Make Witcher World Great Again

Markus's decree resounded throughout the conquered lands as he ordered his Lich Generals to mobilize their forces. With ruthless efficiency, the generals summoned legions of undead knights and lesser liches to serve as vigilant security guards, ensuring that no dissent would disrupt the new world order. These spectral soldiers, their eyes glowing with eerie light, patrolled the borders of his dominions, ready to exterminate any who dared oppose his reign.

Under Markus's command, the forces of the undead were reorganized into a formidable military apparatus. The Aen Elle magicians, once fierce adversaries had been reconstituted as hybrids and were now placed under the strict authority of the Lich Generals and Vampire Lords Gates between continents were their primary responsibility. 

Every inch of the realm was methodically secured. Markus had left no loose ends: his orders were absolute, and any disturbance was met with overwhelming force. In the streets of once chaotic cities and on the silent, meticulously maintained battlefields, undead patrols enforced his edicts with chilling precision. The sound of the relentless march of the undead became the new anthem of his empire.

Political dissent and rebellion were swiftly eradicated. The new order, carved out of blood and magic, left little room for old allegiances to resurface. Local elites, once emboldened by feudal pride, now trembled under the watchful eyes of Markus's enforcers. Trade and daily life were monitored by Doom Knights and necromantic overseers, ensuring that every interaction was a testament to his absolute control.

As Markus prepared to depart the Witcher world for a new reality, his final orders were clear: maintain order at any cost. The undead legions were to remain ever vigilant, ready to crush any hint of insurrection. His meticulous restructuring of power had eradicated the old chaos, replacing it with an ironclad regime under his unyielding rule.

With the last vestiges of resistance neutralized and the realm firmly under his control, Markus stepped back to survey the vast empire he had forged. Every street, every building, and every soul within the Witcher world was now a part of his meticulously orchestrated order. In his cold, calculating gaze, there was no doubt: this world was his, and no one would dare disturb the dominion he had built. 

As Markus retreated to his vineyard in Toussaint, his Wraiths bring word that Jaskier better known as Dandelion meandering through the bustling streets of Beauclair, embroiled in his usual misadventures as he flirted with a passing wench at a tavern. The bard's carefree, glib manner had long been a source of amusement for many, but for Markus, it was an time for justice. Fueled by a cold, calculated desire for retribution, Markus resolved that the time had come to curb the bard's unruly nature and repurpose his whore nature to more effective one.

With a perfect display of his reality manipulation, Markus initiated a precise alteration in Dandelion's biology. In a mere moments, the once eloquent and charismatic troubadour found his appearance and physical form irrevocably transformed. No longer did he possess the charm and courtly grace of a renowned poet; instead, his features became exaggerated and comical example of a pornstar in her thirties. His once melodious voice turned slightly hoarse, and his posture changed to reflect his new profession, all serving to reassign him to docks as a prostitute. The transformation was not only physical; Markus ensured that Dandelion's mental faculties were reprogrammed, curbing his natural wit and turning his clever repartee into nothing more than empty, farcical banter. Oh he also added a minor regeneration to the new shore of the docks. After all Jaskier should serve the people of his new empire for the decades to come.

Forced to adapt to his new existence, Dandelion was soon relegated to the docks of Toussaint, where his fate was sealed as the realm's unofficial whore. There, amid the clamor of ships and the salt of the sea, he was compelled to perform endlessly. 

In the midst of the four islands, Markus raised a small, isolated isle that would serve as the epicenter of his new order. A meticulously constructed academy dedicated to both magic and combat. This exclusive institution was envisioned as a melting pot where different races could finally converge under a strict regime of education and discipline. The academy, built with the potent power of Reality Manipulation, featured towering spires of dark stone, labyrinthine corridors, and vast training grounds, all designed to evoke both awe and fear. The Lodge of Sorceresses was designated as the primary faculty for magic classes, ensuring that the ancient arcane wisdom of the Witcher world would be passed on to the academy's diverse student body.

Markus's vision for the academy extended far beyond simple education. He planned rigorous indoctrination programs for every mage who would attend, ensuring that they not only mastered the art of magic but also became steadfast adherents to his new order. Lessons would cover advanced spellcasting techniques, the intricacies of elemental manipulation, and the proper use of dark magic. As for the warrior classes Markus was in need of some personnel at the level of Vesemir. He was planning to make it compulsory to go through "Trial of Grasses" a brutal, transformative ritual adapted from Witcher lore to forge superior witchers. This ritual will first go through multiple layers of examination, research and development first. Markus intended for these courses to strip away any lingering loyalties to the old order, replacing them with an unwavering commitment to his dominion.

