?”

“Remember what I told you. Chaos can be deceptive. Don’t trust your eyes so easily and mistake the reflection on the lake for stars in the night sky.”

Verona rested her chin in both hands, her porcelain-doll-like face full of concentration.

Tap, tap, tap...

Footsteps echoed through the great hall, drawing their attention.

When Verona spotted the familiar black robe beside Ida Emean aep Sivney, joy flooded her blood-red eyes. She immediately jumped down from the steps and rushed straight into Alvin’s arms.

“Alvin, you came to see me.”

She began counting on her fingers, her small face utterly serious.

“One day, two days... We haven’t seen each other for thirty-seven days.”

Alvin ruffled her hair, his voice gentle.

“How have you been here?”

“Very well,” she whispered. “But I’ve been here a long time. I miss the big one a little.”

By “the big one,” she meant the Kikimore queen.

The two had lived together in Morgraig for years and had long since formed a deep bond.

“Verona, may I borrow the Witcher for a while?”

Verona was clearly displeased at being interrupted, but she obediently took Ida’s hand and whispered to Alvin.

“Alvin, when you’re done, I’ll take you to see my secret hideout.”

Alvin smiled and nodded.

He listened as their footsteps gradually faded away, then turned his attention forward again.

Francesca descended the steps.

Her long golden hair was coiled beneath a headpiece. Her features were breathtakingly beautiful, and her skin was smooth and pale as frost. The bright red dress she wore was not particularly extravagant, nor were her ornaments made of precious gems. They consisted only of simple shells and pearls.

Yet the natural dignity surrounding her was even stronger than before.

“Grrr...”

Two restrained growls came from behind her.

Two leopard cats with exceptionally sleek fur stared warily at Alvin.

Francesca raised a hand slightly to calm her pets, then gave Alvin a proper Human noble curtsy. Her tone was calm.

“Lord Alvin, it is an honor to meet you here.”

“The honor is mine.”

Francesca studied him from head to toe, then let out a faint sigh.

“I must admit, you Humans truly are blessed.

“That little girl is one example, and so are you. Verona has already mastered the Meditation Method. It will not be long before she reaches the level of a novice Mage.”

Alvin replied courteously, “That is certainly something worth celebrating, though most of the credit belongs to your teaching.”

“But enough small talk, Francesca. You didn’t invite me here just so you could discuss a student’s studies with her guardian, did you?”

Francesca’s brows drew together slightly.

She had met countless people, especially men. Most became intoxicated by her beauty and would do almost anything to please her, even obeying her every word.

“Heh. Indeed...”

She walked over and stopped in front of Alvin, carrying with her a faint fragrance that seemed to tug at the heart.

Her red lips parted, and her voice was as soothing as a spring breeze.

But what she said made Alvin’s expression turn serious.

“Witcher, please ascend the King’s Throne of Kovir.”