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TWL Chapter 510: Final
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 01:53:34 +0000 UTCLann then turned to Letho. “And your side of things?”
Letho had been leading all the members of the Viper School in the South, tasked with sweeping the area around the City of Golden Towers, searching for any surviving Aen Elle elves who might have escaped the earlier battle.
Given that the Viper School was founded on a doctrine of opposing the Wild Hunt, they were more than willing to deal with those Aen Elle who had once been nurtured and protected by it.
“We cleaned house thoroughly—no survivors left,” Letho said, though there was a trace of disappointment in his voice. “Your Griffin Knights really are a force to be reckoned with.”
Lann laughed heartily.
“But…” Letho’s tone suddenly shifted. “We did come across other Aen Elle. Ones who arrived through the latest Conjunction.”
Lann’s expression grew serious. “Did you kill them?”
Letho shook his head. “No. But she still died—and that’s the second thing I wanted to report.”
“There are quite a few civilian groups in the South now, hunting monsters on their own terms. Their methods differ a lot from ours.”
“The Aen Elle I encountered wasn’t a warrior. She seemed to be an herbalist of some sort—and she had fallen in love with a werewolf,” Letho began, telling a story as explosive as those from the first generation of Elder Blood.
“The werewolf was a mercenary who’d lost his daughter in the war. He couldn’t accept her death and had deluded himself into believing she’d only gone missing.”
“When we were tracking the Aen Elle woman, we encountered the werewolf. We helped him come to terms with the truth. That Aen Elle herbalist also contributed throughout the whole ordeal.”
“She was willing to stay behind and submit to your judgment for the sake of the werewolf she loved—hoping for even a sliver of mercy. So we decided to temporarily settle them in a nearby village while waiting for your decision.”
Letho’s face grew somber. “But then the villagers discovered the werewolf’s true identity. They killed him—and the Aen Elle woman along with him. By the time we got there, it was already too late.”
The Viper School members were clearly disheartened, their usual sharp energy dulled. The rest of the witchers around the table wore similarly heavy expressions.
In their long lives, many had encountered werewolves, dopplers, and other non-humans who were genuinely kindhearted—some even actively helpful. And time and again, those same beings were slaughtered by frightened, hateful villagers.
Some of them had even died at the hands of people they had once protected.
Lann gave a quiet nod.
“I understand. I’ll issue new decrees to try and regulate such actions… It won’t be easy. Enforcement will take time.”
“But it’s better than doing nothing,” Letho agreed.
...
And with that, the report from the Viper School came to an end.
“Anything else to report?”
Hearing Lann’s question, Lambert immediately sprang to his feet and raised his right hand.
“I have a proposal!”
Lann raised an eyebrow.
As expected, the next words out of the ever-flippant witcher’s mouth made Vesemir cover his face.
“I think we should build a tavern outside our castle—just for witchers and visiting envoys from other nations to use.”
Lambert’s face was practically glowing with enthusiasm.
“They could even post contracts right there in the tavern—don’t you think ‘tavern’ and ‘contract’ go perfectly together?”
...
No one responded to Lambert.
Lann took a deep breath and scanned the room. Every witcher present knew that the real topic of this council was about to begin.
“I intend to once again expand the recruitment of apprentices—this time covering every region of the Continent, including the South.”
As Lann looked around at the witchers’ faces, all of them seemed to silently say: Of course you do.
Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Lann had proposed or implemented an apprentice expansion plan.
And clearly, they had thoughts about it.
The witchers exchanged glances for a long while, each hesitating until eventually Jerome spoke, his tone filled with concern.
“In principle, we have no objections. With the monster population rising after the Conjunction, we do need more hands.”
“But we know that’s not your only reason.” Jerome’s expression grew serious. “The South still hasn’t fully stabilized. There are countless issues that demand both manpower and resources. Yet in this situation, you’re still allocating funds to train new apprentices…”
“Lann, be honest. Isn’t it also because you value the way these apprentices strengthen your power?”
By now, all the witchers were familiar with how Lann’s “Pride” operated.
Those imbued with Elder Blood—members of Lann’s Pride—could grow stronger by eliminating evil. That much was no longer a secret.
And Lann himself had experienced explosive growth through this process, something that hadn’t escaped the notice of those closest to him.
“We’re not condemning it,” Jerome added. “It benefits the apprentices too. But…”
He hesitated, then said with sincere concern, “We’re worried you might be becoming… addicted to it.”
“You’re already the strongest man in history, Lann. Not even Alzur could match you. Why keep chasing more power?”
But Lann didn’t react with defensiveness. On the contrary, he seemed touched.
He chuckled softly and shook his head.
“Not enough, Master. My strength still isn’t enough.”
“You’ve nearly unified the Continent. The Aen Elle from other realms are no longer a threat. What do you need more power for?”
Jerome pressed further.
“Are you planning to cross the Dragon Mountains to invade Zerrikania? Or sail across the seas to conquer Ofir?”
