436. Sorcerer Allen?

"Hm?"

Vesemir's steps halted slightly as he exclaimed in surprise, "Something happened at Ban Ard again?"

He instinctively turned his head to the side—only to remember that Allen had already gone back to his room and wasn't here.

'What am I thinking?'

Vesemir shook his head with an amused smile.

'How could something happen at Ban Ard and it immediately be related to Allen?'

"What happened?" Vesemir asked as he approached.

Nenneke didn't answer directly. Her gaze swept across the grass before she asked instead, "Where's Allen?"

"As soon as I got news that the royal griffin had returned, I came straight here."

"He didn't come back with you all?"

Vesemir didn't mind being ignored by Nenneke.

After all, given the series of events that had occurred, Allen was perhaps more important to the temple than all the Wolf School witchers combined.

"He went back. He seemed a little unwell…"

"Didn't you say he was supposed to recover from his weakness today?" Nenneke frowned slightly.

"He did recover," Vesemir shook his head. "I even saw him fight this afternoon. His swordplay was sharper than ever… Uh… Maybe he pushed himself too hard in battle right after recovering, and his body hasn't fully adjusted yet—"

"Who lets a patient fight the moment they recover?"

Nenneke's brows furrowed into deep, stormy creases, and her tone carried a hint of scolding. "Allen is still a child at the end of the day. He might not know better, but you—"

"You're an experienced witcher master. Don't you know recovery has to be gradual?"

'Unless it's a severe injury, what witcher actually recovers gradually…?'

Vesemir was speechless.

They were warriors with thick skin and enhanced regeneration—not fragile sorcerers who shattered like porcelain.

Witchers were created to fight in the harshest conditions for extended periods—they weren't so delicate…

Of course.

Seeing Nenneke's furious eyes and slightly raised brows, Vesemir wisely swallowed his thoughts.

"I'll be more careful next time," he sighed, scratching his hair and obediently agreeing.

Only Allen could get this kind of treatment.

Any other orphaned witcher—who would care if they injured themselves in battle right after recovering?

A client would only complain that the witcher was careless and had delayed completing their contract—causing additional losses.

For a moment, even Vesemir felt a hint of jealousy toward Allen.

Nenneke continued her nagging for quite a while, until Vesemir nearly wore out the brim of his wide-brimmed black hat from fidgeting.

Only then did she remember her original purpose for coming.

"Let's go find Allen. Injuries are no small matter—I need to check on him," Nenneke said, already walking across the grass toward the western stone path before she even finished speaking. "We'll talk about Ban Ard's situation there. That way, I won't have to repeat myself…"

Vesemir, after being lectured for half the night, could only repeatedly agree. But he also knew—Nenneke hadn't really come for him.

Not that he minded.

He had never been fond of dealing with complicated matters—better to leave all that thinking to Allen.

"As expected of my witcher apprentice," Vesemir thought to himself.

Then, after taking a couple of steps and seeing the young witchers still lazily sprawled on the ground, peering at him with their small, shifty eyes, Vesemir's anger flared up as he scolded: "Get up and continue training!"

"When I get back, if I find out that any of you can't even hold up an Heliotrop sign against a single Igni, don't even think about your claws—I'll tie you to the royal griffin's wing talons instead…!"

Before Vesemir could finish his reprimand, the seven witchers immediately jumped up, their faces turning pale.

Wing talons…

At the speed the royal griffin flapped its wings, just getting dragged along mid-flight would be enough to leave them half-dead.

But more importantly—their image.

After days of monster hunting and riding on the captain's reputation, they had gained some recognition in Ellander. They had a reputation to maintain.

If the griffin happened to land somewhere crowded…

They could already imagine the humiliating sight—being swung around like ragdolls by the griffin, flailing helplessly in front of an audience.

"Bzzzz~"

The medallions of the Wolf School vibrated.

Vesemir had barely walked away when seven glowing purple spheres lit up across the empty grassland.

----------------------------

Inside a small house within the temple.

The moment the flesh core of the summoning ritual vanished from his inventory, the mutated organ near Allen's heart suddenly began to pulse—not just like a heart, but even stronger than a heart.

A scorching heat spread through him, as if molten lava was surging inside that organ.

"Bzzzz~"

The Wolf medallion vibrated violently, leaping from his collar and trembling mid-air.

Four types of elemental lights—red, brown, blue, and green—swirled around Allen, and the fire element, his most attuned affinity, crackled restlessly, bursting into sparks in the air.

