109. The Beginning of the Witcher Corps.

Witchers.

Professional monster slayers.

They undergo mutations to become superhumans, gaining extraordinary physical abilities to face monsters that ordinary people cannot. This mutation process is known as the Trial of the Grasses. With an average death rate as high as forty percent, it limits the growth of the witcher population and is also the source of much public disdain.

After all, no parent wishes for their child to die in extreme pain. And to surrender one's child to the whims of fate is akin to killing them with their own hands.

But what if...

What if the death rate of the Trial of the Grasses was reduced?

Even further, imagine if the death rate was reduced to zero?

Immortality combined with extraordinary strength, at the mere cost of losing the ability to reproduce. Witchers could potentially become the most sought-after profession in the Northern Continent, perhaps even the entire world.

In such a scenario, who would dare oppose them?

"Huff... huff... huff..."

The seasoned Chief's breathing grew heavy. His silver eyes stared intently at the sorceress. The sorceress lowered her head, pondered for a moment, and then shook her head.

"Why not?" the Chief asked anxiously.

"I didn't say it's impossible. I mean I don't know."

Ignoring the Chief's urgency, the sorceress leisurely swirled the essence liquid in her hand and took a sip.

About half a minute later, she opened her eyes and said: "Without experimentation, I cannot be certain..."

"But based on the analysis of its effects, it should increase the survival rate of children in the Trial of the Grasses."

The Chief and Allen both breathed a sigh of relief, beginning to look forward to the future.

"The next step is to produce a large amount of the essence liquid," the Chief thought.

He then looked at Allen. Allen didn't need to read minds to understand the Chief's gaze. But he was very pressed for time, with hundreds of apprentices. If the results were significant, there would be even more in the future. He couldn't afford to be a potion-making machine. So Allen looked at the sorceress.

The sorceress nodded slightly, not refusing, and said: "I will teach Mary how to make the essence liquid as soon as possible."

Mary: ?

She wanted to refuse, but among the four, she had the least say. Mary was the sorceress's apprentice. Before becoming a master herself, she was entirely under the sorceress's control, essentially her slave. Under the sorceress's cold gaze, she could only stiffly nod, her dark face once again welling up with tears, and force a smile: "I... I will learn as quickly as possible."

"Good." Vera nodded in satisfaction.

"Now, about the reward," the Chief smiled, "Allen, what do you want in exchange for this formula? Money? Weapons? Armor? Or magical artifacts?"

He didn't mention the other formulas, as this essence liquid alone was enough to warrant a significant request. Allen had actually already thought about this.

He shook his head, looked the Chief straight in the eyes, and said: "I don't need magical artifacts, I don't need armor or weapons, and I certainly don't need money..."

The Chief looked at him deeply and said, "It seems what you want is more valuable than those things."

Allen took a deep breath and said seriously: "I want to exchange all the formulas I currently possess for a position."

"What position?"

"The commander of the Wolf School Witcher Corps."

"Ah?" The Chief was a bit taken aback.

He instinctively looked at Vera, and seeing her surprise, knew it wasn't her idea.

"Hmm... I don't recall the Wolf School having such a position."

"But..."

The Chief stroked his rough beard, thought for a moment, and then his eyes suddenly became sharp: "If I understand correctly, you intend to split from Kaer Morhen and form your own force?"

In an instant.

A powerful aura emanated from the Chief.

"Roar!"

In a daze, Allen saw a giant dragon with wings that could block out the sky roaring at him. This roar mocked his naivety, pitied his foolishness, and raged at his audacity...

The next moment.

A massive silver pupil filled his vision, staring directly at him. It threatened to freeze him, then burn him to a crisp...

Allen was so shocked by the pressure that his body froze instantly, like a chick facing a raptor. Cold sweat poured from his forehead.

Until...

"Snap!"

A snap of fingers. The school badge hummed. The enormous silver pupil vanished, leaving only the Chief's silver cat eyes staring at him.

Was... was that an illusion?

Allen was unsure, instinctively wanting to look away from those silver eyes, but he forced himself to overcome the fear. He knew it was just a test, and looking away would mean failure.

"That was Dragon's Might, or rather Anti-Dragon's Might."

The sorceress, as if passing by, walked between them and continued: "If you ever slay a real dragon, you will possess this kind of pressure."

"This is the true dragon's warning to its kind."

As the sorceress walked past, the Chief withdrew his gaze, appearing to be deep in thought.

Dragon's Might?

Was it from the red dragon the Chief had hung on the wall?

No wonder the Mirage pearl didn't react. Allen couldn't help but be amazed. Only then did he realize he was drenched in sweat. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Allen noticed that Mary was once again buried in a pile of drowner hearts. Seeing the Chief still deep in thought, he got up and moved Mary away from the hearts. Mary's entire body exuded a unique burnt smell, as if it had been ingrained into her. Thinking about the time she would spend with the drowner hearts, and the difficulty of making the essence liquid, her face would probably stay dark for a few more days.

Even the one responsible for this couldn't help but pity her.

"Why do you want to establish this Witcher Corps?"

The Chief's voice suddenly came from behind.

Allen immediately placed Mary properly, then turned to face the Chief and said seriously: "Because I want to lead Kaer Morhen through this crisis, the next crisis, and countless future crises."

"What do you mean?" the Chief asked seriously.

Allen leaned slightly forward and continued: "As I mentioned in the meeting with the masters before, the Wolf School is too scattered."

"Kaer Morhen is just a birthplace, a gathering place, but that's all it is."

"This was fine in the past, but with the current crisis, such a loose structure can no longer even protect itself."

He paused for a moment and gave an example: "Like today at Kaer Morhen's gate, in a loose organizational structure, the weakest person guards the most important place."

"And if something goes wrong, we can't even punish them."

"Because the powerful witchers don't want to guard the gate in winter."

"At that time..."

"I even thought the scene in my dream might happen precisely because of this."

After his last words, the alchemy room fell silent.

Seeing the contemplative look on the Chief's face, Allen knew he had succeeded!

Sure enough, after a moment of silence, the Chief sighed and said: "Can your Witcher Corps ensure this doesn't happen?"

"Yes!" Allen said firmly.

"Alright! I agree!"

As soon as the Chief finished speaking, before Allen could even get excited, a familiar mechanical voice rang in his ear.

"Ding, main quest discovered: [The Beginning of the Witcher Corps]."

...…

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110. Have the Wildcats Named Their Price?

111. Have I Done It All?

112. Good Night!

113. May the Goddess Melitele Bless Me.

114. This World No Longer Needs Witchers.