To bolster his forces with seasoned veterans, Markus engaged in a conversation with Vesemir, emphasizing the need for more witchers to be integrated into his regime. He cunningly posted a false contract detailing a job for an Ice Giant, knowing that the renowned witcher mentor would take the bait. Eager to prove his worth and secure a new destiny for his order, Vesemir, along with Geralt, embarked on the mission to fulfill the contract on a remote isle in Skellige. Unbeknownst to them, Markus had already prepared a devious trap.

As Vesemir and Geralt arrived on the designated isle to complete the bogus contract, an elaborate trap set by Markus to eliminate Vesemir without alerting the rest of the Witchers. Markus concealed his true intentions until the precise moment of ambush. Hidden in the shadows, he silently observed as the two witchers approached, their guard momentarily lowered by the pretense of a routine mission. He morphed into an Ice Giant form in a secluded area, deliberately ensuring that the transformation remained hidden from Vesemir and Geralt until it was too late for them to react.

In that critical instant, as Vesemir stepped forward to inspect the area, Markus emerged from his concealed position. His towering form, now a manifestation of ruthless power was unleashed in a swift, calculated strike. The sudden appearance caught Vesemir entirely off guard; before he could even draw his sword, Markus's massive fist connected with him, delivering a crushing blow that shattered bones and extinguished the venerable witcher's life in a single, brutal moment. Geralt, witnessing the horrifying end of his mentor, was momentarily paralyzed by shock and grief. Realizing the Ice Giant would take some help to eliminate, he turned and fled, his escape. As he was planning to regroup with Lambert and Eskel. 

Markus's cold, detached method of eliminating Vesemir was a testament to his unyielding ambition and his mastery over deception. The secret contract had been designed to ensure that Vesemir would be killed by a monster, making his assassination both natural and irreversible. As Geralt scrambled to retreat into the dense woodland, the echoes of Vesemir's final moments, a mixture of the witcher's anguished cry and the crushing impact of Ice Giants's blow haunted him, igniting a burning determination to one day exact revenge for the loss of his mentor. Even considering asking the help of Markus.

Markus, raised Vesemir into a towering hybrid, adding another unit of unparalleled potential to his list of summons. This new Vesemir, resplendent with both the wisdom of a seasoned witcher and the enhanced physicality of his reanimated form, would serve as the blueprint for a new era of witchers. His altered physiology, larger and more formidable than his original self, would allow Markus to use and refine the rituals to increase such units.

With meticulous precision, Markus summoned twenty of the new hybrid, each with the perfect replica of Vesemir's knowledge and experience. Their bodies, imbued with the hardened resilience and keen instincts of the Witcher, were destined to become the foundation of a streamlined system to reproduce witchers. He entrusted these formidable units to the care of Yennefer and Ida Emean, tasking them with refining and perfecting the ancient, brutal Trial of the Grasses. A ritual long known for its high mortality rate and chaotic results.

Under the careful supervision of the sorceresses, the trial was reimagined as a precise, alchemical procedure. They developed protocols to extract and purify the mutagens essential to the transformation, reducing the unpredictable side effects while ensuring that only those with the strongest potential survived the ordeal. The revised ritual maintained the core elements of the original process, exposure to a series of rare herbal extracts, potent mutagenic compounds, and rigorous physical conditioning, but was now augmented by arcane enhancements that stabilized the mutations and accelerated the healing process.

To test the efficacy of these new protocols, Markus authorized the use of "willing" prisoners from the empire. Those desperate souls who saw their potential sacrifice as a ticket to an eternal legacy of service. In grim laboratories beneath the shadow of his Vizima palace, these subjects underwent the newly reformed Trial of the Grasses under the watchful eyes of Yennefer and Ida. The process, while still harrowing, was transformed into a systematic and controlled experiment, with each failure and success meticulously recorded to further hone the procedure.

In time, the improved rituals not only ensured a higher survival rate but also produced witchers with enhanced physical and mental acuity, their mutations harmonized by arcane refinement. The new generation of witchers, guided by the hybrid Vesemir and further perfected by the sorceresses, promised a future where the art of witcher creation was no longer a desperate gamble but a finely tuned science. A legacy that Markus intended to impose upon the subjugated world with cold, unyielding efficiency.

For six long, unyielding months, the academy became the dark heart of Markus's dominion. A place where every student of magic and warrior classes was thoroughly indoctrinated into his totalitarian vision. Using arcane and educational tools. In this grim citadel of learning, there was no room for free speech, independent thought, or religious freedom. Every lesson, every lecture, was a tool of subjugation, designed to reshape the minds and wills of its pupils to serve his relentless purpose.