Allen had never felt the emotions of the elements so clearly before.

The lightness of air, the weight of earth, the gentleness of water, and the ferocity of fire—he could feel them, and they responded to him with wild enthusiasm.

Especially fire.

Tiny crimson spirits darted from the room into his body, then flickered out again, as if the barrier of flesh meant nothing to them.

The other elements weren't as active, but they, too, began merging into him.

During this process, an invisible bond began to form.

Fire was the closest, followed by earth and water. Wind, though initially the weakest connection, was strengthening at an alarming speed—far surpassing the other three.

"Hmph~"

The searing pain, as if his flesh was burning, forced a muffled groan from Allen.

He looked at his personal status screen.

The magic attribute in his stats was surging rapidly.

93, 94, 95, 98, 99…

Then, before he could even process it, the number broke past 100 in the blink of an eye. It surged further, surpassing 110, before finally coming to a halt at 119.

Just a little more, and it would have exceeded 120.

----------------------------

[Stats: Strength 94, Agility 79, Constitution 85, Perception 88, Mystery 119 (+26)]

[Affinity: Water 15 (Mana Source · Water 5%), Earth 19 (Mana Source · Earth 9%), Wind 21 (Mana Source · Wind 11%) (+11), Fire 24 (Mana Source · Fire 14%), Space 2]

----------------------------

An abundance of magic power surged through his body.

Even the air he breathed in and out seemed to be saturated with magic, soaking into every corner of his being.

The magic energy was even accumulating—clogging his mana channels due to its sheer density.

It made Allen desperately want to unleash every single sign he had learned, over and over again, just to release the pent-up magic within him.

But he knew…

Even if he did that, the "accumulated" magic still wouldn't be fully expelled.

By design, Signs had a natural limitation. Whether it was Quen, Heliotrop for defense, or Igni, Aard for offense, all of them traded output power for speed.

This was never a real flaw for witchers, since their bodies could only store small amounts of magic, and their magic circuits were never built to handle large-scale mana flow.

In fact, Signs were specifically created for witchers by sorcerers like Alzur and Cosimo, meant to assist in close combat.But now—Allen's body could handle it.

He was fully capable of unleashing far stronger spells.

Signs could no longer utilize his full magical potential.

Or rather…

Aside from spells that matched his power, he was already a sorcerer.

----------------------------

"But…" Allen frowned as he analyzed the changes in his body. "Why was there no 'barrier'? How did my Mystery stat surpass 100 so easily?"

"Is it because I'm special? Do none of my attributes have a limit? Or is it just Mystery that works like this?"

"Wait…"

A sudden realization struck Allen.

He thought back to the appraisal he had done on Mary's stats earlier.

----------------------------

[Name: Margarita Laux-Antille]

[Stats: Strength 11, Agility 9, Constitution 12, Perception 76, Mystery 81]

Mary's attributes were extremely polarized—her Perception and Mystery far exceeded all her other stats.

Yet, she didn't seem to have faced any of the barriers that Vesemir encountered when trying to raise his Perception.

And Mary wasn't a hedge mage—she was an "exceptional academy graduate" from Aretuza, meaning her attribute growth must have followed the standard ratio for sorcerers.

By extension…

Not counting the special case of Hen Gedymdeith, both Vera and Tissaia de Vries must have had their Mystery stat exceed 100—likely while their Strength, Agility, and Constitution remained low.

So at the very least, it was clear that the "cap" for Mystery was not 100.

----------------------------

But…

"This isn't just a simple attribute increase." Allen closed his eyes and focused inward.

On his personal status screen, his Mystery stat had stopped rising, yet his body was still undergoing changes.

The mutated organ near his heart was now glowing with an intense red light.

It was… melting.

Dissolving into countless light particles, which were being absorbed into his heart and distributed through his mana channels.

However, the "mana storage" within him didn't vanish completely. Instead, it diffused into various pathways—his entire body had now become a mana vessel, rather than just a single organ.

The mutated organ itself didn't disappear entirely.

After dissolving by nearly half, the intense red glow faded.

Aside from becoming slightly smaller, there seemed to be no other visible changes.

But in that moment, when the red glow completely disappeared—

Allen felt as if he had suddenly broken through the surface of the ocean, lifting his head into the vast sky.

The four elemental forces in his perception sharpened dramatically.

