Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

The journey was pleasant.

Horseback riding is the most common way to travel in this era. Although it is much more comfortable than walking, the inner thighs and buttocks of the rider also have to bear a certain degree of suffering.

To this end, a good point saddle is indispensable. After He Shenyan cast a spell to solve this problem, Geralt was surprised to find that riding a horse had become a kind of enjoyment. He doesn't have to feel the pain in his **** anymore.

"Magic is so convenient," the witcher sighed.

"Do you want to learn?" the mage asked from the horse.

"what?"

"Do you want to learn?" He Shenyan repeated. "Considering your affinity for magic and the proficiency you have accumulated over the years through spell casting, you should be able to make a good mage if you want, Geralt."

"Well..." The witcher pretended to think for a while, until now, he still thought He Shenyan was joking. "Will you let me take the test or something?"

"certainly."

"Then I won't study."

The mage rolled his eyes, turned his head and complained to Regis, "Some people just don't know what they're missing."

The morning mist covered the sky with a thin layer of gauze, making it seem so ethereal. A few hard-to-see black dots streaked across the sky, and their horses walked across the forest path, rubbing their legs and tails over the wet leaves, sweeping the morning dew down. Some birds were chirping, some animal crept into the forest behind them, and there were shuffling footsteps.

He Shenyan turned a page of the book in his hand, but the corner of his eye was focused on the scene in the forest. After reading for a while, he simply put the book away. With such a scene in front of me, it would be somewhat impolite to read a book.

Their first stop was Soden, which was once an old independent kingdom, but, with the passage of time, it became a vassal of Temeria. The country is interesting because it is not a whole, but is divided into Upper Soden and Lower Soden across a river.

It is bordered by many other countries, one of which is Sintra.

Geralt was the one who led the way, he traveled the world and knew all the places. Take this road as an example, he has walked no less than ten times. Geralt recalled in his head, calculated the distance, and finally, he came to a conclusion.

"We should be in Lower Soden before six o'clock tonight, there's a fairly civilized city called Amelia. I remember there was a very good stew in the city, and the boss could always cook it. Very soft."

The witcher babbled, his voice echoing in the woods, and the trees communicated to each other, carrying his voice far away: "It's not a peaceful place, though."

"Oh?" He Shenyan became interested. "To give you this kind of evaluation, is it possible that the residents of that city are more violent than those scoundrels who chase you away with pitchforks if they don't give you money?"

"You can't say that either." Geralt shook his head as he sat on the horse. "Most people are honest, but the security situation in that city is not very good. There are a lot of gangs."

Regis also interjected: "Does their mayor care?"

"I don't know." Geralt spread his hands. "Looking at the worst, maybe the mayor has already been bought by them, or he himself is the umbrella behind these people."

As they moved on, a creek that Geralt could not remember had inexplicably appeared in the middle of the road. Crystal clear, you can even see pebbles on the riverbed. Nonetheless, not half a fish was swimming in it. The witcher frowned as his wolf head pendant began to vibrate wildly.

Geralt shrank, trying to warn the remaining two. But he forgot that neither of the two needed his prompting - Regis jumped off his horse in an instant, and even carried his horse to a big tree on the other side with a very relaxed expression. The horse didn't even realize what was going on.

As for the mage, he didn't even bother to move his fingers, and just a glance stopped the incoming thorns, they stopped in mid-air, unable to move. The front end of the wooden thorns shone with a purple magic light.

"Once."

Geralt drew his steel sword with a gloomy face. There were a few bird calls from the woods, but it was extremely mournful. Immediately afterwards, the sound of flapping wings sounded frantically, and a large group of crows with scarlet eyes began to descend from the sky from nowhere. The target was Geralt.

The witcher didn't dodge or dodge, he knew he wasn't fighting alone.

The development of things did not exceed his expectations, and Geralt heard a slight snap of fingers amid the shrill cries of the crows and their rushing sounds.

The next second, the red light is in full bloom.

Coming from nowhere, like nowhere to be found, they burned every crow to ashes with unparalleled ferocity. The ashes fell from the sky and fell on the witcher. He danced a sword flower lightly, and accurately found a dagger stabbing at him in the dust.

"clang-!"

