Salamandra

1271, Castlevania, Velen

Magic was evolving. The Brotherhood, a relic of a bygone era, had clung to the illusion of control, believing they could tame the wild forces of magic while simultaneously serving the whims of kings. They had attempted to balance political power with magical supremacy, a precarious act that ultimately tore them apart from within. But their demise was not the end of magic. It was, in fact, a necessary step in its progression. Where they had failed, Castlevania would succeed.

With the Brotherhood in ruins, the time had come to claim the remnants of their shattered legacy. Not their outdated laws, not their ineffective councils, but their secrets. Magic was not meant to be confined by the limitations of petty rulers and cowardly scholars. It was meant to be forged into something greater, something that transcended mortal understanding. And the next stage in that evolution was already unfolding within the walls of Castlevania.

1271, Vizima

Salamandra was a volatile force, a rogue organization composed of criminal networks, radical alchemists, and exiled sorcerers, loyal to neither the North nor Nilfgaard. They had always been dangerous, but now, they had crossed a line. It began with the attack on Kaer Morhen – the theft of the outdated Witcher mutagens, the flawed formulas used in the Trial of the Grasses. They sought to mass-produce artificial warriors, a new breed of mutant soldiers, stronger, faster, and utterly obedient.

But their experiments were horrific failures. The human body was not designed to withstand such forced transformations. The streets of Vizima's underbelly became a dumping ground for the bodies of their failed creations, flesh twisted, melted, or mutated into monstrous forms. Salamandra was desperate, and desperation made them vulnerable. They had operated in the shadows for years, but now, they were making mistakes. And that was my opportunity.

1271, Castlevania's Infiltration

My spies had already infiltrated Salamandra's ranks. The organization, blinded by its own ambition, believed itself untouchable, operating in the hidden corners of Vizima, funded by corrupt nobles and alchemists. They had anticipated enemies in the Witchers, in kings, even in the remnants of the Brotherhood. They had not anticipated me.

I allowed Geralt to hunt them, cutting through their ranks, exposing their hideouts. He played his part perfectly, a distraction while Castlevania moved in the shadows. Each time Salamandra's operations were disrupted, my agents were there to claim what remained. Not to stop their experiments, not to destroy their research, but to acquire it for myself. Their laboratories, their flawed formulae, their notes on genetic manipulation and magical augmentation – all of it was valuable. And soon, it would be perfected.

1271, Salamandra's Final Days

Salamandra's downfall was inevitable. They had drawn too much attention, angered too many powerful figures. Foltest's men hunted them. The Witchers, led by Geralt, cut down their leadership. Even the remnants of the Brotherhood, in a final act of desperation, sought to eliminate them before their experiments could spread.

But what none of them realized was that Salamandra's knowledge and resources would not be lost. They would already be mine. I did not need Salamandra to survive. I only needed their work. And when Geralt struck the final blow, when the world believed their twisted research had been destroyed, I would be waiting in the ashes, holding the only surviving copies of their discoveries. And unlike Salamandra, I knew how to use them.

1271, Castlevania, Velen

Salamandra's experiments were indeed failures. Their methods were too impatient, too reckless, too crude. They had seized the outdated mutagens from Kaer Morhen, the flawed formula, believing it was the key to unlocking superhuman potential. They were wrong. But what if they had been smarter? What if they had possessed the time and resources? What if the next step in magical evolution was not to replicate Witchers, but to surpass them?

I took their flawed research and refined it, removing the instabilities, correcting the fatal flaws. What they had tried to build would not only be viable, but unstoppable. The first prototypes were already being developed in Castlevania's hidden laboratories. Not Witchers. Something greater. A new generation of warriors, unchained by bloodlines or tradition, infused with alchemy, magic, and something far older. The world believed Salamandra's failure meant the end of the Witcher experiments. They did not understand that failure is merely a stepping stone. And soon, the world would witness what comes next.

