Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"...He has white hair and two swords on his back. He came from the north and swept straight down! Like a whirlwind, he had seen countless dirty things on the road, but he did not let them stain his heart. Novigrad is killing innocent people! But that's not what he meant, he's a good man... a special witcher!"

A bard was standing by the side of the road with a wooden box under his feet and a bowl with a lot of krona in it. He was standing there talking impassively, the poet wearing a pompous white feather hat, already slightly stained. He was wearing a dark red uniform, and he looked like a brightly colored rooster.

There were many people around him, listening to his stories, and even a few young girls handed him flowers, just to let him tell more stories about white-headed knights. It was obvious that they liked it very much.

Two travelers squeezed through the crowd, they hurried past, one of them with a black hood didn't even dare to turn his head.

"Let me go..." the witcher groaned in a low voice.

"You are quite welcome."

The black-robed mage laughed at his companion, and the witcher wore a black hood to cover his white hair at this time, and even the two swords were not on his back, but on the sides of the horse. It had been a month or so since they had left Kyle Morhen, and along the way, Geralt had been harassed enough—perhaps a blissful annoyance.

He didn't get those disgusted, despised and even hateful eyes before, nor was he ever pointed at the nose and scolded in the tavern. On the contrary, every time he went to a new town, those who recognized him even sent him wreaths, and some girls even offered him shy kisses.

Geralt admitted that it was really cool at the time, but in retrospect it was not good at all. He complained to He Shenyan in his room in the hotel: "How can I go out to take orders like this? I really don't know which **** gave me the nickname, now everyone calls me a white-headed knight! What a hell!"

"Doesn't it sound good?"

"It sounds good... No, it's not a question of whether it sounds good or not at all."

"Since he sounds nice, why do you react so strongly to this nickname? Could it be that you are shy about it?"

"..."

The witcher fell silent again. He now hates the mage's sharp teeth and sharp mouth very much. He can always hit the dark little thought in the witcher's heart, and he can't refute it. If I could describe it in one sentence, it would be: I am obviously very angry, but I can't find any reason to refute it.

Geralt sighed and tried to change the subject: "So, what are you doing by pulling me out?"

"Go find a poor child." The mage's answer was beyond his expectations. Before he could speak, He Shenyan continued: "I'm not hiding anything from you, Geralt. Besides, I believe you are too. You can see it. The material used for that horse is not from this world, and I am not from this world, so to speak, I will be leaving soon.”

Geralt seemed to have anticipated it long ago. He Shenyan never wanted to hide this since they first met, so he was already mentally prepared.

"But I have a habit, I must finish things, such as the grass trial."

"Stop, stop, stop, what." Geralt couldn't help interrupting him, and the witcher asked in confusion, "I'm not worried about the grass trial, but where are you going to find it? A child? We're not those kidnappers, and I'm sure you wouldn't just find a child on the street to take back."

He Shenyan rolled his eyes: "Of course I don't. Who do you think I am? I used a small prophecy spell last night, that's all. We just need to go all the way south."

"I've never believed much in prophecy."

"I don't really believe it--but considering that I made this prophecy myself, I think it's better for you to believe it."

"yes?"

Geralt became interested: "Would you mind telling me? Or is this prophecy the type that won't come true if it's spoken?"

He Shenyan glanced at him strangely after hearing this: "...What kind of prophets have you met before? Where is there such a rule?"

"Forget it...Listen."

A strange atmosphere began to spread in the hotel room. Geralt's back felt a shudder, his hair stood on end, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw the candles on the table beside him slowly floating.

The mage's eyes turned pitch black, he opened his mouth and let out a silent scream, Geralt heard him say something in a language that was more like noise than language, and miraculously, Geralt Can actually understand.

He said: "In the dark night, the white wolves will meet the young black wolves. They will cross the storm, and they will cross the ocean. The world... the black wolf will be dying~www.novelmt.com~even dying..."

After a shudder, Geralt touched his nose with some discomfort. He was surprised to find that he actually had a nosebleed. He Shenyan looked at the blood on his hand and explained, "That is the necessary price for hearing the prophecy."

"What language did you just say... what language is that?"

The Master looked at him quietly: "Are you sure you really want to know? Learning this language comes at a price."

"Forget it, when I didn't ask." The witcher gave up decisively. He wiped the blood from his nose and asked vaguely, "So, how long will this situation last?"

"Looking at your physique...well, you should be able to recover tonight. Also, my personal advice is that you'd better write down that prophecy, but you'd better not keep it in your heart. Treat it as a. .."

"...think of it as an hourglass. Well, the metaphor is apt. Whether you pay attention or not, it's there, and it will pass quietly, and as time goes on, it will come."

The witcher touched his arms uncomfortably. He said, "Okay...you make me terrified."

"This is exactly what I want, not to impress you. I'm really afraid that you will forget this in 'Love and Flowers' or elsewhere."

"In your heart, I am such a person?"

"I have seen with my own eyes that for every ten kronor you earn, you will spend six on those girls. I have no doubt that if you have a choice, you can even skip meals."

Geralt's face couldn't be hung up, he struggled to the last: "Well, that was last year."

"Ha, let's wait and see." The Master said with a smile.