Chapter 133: Blood on the Stone Bridge

Dagong’s altar was impossible to miss.

Building a temple upon the very island where the Lady of the Lake resided had always been part of the containment itself.

The structure stood upon a shallow stretch of water, a stone temple raised atop broad slabs of rock. A thin layer of water covered the floor, lotus blossoms and broad leaves drifting lazily across the surface. At first glance, the atmosphere felt tranquil, almost refreshing, nothing like the lair of an evil god.

Yet for some reason, Lannor could instinctively sense it.

Beneath that clean stillness, beyond the shallows and out into the depths of the lake, lay the true face of this place.

Darkness.

Bottomless darkness.

His heartbeat gradually deepened, each thud heavier than the last. His breathing slowed and thickened. The Gene Seed had already detected the emotional changes running through his body and begun adjusting every organ system toward optimal combat rhythm.

Lannor reached toward the Alchemy Sack at his lower back and withdrew several potions in succession.

The familiar Thunderbolt and Blizzard were naturally among them. The newest addition, however, was his modified version of Maribor Forest.

Its accelerated restoration of bodily vitality did more than simply stave off exhaustion. It drastically shortened the magical fatigue that followed the use of Signs.

A witcher’s magic had always been tied directly to the body itself.

For someone like Lannor, who could already force himself into consecutive Sign casting under normal conditions, the potion would allow him to rapidly enter a second round of double-casting Signs.

Originally, he had also intended to drink a bottle of Patrice’s Potion to temporarily amplify the strength of his Signs.

But in the end, he was still only a witcher carrying a Gene Seed, not one of the fully matured Space Marines.

The increased poison tolerance granted by the Gene Seed simply could not support another strong potion.

And he still had no idea what form this battle would ultimately take. The last thing he wanted was to begin already half-consumed by toxicity.

His throat worked heavily as medicinal compounds and poison alike slid into his stomach, dissolved into his blood, and spread through his veins.

Color drained from his cheeks.

Darkness pooled beneath his eyes, half-hidden beneath silver-white hair.