1271, Castlevania

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the chamber in Castlevania. Lytta stood before Solomon, her expression serious and focused.

"The Salamandra situation has reached a critical point," she reported, her voice clear and concise. "Their activities are attracting unwanted attention. Their experiments have become too… visible."

Solomon listened, his expression neutral. "I've received similar reports. Their operations in Vizima are becoming known. Foltest's guards are investigating, and the remnants of the Brotherhood are also showing interest."

"Salamandra's usefulness as a diversion is over," Lytta continued. "They've served their purpose. Now, they're a liability."

"Their research," Solomon asked, "what has it yielded?"

"Their methods were flawed," Lytta explained. "Their attempts to replicate the Witcher mutations were… unsuccessful. They used the outdated mutagens from Kaer Morhen, thinking they had the complete formula. They were wrong."

"They were too ambitious," Solomon observed. "They sought power too quickly, without the proper foundation."

"And their haste led to mistakes," Lytta added. "They sacrificed precision for speed. Their experiments have been… messy. But their failures have given us valuable data. Their mistakes have shown us what not to do."

"Geralt of Rivia has been… helpful in containing them," Solomon noted. "His pursuit of Salamandra has kept them occupied."

"He's been effective," Lytta agreed. "He believes he's acting on his own, but he's playing his part in a larger picture."

"The attack on their main laboratory is scheduled," Solomon stated. "The objective is to secure all remaining research, notes, and equipment. Everything."

"The operation is ready," Lytta confirmed. "Our agents are in place. They will retrieve Salamandra's research."

"Ensure that nothing falls into the wrong hands," Solomon instructed. "Foltest's men, the Witchers, the Brotherhood… they must believe Salamandra's work is destroyed."

"That will be arranged," Lytta replied.

"Geralt will likely be involved in their takedown," Solomon said. "He's… persistent."

"He'll be… occupied with the cleanup," Lytta confirmed. "He'll continue to pursue any remaining Salamandra cells, believing he's finishing the job."

"And when Salamandra is gone," Solomon asked, "what will the world think?"

Lytta paused briefly. "The world will see Salamandra as a defeated threat. They will be relieved. They won't see… our involvement. They won't see… us."

(Adding conversation)

Later, in a more private chamber of Castlevania, Lytta and Solomon discussed the broader implications.

"The Salamandra situation was… messy," Lytta commented, reviewing reports on the operation. "Their experiments were crude, their security lax."

"Indeed," Solomon agreed. "They were blinded by ambition, consumed by their desire for power. A predictable outcome."

"Geralt served his purpose," Lytta noted. "His pursuit of Salamandra kept them focused, distracted from our own activities."

"He is a useful tool," Solomon said. "A force of nature, guided by his own sense of justice. He does not yet understand the larger game."

"The research we recovered," Lytta continued, "it's… promising. Their attempts to replicate the Witcher mutations were flawed, but their notes on genetic manipulation… they are invaluable."

"Their failures are our stepping stones," Solomon affirmed. "They stumbled upon something significant, but lacked the vision to see its true potential."

"The prototypes are progressing well," Lytta reported. "Their strength, their resilience… it surpasses even the Witchers."

"As it should," Solomon said, a hint of steel in his voice. "We are not simply recreating what has come before. We are forging something new, something… superior."

"And what of the… other matters?" Lytta asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

Solomon nodded. "The preparations are in place. The pieces are moving according to plan. The world is ripe for the taking."

"The Brotherhood's fall was… fortuitous," Lytta observed. "Their power, their influence… it was an obstacle. Now, they are scattered, weakened, easily manipulated."

"Their arrogance was their undoing," Solomon said. "They believed they were untouchable, that they controlled the flow of magic. They failed to see the true power that was rising in the shadows."

"And what of the… future?" Lytta inquired.

Solomon smiled, a chillingly confident expression. "The future," he said, "belongs to those who are willing to seize it. And we… we are ready."