Markus enforced his doctrine with an iron grip. His methods were as brutal as they were meticulous; every word spoken, every dissenting thought, was swiftly eradicated. Surveillance was constant, and even the slightest hint of rebellion was met with overwhelming force. The atmosphere was thick with fear, and every citizen knew that to question Markus was to invite a fate worse than death.

Periodically, a few insolent souls dared to challenge the imposed order, only to be dragged from the streets and publicly executed. In the town squares, Markus's undead minions, a legion of spectral enforcers carried out these gruesome punishments with ruthless precision. The sight of bloodstained cobblestones and silent, still bodies served as a chilling reminder: resistance was not merely futile, it was fatal.

The indoctrination process itself was a calculated blend of dark magic and psychological warfare. Started with students as test subjects, in a short 3 months effects of the permanent subjugation of minds were successful. Thus started the same process with the citizens. They were subjected to rigorous training sessions, which became the new "normal" where their former identities were stripped away, replaced with a cold, unwavering loyalty to Markus. Every lesson was imbued with arcane discipline, every reeducation session a reminder that only through absolute obedience could one survive. The very fabric of their minds was rewoven with his own influence.

At the core of his new order, Markus maintained an elite cadre of 300 units specifically designed to enforce his will. Half of these, 150 Lich Generals, with the power to summon high level undead without interfering with his other summoned forces. The remaining 150 units, Vampire Lords, served as the noble governors of the realm, their eternal vigilance a constant reminder of his dominion over both the living and the dead.

This meticulous reordering of society had profound political ramifications. Under Markus's ruthless control, every aspect of life was subjugated to his vision. Trade, governance, even interpersonal relations were reshaped to align with his dictates. The academy was an investment that, not only to produce obedient soldiers and mages but also instill in them an unbreakable loyalty that would ensure his rule was uncontested. A new order where dissent was obliterated before it could take root.

In the end, the academy stood as a monument to Markus's unyielding authority. Every mind molded within its walls, every soul reprogrammed systematically, contributed to a society. Where freedom was an illusion and obedience was absolute. Through fear and ruthless indoctrination, he had forged a realm where his word was law, setting the stage for a future governed by the relentless, inexorable march of his vision.

At the White Orchard inn, amid the murmurs of travelers and the muted glow of candlelight, Markus encountered Gaunter O'Dimm, the enigmatic Master Mirror, known in hushed tones as the Man of Glass. Clad in an aura of inscrutable charm, Gaunter exuded a presence that defied mortal understanding, his abilities spanning intricate magic, time manipulation, wish granting, and effortless teleportation. His eyes, deep pools of ancient secrets, locked with Markus's in a silent challenge that set the stage for a fateful exchange.

Intrigued by the unfathomable potential before him, Markus engaged Gaunter in a prolonged parley that stretched over three relentless days. Gaunter, ever the wily trickster, attempted to ensnare Markus's soul through a cunning agreement. A contract devised to bind and claim his essence. However, Markus, unyielding in his resolve, turned the tables by extending the discussions, meticulously probing and absorbing every arcane nuance that Gaunter revealed.

Intrigued by the rich potential before him, Markus engaged Gaunter in a prolonged parley that stretched over three relentless days. As the muted lamplight danced across the worn wooden tables of the White Orchard inn, Gaunter leaned forward with a knowing smirk. "My dear sorcerer," he began in a tone dripping with charm and subtle menace, "imagine the heights you might attain if you were to allow me to guide you, power beyond mortal ken, I will even add tidbits of my mastery of time itself." Markus's eyes glinted with cold calculation as he replied, "Empty promises and gilded contracts have ensnared lesser minds. I do not seek the crutch of borrowed power, but rather the truth behind each fragment of magic you offer." The air between them shimmered with arcane tension as each word bore the weight of old pacts and unspoken challenges.

As their dialogue deepened, Gaunter's words grew more enticing. "Perhaps, then, I should reveal secrets that even you might find irresistible," he ventured, his voice smooth as silk yet edged with mischief. "What if I could grant you the ability to twist the very threads of time. Rewrite fate at a mere thought so that all the power of this world might bow to your command?" Markus arched an eyebrow, his tone measured and laced with disdain. "Your temptations are but silver-tongued echoes of promises made to the desperate. I have built my strength through my own will, absorbing every nuance of magic, not by leaning on the empty assurances of a trickster. Tell me, Gaunter, do you truly believe that you can offer more than mere baubles to one who has already mastered the art of destiny?" As the sun was setting, another day was coming to an end. Markus stands and "Let us see if you can snare me in one of those honeytraps Master Mirror" he scoffed as he left the inn.