“If I have time someday, Zerrikania and Ofir might not be off the table,” Lann replied with mock seriousness.
“But none of that is the point, Master.”
Lann looked at Jerome, then turned to scan the round table and the witchers seated around it.
“My name carries many titles. Every time a herald announces me at a diplomatic gathering, they have to recite a whole list.”
He smirked.
“‘Lion King of Cintra,’ ‘Dragon Slayer,’ ‘Sword of Dawn’… blah blah blah. I know some of you can’t help but laugh when you hear it.”
“But among all those titles, the most important one is—‘Heir to the Elder Blood.’”
Lann spread his arms toward the gathered witchers.
“To be honest, aside from restoring Cintra—which was something I truly wanted to do—pacifying the North, waging war in the South, defeating the Wild Hunt… none of that was ever what I sought.”
“I didn’t want to do those things. But their chaos interfered with my real purpose—kept me from facing my true enemy. So I had no choice but to eliminate those obstacles first.”
“In truth, it’s only now that my real battle begins.”
He reached out and took Ciri’s hand.
Then he spoke the name from prophecy:
“My true enemy is—the White Frost.”
“A force powerful enough to destroy the world. And to confront it, I need an equal and opposite force—one capable of saving the world.”
Lann looked at them all with earnest eyes.
“My strength is still far from enough.”
...
June 13, 1270 — The Northern Kingdoms officially declared the transformation of the former Unified Northern Military Alliance into the Northern Political-Military Alliance, with Cintra remaining the core nation.
From this point on, all official documents began referring to Lann by the title “King of the North.”
June 18, 1270 — The various southern vassal states and provinces consolidated once more, abandoning the name Nilfgaard and retaining only the original City of Golden Towers as the Nilfgaardian Province.
The new state name became: The Empire of Cintra.
July 1, 1270 — With the strong backing of Emperor Lann of Cintra, the “Witcher Act” was implemented across the southern provinces, and recruitment for witcher apprentices resumed.
August 1, 1270 — A peaceful transition of power completed across the North. All kingdoms voluntarily became vassal states or provinces under the Cintran Empire.
October 1, 1270 — The third expansion of witcher apprentice recruitment was enacted.
March 1, 1271 — The fourth expansion of witcher apprentices took place.
May 1, 1271 — Belleteyn Festival. The one-year anniversary of Emperor Lann’s coronation and his marriage to Queen Ciri.
...
Lann took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the flickering numbers on the panel before him, his expression thoughtful.
Moonlight drifted gently through the window, casting a pale glow across Ciri’s back. Her skin was finer than the light itself, luminous and delicate.
The breeze stirred the gauzy curtains, revealing faint glimpses of towering bonfires in the capital below—men and women dancing joyfully around the flames, celebrating the union of their Lion King and his Lioness.
“You’re spacing out again?”
Ciri’s hazy gaze sharpened suddenly, her teeth clenched as she glared at Lann.
“Even if your body’s been enhanced by Elder Blood… you can’t just half-ass me like that!”
Face flushed red, Ciri slammed a fist against Lann’s muscular chest—only to be bounced back by his steel-like skin, recoiling with a grimace of pain.
Of course, that expression of gritted teeth might’ve had… other causes, too.
Lann burst into laughter.
...
The flames across the city soared ever higher, until their glow merged with the breaking light of dawn on the horizon.
Lann stepped onto the balcony, absently rubbing his fingertips as he recalled that smooth, silken sensation, and let out a long sigh.
He really had been distracted just now.
Because of the White Frost.
All this time, even as his power grew and grew, he had made no progress toward solving the one true world-ending threat looming ahead. Not even the faintest clue.
The original work left considerable blanks when it came to how the White Frost could actually be defeated—any detailed methods were merely glossed over.
Just how was Elder Blood supposed to stand against the White Frost?
Was it about slaying some apocalyptic monster? Negotiating terms with the avatar of some great cosmic being? Or perhaps sealing off the source spewing endless frost?
Lann had no idea. And that uncertainty gnawed at him—so much so that he nearly provoked Ciri's ire.
For some time now, he had ordered sorcerers and historians to scour ancient texts, analyzing the Elder Blood prophecies from every conceivable angle. But all their efforts had turned up nothing.
This was a world-ending crisis, after all—and it was getting closer every day.
With the power he now possessed, Lann could’ve easily followed the path the elves once took: abandoning this world with those he held dear to seek refuge in another.
That was, in fact, why dryads, vampires, succubus, and others had sworn loyalty to him—to escape extinction.
But Lann wanted more.
If there was even the slightest chance… he wanted to save this world too.
That was why he kept pushing his strength to greater heights, why he continued drilling his armies.
And now, since none of the known records from elves, humans, or other elder races had revealed the answers he sought—
There was only one option left.
