"It's almost there, we should be able to reach our destination before dark."

The man squinted his eyes and raised his head, revealing a somewhat hideous-looking face, a scar that spread from the corner of his mouth to the base of his ear, a face that would make his client hesitate again and again as he carried out his task.

After all, most of the time people like to judge people by their appearance and categorize them accordingly.

At the end of the forest, a wide valley stretches in front of you, and the boulders scattered at the bottom of the valley spread all the way to the steep slope on the other side.

The river of white rocks flows through the middle of the valley, foam floating on boulders and logs drifting down the river.

It's getting colder and the wind is getting stronger, and in the mountains, it means a storm coming.

"Kyle Mohan is already close." He repeated it again, looking back at his companion behind him.

As always, he didn't see any expression of concern on the other party's face.

In fact, most witchers show their sense of alienation by showing a cold face when they are out on a mission.

But for some reason, he always felt that the man in front of him was different from most witchers.

But he couldn't say the specifics.

A kind of indifference or condescending?

Or is it just plain confident?

The man nodded, and then his tense face suddenly disintegrated, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"Eskar, should I hunt a bear as a preparation for this winter, or as a gift for my first visit?"

"Oh, there's no need for that, Roger."

The corners of Eskar's mouth twitched, and he was obviously about to squeeze out a smile, but the slight change in the expression on his face made the hideous scar even more conspicuous.

In the howling wind, his whole person was a little more fierce.

"You don't come from Kylemohan, but trust me, everyone here will treat you the way I do." As he spoke, he pointed to his eyes.

"We're all the same."

"Besides, to be honest, there aren't many living witchers these days."

"Except for a certain guy, most people are friendly." Finally, Eskar muttered again.

Roger smiled, not asking who Eskar's mouth was, he looked up at the sky in the distance, and began to look forward to that special place.

Time in the wizarding world has been restarted, and everything that happened in the past cannot be changed, and those who live in this world are not aware of what happened in the entire plane.

They could only see the sky in the distance and feel the earth under their feet, and for Roger, coming here was more about turning that untouchable dream into reality.

He wanted to walk on this road himself and feel the atmosphere of this place.

In addition, there are still two "companions" obsession left in him.

Ophelia and Nacello.

The trail widens and crosses a ravine into a valley with a wide depression and forests spreading among the jagged rocks.

It didn't take long for the surrounding terrain to open up, and they followed the stream at the bottom of the valley. After a few minutes of following the stream, they crossed another valley and climbed up a semicircular hillside.

There, then, Roger saw Kylemohan with his back to a steep rock wall.

Or rather, its ruins.

Half of the trapezoidal walls were demolished, the remnants of the outer fort and gates, and the rough and sturdy main castle building.

"It wasn't like that a long time ago." Eskar said suddenly.

"There were a lot of people here, the training was brutal, and a lot of people fell down or went crazy, but there was a lot of hope."

"Because every once in a while a new Witcher joins our ranks, we can't help it...... Leaving behind the bloodline, and those apprentices represent our legacy. ”

"But now ......," Eskar shook his head and walked forward.

Roger followed him, walking across the last remaining bridge in the moat, it was already dark, but it didn't affect Roger's vision.

He looked down and saw the dry bones scattered at the bottom of the river, densely packed, filling almost the entire ravine.

An iron-clad lattice appeared in front of him, and behind the worn iron door was a dark corridor, when a deep voice sounded.

"Welcome back, Eskar."

After a slight pause, the voice suddenly became sharp.

"Who's with you?"

As he spoke, Roger also felt a pair of sharp eyes in the darkness lock him firmly.

"He's Roger from the North, and he's the same as us, and he's wintering here for the first time this year."

Eskar took a half-step forward, blocking the piercing gaze.

"North?"

"There are still ...... in the north"

"Shut up, Lambert, you should at least open the door and let us in, it's getting colder, and besides, Roger is our companion."

"And not so long ago, he saved my life!" Eskar accentuated his tone slightly.

"Heh......" Lambert muttered casually, and even though he was standing in the shadows, Roger could see Lambert's face clearly.

There was a shallow scar on his cheek, but it wasn't as hideous as Eskar, but the guy's appearance was hard to like.

The bitterness in his bones was completely engraved on his face, and it seemed that as long as he opened his mouth, these emotional things would be spit out overwhelmingly.

Lambert, Roger smiled, in his memory, it was a really difficult guy.

The person is nice, the mouth is very smelly.

This should be the most accurate summary of him.

"Are you the only one back?"

The creaking iron door slowly opened, and Eskar asked casually.

"And Viselmir, who comes back every year, but we are the only ones left."

"Where's Geralt?"

Eskar raised an eyebrow.

"Hell, Geralt of Rivia, he's probably more famous now than all the remaining witchers combined."

Lambert replied in a strange way, and Roger could hear the emotion in the other person's tone, but it was not sarcasm or jealousy, but a special kind of laughter between his companions.

"It's not time yet, I was going to introduce you to you." Eskar glanced back at Roger, then looked up at the sky.

"It's getting colder, there may be a blizzard soon, and if you don't see him for these two days, then Geralt probably won't be back this year."

The two walked side by side into Kylemohan.

Inside, Roger feels even more desolate in the ruins of this place, which was once a huge fortress-like castle, but now in addition to the broken walls, the former prosperity has also disappeared into the years.

Then Roger saw a tall, sturdy old man dressed in witcher's equipment, and every furrow on his face seemed to correspond to the ruins of the castle.

This is a witcher who is perhaps older than Kellmohan.

Viselmir.

"Welcome to Kylemohan, my friend."

"I've been longing for a long time." Roger replied with a smile.

"I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."

"No, the reason why Kyle Mohan is Kyle Mohan is not those big rocks that are built on the outside."

"It's going to get better."

Roger let out a breath, and an inexplicable sense of stability welled up in his heart.