The attacker missed a hit and immediately wanted to flee. Geralt squeezed the Alpha Seal with his backhand, and his psychic power exploded with all his strength, pushing him to the ground. At the same time, a dark shadow swept past him, lightly bringing the restless radish to the open space on the side. Immediately afterwards, he appeared beside the attacker.

It was Regis.

The old vampire's expression was not very good-looking, and he was obviously angry at the incident of being attacked on the road. He kicked the attacker's wrist and kicked the dagger he was clenching into the air. He just landed at the feet of He Shenyan who dismounted.

The mage picked up the dagger, looked at it carefully, and suddenly let out an interesting snort.

It was an animal bone dagger, made of rough, no bright spots. But there was a curse of resentment wrapped around it that made him all look sideways. The quality of this curse is not very good, but it is composed of different resentments one after another.

In other words, a lot.

"Regis, don't kill him yet."

Hearing this, the vampire released the foot that was about to smash the attacker's neck, but he was suppressed and unable to move. Geralt patted the dust on his shoulders sullenly, fluttered his white hair, and walked to the attacker's side, frowning deeper and deeper.

"This kid looks underage..."

The witcher squatted down, looked at him gloomily and said, the latter was not convinced, and there were words in his mouth, mostly cursing words, which made Geralt slap him with a backhand.

"Speak respectfully, boy, didn't your parents teach you how to speak normally?"

"Mutant freak!" The underage child stared at the witcher with red eyes. "You and your companions are all going to die here! You've violated the territory of Zoran Akh Terra's followers, and you all have to—"

Before he could finish his words, a huge force from out of nowhere crushed his vocal cords so that he could no longer speak.

He Shenyan came behind Geralt and played with the animal bone dagger in his hand. He said, "This dagger is interesting, gentlemen. Besides, what is this Zoran Ah Tera?"

He looked down at the child who was struggling and looked at him with hatred, and suddenly smiled at him.

"Why don't you tell me." The mage said softly.

The damaged vocal cords began to function again, not in their healed form, but in their broken form. The child opened his mouth uncontrollably, his tongue stuck out, and the fluent Common Tongue continued from his mouth. Although his voice was harsh and hoarse, it was enough for the three of them to hear what he was saying.

They were all satisfied, only the young attacker fell into fear. His education left him completely unaware of what was going on at this time. The priests said he was under the care of Zoran Akh Tra and was born with the ability to cast spells, so it was his responsibility to kill all who passed by.

He did as they asked, but—

Wasn't he the one to be cared for? His body belonged to Zoran Ahe Terra, why would he speak against his will at this time?

The eastern man seemed to know what he was thinking, bowed his head and gave him a gentle smile, and said to him in a rather relaxed and natural tone: "Because your **** doesn't exist at all, child. I wish you all the best in your next life. Be a good person."

His consciousness fell into darkness.

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

"Ah, hell."

The expression on Geralt's face can only be described as bad luck.

Zoran Akh Terra, also known as the lion-faced spider, is a standard cult for those who believe in it. This sect has always offered **** sacrifices to their made-up, cruel gods, and the priestesses of Zoran Akh Terra are also known for their powerful curses.

Admirers of Zoran Ahe Terra regard it as the "Great Weaver" who weaves the fate of mankind into a vast web.

This web is constantly being expanded, being constantly sitting and changing. Some lines break, and some people die suddenly. And when someone self-severes, his line breaks, and he's swallowed by Zoran Akh Tra. As such, it is worshipped as the **** of undead death. Its temples are usually lit with green fires filled with human skeletons.

In reality, however, this sect was nothing more than a cult created in 1161 by a merchant named Ambrosio in Lloreto and eight others who had been bewitched by him.

This belief is banned throughout much of the world, as the sect seeks human sacrifice and is hunted down as soon as it emerges. However, they obviously learned a lot after being taught, and built temples outside towns, in forests, swamps or valleys.

Worth mentioning because of their bad reputation. Even the poorest mothers refuse to sell their children to lion-faced cultists, who often choose to abduct children or steal babies and bring them back to church to be raised as lion-faced spiders' future servants.

Geralt looked at the dead child's body and sighed.

He's a natural spellcaster who could have had a better life, but was brought here by those **** idiots to slaughter passersby...

What the **** is going on in this world?