“Tch… really didn’t wanna see him again.” Lann sighed and tilted his head toward the stars, and in the blur of the cosmos, a second pair of eyes seemed to stare back at him.
...
Back in the bedroom, Ciri lay limp beneath the sheets, the breeze lifting the gauze curtain to brush softly across her back.
Lann made his final decision.
He pressed a gentle kiss to his wife’s forehead.
Then turned and entered his study. Sitting cross-legged, emerald light began to glow from his body.
His consciousness sank inward, into the system.
[Dimensional Travel] — Activated.
...
No more rituals. No more gateways.
In that instant, it felt as though a mountain's worth of pressure had been lifted from Lann’s shoulders.
His consciousness soared into the brilliant starry sky.
He looked around.
The immense energy within him surged upward as though it had finally found an outlet, and countless stars across the firmament ignited in his view.
Though separated by countless light-years, the sights within each of those stars appeared instantly before him—nearer than arm’s reach, flashing past like an accelerated slide show.
Steel-clad vehicles cutting through wastelands. Warriors who used roars as weapons rampaging across battlefields. Hunters in bizarre armor dancing between monster fangs…
World after world unfolded before Lann’s eyes.
Each of them reached out toward him—pulling, pleading, even demanding.
And then a familiar, delighted voice rang beside his ear.
“Ha! Lann!”
He turned—and found himself looking at that ever-smiling merchant.
Same vagabond garb as always, buzz-cut hair for convenience, and a loose, long-sleeved brown linen tunic.
One satchel slung across each shoulder, with parchment scrolls poking from both—radiating an aura so oppressive it seemed to warp the air around them.
He strode across the starlight, arms open wide in exuberant welcome.
“Lann! You’ve finally come!”
There was an uncontainable joy in his voice.
Lann inhaled deeply, just about to speak—
—but the man raised a hand to silence him.
The Man of Glass looked Lann up and down as though admiring a piece of fine art. His voice was thick with emotion, as if reciting poetry.
“What took you so long? What delayed you?”
“No, no—don’t speak just yet. You’re not strong enough to waste words. We’ll need that energy for the next world.”
“I’m not heading to the next world,” Lann said coldly.
And just like that—he spoke.
A flicker of disappointment crossed Master Mirror’s face.
“You’re still as disobedient as ever… Fine.”
As if everything before had been merely a welcome gesture, Master Mirror’s exuberance quickly faded. His wild gestures settled as he crossed his arms neatly over his chest, his expression hovering between a smile and a smirk.
“I know what you’re after. I know everything. And I can give you the answer you seek.”
“But you also know—I have my rules. Rules even I don’t break.”
Lann let out a long sigh. “I know.”
“And more importantly, you’re in no position to ask me for anything—because you still owe me a favor. Remember that?”
Lann sighed again. “I remember.”
“So then?”
The Master of Mirrors spread his hands, motioning lightly toward himself, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Another long sigh escaped Lann.
“We travelers should help each other. You helped me, so I should help you too. That’s only fair, right?” Lann’s gaze met his, and a trace of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
“That’s right, Lann. Exactly right.”
“You did save me. Regardless of your methods, I owe you. I should repay you.” Lann shook his head slightly. “But your way of doing things has always been… unsettling.”
“You’ve misunderstood me, Lann,” the Master replied earnestly. “That applies to them. You’re different.”
“...That doesn’t reassure me in the slightest.”
Lann glanced back toward his own world, the dim, misty astral plane cradling the Continent like a sleeping child.
“So then—before I get what I came for, how do I repay you and settle my debt?”
The curve of Master Mirror’s smile deepened, his gaze gleaming with growing delight.
“We’ve had some misunderstandings—but that’s alright. We have all the time in the world. In this endless cosmos, you and I… we’re the only ones alike. The only ones who truly understand each other. The only ones who can speak the same language.”
“So first—you must earn my true friendship. Become someone who stands at my side, Lann.”
He emphasized the word true with deliberate weight.
“You have talent, and I believe we’ll get along just fine.”
“As always, you know how I work. I like to make contracts—but there are always those who break them.”
“So, you’ll go into those new worlds for me… and collect my debts. After that, whatever you choose to do with those worlds is none of my concern.”
“Trust me—on this journey of ours, you may well stumble across the answer you’ve been searching for.”
“After all…”
The Master of Mirrors turned, arms stretched wide toward the shimmering expanse of stars.
“This infinite cosmos holds infinite possibilities!”
From behind him, Lann looked out across the starlit sky—countless tiny lights that seemed to fall into Master Mirror’s embrace, as if the whole of the heavens belonged to him.
And then Lann reached forward, fingers curling inward.
A single spark drifted out from that celestial cradle and settled between his fingertips—now his to claim.
“Well then, Lann?”
Lann—the golden-haired Lion King, the witcher.
He took a deep breath, gazed at the light in his hand, and spoke slowly: “To fulfill your contract… and save my world.”
“Let’s begin with this one.”