It was as if, all this time, he had been submerged underwater—watching, listening, sensing… but never truly perceiving.

This feeling…

It was as if he had been reborn.

"So… this is what the world looks like through a sorcerer's eyes?"

Allen stood there, momentarily stunned.

The flesh core of the Summoning Ritual had been completely absorbed.

The crackling anomalies faded.

He remained still with his eyes closed for a moment. Then…

----------------------------

"Gwal'a… gwalala… gwagwaga…"

The mystic incantation echoed within the wooden hut.

Soft, glowing blue particles rapidly emerged from the void, converging in Allen's palm.

In just two breaths, an ice spear took shape.

Its tip was razor-sharp, gleaming with a cold, deadly light that sent chills down one's spine. This was a true ice spear—not the small, finger-length icicles he had conjured before.

If he didn't fire it immediately, his five fingers wouldn't even be able to wrap around its shaft. His index and middle fingers couldn't fully close around it.

It was a full-fledged spear, one that could be wielded in battle.

And yet… this still wasn't his limit.

The Ice Spear Spell had a stacking incantation—for every repeated line, the spear's size and thickness would grow.

Allen could tell…

If he kept chanting, he could recreate the Drowner King's original ice spear—the one that was only slightly thinner than his waist. But he didn't continue.

He neither fired the spear nor wielded it.

Instead, he simply stopped chanting—then gently tapped the spear's shaft with his index finger.

"Clatter—"

The massive ice spear instantly shattered into countless blue-glowing ice crystals.

Before they could even touch the ground, they vanished without a trace.

Only the sudden drop in temperature inside the wooden hut and the water droplets forming on the wooden amulets hanging from the ceiling served as evidence of its existence.

----------------------------

"Compared to Signs, the incantation magic I obtained from the Drowner King seems to suit me better now..."

Allen carefully reflected on the sensation of mana surging within him just moments ago—along with the tenfold increase in power of the ice spear.

This incantation magic was fundamentally different from both Signs and traditional spells.

It carried a raw, primal energy.

As long as one had sufficient mana and elemental affinity, its power could be increased without limit.

Whereas Signs and spells—no matter how refined—were inherently capped.

Of course, incantations had their own weaknesses.

At least for now, they were unstable and carried some level of risk.

----------------------------

"My current combat style is still primarily close-range."

Allen pondered.

That's why I haven't been using the Ice Spear Incantation or Mudslide much recently— they don't align well with my current combat system.

The Ice Spear Incantation would alert enemies.

And Mudslide could destroy the terrain—a major disadvantage for a melee fighter who relies on footwork and evasion.

More importantly…

Before Mystery surpassed 100, both incantations were simply too weak.

Their damage output couldn't compare to melee combat enhanced by blade oils and alchemical potions.

But now…

"It seems I need to rethink my combat strategy..."

Allen lowered his head, deep in thought.

It was a troublesome issue—but a good kind of problem to have.

Right now, it was hard to even imagine just how powerful he would become—

A warrior who combined both the Witcher and Sorcerer disciplines.

----------------------------

Of course, creating a new combat system wasn't something that could be done overnight. And with only three or four spells, his Sorcerer abilities were still far from fully developed.

It would take time.

And now wasn't the time to spend hours strategizing.

Allen focused his thoughts and opened his inventory. Soon, he found a mass of swirling mist.

A purple mist, shimmering like a celestial nebula.

An overwhelming desire erupted from within him—

Not just from his mind, but from every fiber of his being.

From every cell.

Every muscle.

It was as if his entire body was desperately craving it. And perhaps because his strength had grown, This desperate yearning had become even stronger.

But this time…

He didn't resist it.

Instead, he let it take its course.

----------------------------

"Ding!"

[Would you like to use @#￥%&'s Element ×1?]

The next second—

The brilliant "nebula" in his inventory vanished abruptly.

At the same time—

Allen instinctively twitched his ears and turned his head toward the wooden wall on his right.

Two familiar footsteps had suddenly entered his perception—

And they were getting closer.

"Vesemir… and Nenneke…"

From the urgency in their steps, Allen immediately realized—

They were coming for him.

"Why does it have to be now, of all times?"

He glanced at his semi-transparent inventory—

The elemental essence had already disappeared.

All he could do now was pray that the process of absorbing "@#￥%&'s Element" wouldn't cause too much of a disturbance.

But…

Was that even possible?

.....

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