For a final bid, Gaunter's gaze softened ever so slightly, as if acknowledging the formidable predator before him. "It seems I have met a soul who is no ordinary mage but a force whose hunger for truth and power transcends the petty bargains of this realm," he conceded, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "I could offer you further tidings of might, a glimpse into realms of untold potential if you are willing to risk all in a single, fateful contract." Markus's response was as icy as the void between worlds: "I require no contract to affirm my worth. I take what I need and forge my path in the crucible of reality. Let our exchange stand as testament that not all are fooled by the shimmer of promises." With that, the parley drew to a close, leaving behind the faint echo of their banter and the unspoken understanding that some pacts, no matter how artfully proposed, are destined to be unmade by those who command their own fate.

Throughout those days, an eerie fusion unfolded as Markus systematically copied and integrated Gaunter's skills into his own vast repertoire. In particular, the wish granting power. Stranger and more potent than that of any Djinn, enhanced his reality manipulation, elevating it by two full levels. This seamless integration not only broadened his magical horizons but also reaffirmed his inexorable ascent to supremacy.

On the third day's eve, as the parley reached its zenith, Markus, his gaze steely with calculated ambition, posed the ultimate question: "Can you be killed?" The query hung in the air like a dark omen, a direct challenge to the timeless nature of the Man of Glass. Recognizing the existential threat posed by this relentless predator, Gaunter O'Dimm offered no further resistance. With a cryptic smile and a graceful bow to fate, he chose to withdraw from this reality, leaving behind a legacy of forbidden knowledge and a resounding message that some forces, when confronted by true supremacy, must simply vanish into the shadows.

The Book of the Thousand Fables, with its ancient, cryptic script and myriad illusory narratives, was one of his targets to examine, understand and recreate. Markus, as a seeker of knowledge, spent hours poring over its fragile pages, each fable unfolding a miniature realm where reality was not bound by conventional laws. The book's illustrations shifting, surreal scenes of wonder and terror seemed to beckon him into a labyrinth of infinite possibilities, where every word was a seed that could sprout into a world of its own.

Equally mesmerizing was the Painting at the Von Everec Estate, an artifact of exquisite and unsettling beauty. Beyond its somber hues and ghostly depictions of a bygone era, the painting concealed the power to warp the very fabric of existence. Its spectral imagery, as if imbued with the echoes of lost souls, created a pocket dimension, a liminal space where the boundaries between life and death, hope and despair, dissolved into ethereal mist. This shifting canvas of reality was a mirror to the dark dreams of those who once dwelled within the estate's cursed walls. Markus decided to save Iris Von Everec, though with her sad existence. She will be much happier as one of his "secretaries". With this mind set he destroyed Olgierd, whether his pathetic soul ended up with Gaunter or was sucked by his Soul Vortex was not his concern anymore. 

By meticulously studying these twin relics of aberrant reality, Markus synthesized his understanding of the Book's narrative magic and the Painting's malefic enchantment. He unlocked within him a singular ability: the creation of his own tiny worlds. With this skill, he could construct enclosed, self contained realms, that defied physical limitations and could serve as sanctuaries or strategic arsenals for his vast undead and hybrid forces. In these miniature domains, his armies would thrive unfettered by the constraints of the wider world.

In the quiet aftermath of his relentless conquests, Markus stood atop the highest spire of his darkened palace, gazing over the realm he had so ruthlessly reshaped. Yet as he surveyed the intricate tapestry of magic and necromancy that had secured his dominion, a piercing clarity struck him: despite the boundless power of his arcane mastery, high technology remained an alien frontier, a realm where his strengths found little resonance, despite his origin as a scientist. 

Deep in thought, Markus recalled the myriad battles fought and the countless souls raised from the abyss, each a testament to his unparalleled command of magic and death. His mind, sharpened by relentless pursuit and bloodshed, recognized that while his necromantic arts had redefined the very fabric of this reality, the era of digital innovation and high technology was a realm of weakness, a realm that would undermine his supremacy. With a determined resolve, he concluded that his journey could only continue in a reality more befitting his target of high technology. 

As twilight surrendered to the deep indigo of the approaching night, Markus made his way to the vineyard at Toussaint. As he teleported to one of his underground training rooms he activated the skill World Gate. A luminescent gateway pulsing with innumerable shimmering lights, each a gateway to another reality. The radiant hues danced in an otherworldly display, a cosmic kaleidoscope that beckoned him with promises of untold possibilities. With one final glance back at the world he had so meticulously mastered, Markus stepped forward, vanishing into the swirling vortex, his figure dissolving amidst the spectral lights as he embarked upon a new odyssey beyond the confines of this reality.