Perhaps because of her former divine role as the God of Temperature, this incomplete Entropy Divine Position did not reject Tycha.
The authority of Entropy was enough to elevate Tycha to the position of a Creation God, assuming this divine position were intact. The missing part was not far off, it was the white frost that carried the aura of deathly stillness!
Tycha did not believe the World Consciousness was unaware of the preciousness of this divine position. Even in its incomplete state, its value far surpassed that of the World Tree and the Magic Net.
Considering this, either this divine position was no longer of much use to the World Consciousness, or there was trouble behind this divine position that even the World Consciousness could not handle, which was another tactic of diverting disaster!
Tycha was not entirely sure if it was the former or the latter, or both; but what had entered her mouth could not be spat out. Tycha planned to cling tightly to this world, as in either case, she would have a scapegoat.
The Magic Net expanded, devouring chaotic energy to strengthen itself, adding another layer of insurance to Tycha's plan of seeking protection.
Since the World Consciousness could so easily offer the Entropy Divine Position, it must have many more good things like it, otherwise it wouldn't have agreed to the deal so readily. Tycha's covetousness was piqued, and she prepared to see if there were any more opportunities to profit.
The World Consciousness, which had once again fallen silent, did not prevent the Magic Net from expanding and burrowed into the River of Origin to sleep soundly.
All spellcasters felt subtle, indefinable changes occurring quietly, and they all looked up at the brilliant starry sky.
The stargazers discovered with horror that the future prophesied by the stars had changed. The original omen of white frost bringing about the end of the world had become blurred, seemingly pushed far into the future?
Regardless, such a result was always good. After the joy, the sorcerers turned their attention to their enemies. The controlled kings began to wage war against each other again, and the precarious peace was ultimately shattered.
Tycha, who had caused all this, clapped her hands and walked out of the brightly lit high tower. Another witcher, Eskel, was looking at the newly renovated castle with a look of disbelief. Upon seeing Tycha, the憨厚-looking witcher asked with some uncertainty, "Hello, madam. Is this Kaer Morhen?"
Tycha waved her hand and opened a portal. After reaching an understanding with the World Consciousness, these spells were no longer obstacles. Tycha then revealed them to patch up her mage identity, lest she too follow the old path of the berserker Gandalf.
Lambert, with a face full of question marks, fell through the horizontally opening portal. He had replaced his leather armor with a brown fur winter coat. Seeing Eskel's arrival, he was overjoyed, "Old friend, you're finally back!"
The rest was left to Lambert to explain. Tycha turned and opened a portal to the summit of the Blue Mountains, relieving the fatigue of two days spent immersed in books in a hot spring.
When Tycha, with her rosy and radiant cheeks, returned to the castle, Vesemir had also appeared. The three witchers had furrowed brows, seemingly worried about something.
"What's wrong? Did your brother bring bad news?"
Tycha looked at Lambert. The witcher's expression remained grim, which caused Tycha to drop her smile and ask softly, "Is there anything I can help with?"
"Geralt almost died near Brokilon. His old flame Triss saved him. It is said that the sorceress also escaped in a rather disheveled state, and their pursuers were the Wild Hunt!"
Lambert remained silent for a moment before speaking slowly, "And the Wild Hunt's target is Ciri. In her grief, she unleashed immense power, engulfing the Wild Hunt soldiers in spatial rifts, leaving no trace of their bones. Ciri herself has also disappeared!"
"The elven queen, Francesca, saved Geralt and Triss. They are now receiving treatment in the territory of the dryad queen, Silver-eyed Essena, but Essena specifically requested to see you!"
Tycha raised an eyebrow, "Oh, the dryads' news travels fast. I'm also very eager to meet this queen."
Seeing that Tycha did not refuse, the three witchers breathed a sigh of relief.
"Where are they?"
Eskel said in a deep voice, "Doon Caan, the Land of Oaks."
Passing through the portal, the four arrived at a forest filled with tall oak trees.
Scattered springs dotted the shade, and visible water vapor rose from them, splitting the sunlight into scattered rainbows. The moss on the banks was unusually lush, faintly shimmering with green light, and the last witcher of the Wolf School slept on this moss.
The dryads watched the uninvited guests vigilantly. They blocked the steaming hot spring, helping Queen Essena put on a long skirt made of leaves.
The dryad queen rose from the hot spring, clad in a linen dress. Her silver hair and eyes gave her an air of mystery. The dappled sunlight cast a halo over her smooth silver hair, making it shine in the dim tree shadows.
What Tycha noticed first was not Queen Essena's beauty, but the vines that had become restless the moment she and the three witchers arrived.
This lady was worthy of the title of dryad queen. Natural energy was drawn to her and obeyed her commands. Tycha could bet her life that even four witchers in their prime might not be able to touch the hem of this queen's garment. This darling of nature was almost invincible in the forest.
"Retire. I believe this is a misunderstanding."
Essena waved away the dryads, and the vines spreading on the ground retracted.
The queen bowed her head slightly, "Esteemed guests, please follow me. There are places in this forest where guests can be received."
Essena led the guests to a treehouse, where a brown-haired sorceress was already waiting. The sorceress looked at the three witchers with great joy and ran down the spiraling staircase, "Eskel! Vesemir! Oh, and you, Lambert!"
The first two embraced the gentle sorceress and whispered words of comfort; Lambert, however, nodded indifferently, "Merigold."
The sorceress Triss frowned slightly, her face full of helplessness, "Don't call me Merigold, I'm Triss."
Tycha noticed the scabbed wounds on the sorceress's face and arms, and the traces of burning still remaining on her beautiful reddish-brown hair, suggesting she had been through a fierce battle.
Triss also noticed Tycha's scrutinizing gaze and responded with a friendly nod.
Once everyone was seated, Queen Essena first introduced Geralt's injuries to the witchers.
"When Francesca brought him to me, I almost thought he was dead."
"His bones were more fragile than dead branches. His ribs and spine were completely broken, rendering him immobile. It was a miracle that he was still breathing."
The dryads did not like humans, or rather, except for the elves who shared their origin, they treated all species with equal unwelcomeness. Therefore, Queen Essena did not pay special attention to the witchers, her tone being more of an objective description than emotional.
"Francesca rarely asked for my help. My kin did their utmost to pull him back from the brink of death."