"How do you feel?"
"Is your body alright?"
"This arm... hmm, what are you going to do about it?"
After confirming there were no other enemies in the stronghold, Guilliman helped the weakened Berengar lean against a nearby wall.
Despite only having an arm injury, the Witcher looked as if he had endured a horrifying torture; his eyes bulged, his face was pale, and blood seeped from his tightly clenched gums, indicating he had been in immense pain.
Hearing his questions, Berengar showed a bitter smile on his face, along with an inexpressible, almost relieved expression, and said:
"I'm alright, I should be able to survive."
"This is a first-level magic, Bone-Eating Arrow."
"I once saw it in the books at Kaer Morhen, a very insidious magic, used by certain dark sorcerers for execution and torture."
"It uses dark energy to corrode the flesh, rot the body, and completely destroy the body's foundation."
"Unless a high-level healer is willing to treat me, it will be very difficult to heal."
"Even Swallow potion won't work."
At this point, Berengar gave a self-deprecating laugh and continued:
"My Witcher career should be over."
"High-level healers are already rare and hold high positions; ordinary people aren't qualified to see them, and even if I found one, I probably wouldn't have the means to get them to help."
"Moreover, those sorcerers charge exorbitant prices, and I can't possibly afford to pay them for treatment."
"Furthermore, with one arm gone, I'm already a cripple. Perhaps in the future, I'll only be able to rely on farming to support myself."
Guilliman didn't pay attention to his self-deprecation, his mind pondering what "first-level magic" meant.
In his previous life, whether in games or the original work, the Witcher profession was described in great detail, while the power of sorcerers was difficult to measure with simple levels and was not described in enough detail.
So he knew nothing about the so-called magic level divisions.
However, Guilliman was someone who asked questions directly, unwilling to keep them to himself, so he immediately asked:
"What does first-level magic mean? Are there many levels of magic?"
Berengar looked at him in surprise, probably not expecting such a strong School of the Viper Witcher like him to not even know such basic magic common sense.
However, this old farmer-like Witcher was not a sharp-tongued person; after less than a second of consideration, he honestly replied:
"I'm not entirely clear on the specifics."
"But according to the standards set by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, Chaos magic is divided into four levels based on the harm it causes and the difficulty of its use."
"First level is the weakest, fourth level is the strongest, and, well, maybe we should also count petty tricks."
"And most sorcerer apprentices who have studied magic for less than twenty years can only use first-level magic."
"Formal sorcerers, ordinary members of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, can mostly use first to third-level magic, depending on their strength."
"Only the high-ranking members of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, powerful sorcerers known as high-level sorcerers, can use the most powerful fourth-level magic."
"However, across the continent now, most of the high-level sorcerers who advanced early have already exhausted their lifespans and become historical footnotes."
"The truly remaining high-level sorcerers probably number less than ten."
"Coupled with the previous two Nilfgaardian Wars and the Thanedd Coup, the Brotherhood of Sorcerers is now almost defunct, and there are not many truly powerful sorcerers left."
After listening to Berengar's explanation, Guilliman nodded, feeling that he had learned a lot again.
He hadn't expected this seemingly honest fellow to know so much.
If he were to just fade away like this, it would feel a bit of a waste of this encounter.
Looking at Berengar, who called himself a cripple, an idea suddenly sparked in Guilliman's mind, a win-win solution.
So, he spoke directly:
"Berengar, I have an idea that you might consider."
"Actually, my mentor died very early, almost immediately after I completed my Witcher trials, he passed away unexpectedly."
"You should have seen that although my strength is decent and I've had many fortuitous encounters."
"However, many basic pieces of knowledge about Witchers, I haven't mastered firmly."
Saying this, he looked at the weakened Witcher before him with serious and sincere eyes.
"In your current condition, your future days will certainly be difficult."
"How about this, I find you a place to retire, and then pay you a substantial monthly salary."
"In return, without violating your principles, you teach me all the Witcher knowledge you possess."
"Believe me, I am a generous person."
"I guarantee that in just a few years, you'll accumulate enough money to heal your arm, and even save up a retirement fund to live out the rest of your days peacefully."
"Think it over carefully, this path should be a good choice for you."
Perhaps Guilliman's suggestion was too unexpected, too jumpy.
Berengar froze on the spot, blinking, unsure what to say.
Guilliman didn't press him, but instead patted his shoulder and turned to deal with the Salamandra gang's stronghold.
After such a long delay, the sorcerer who had been hit by a crossbow bolt in the chest had already died, eyes wide open.
He didn't hesitate, directly using the Axii Sign to extract the sorcerer's soul.
What Guilliman hadn't expected was that a sorcerer's soul was far more powerful than an ordinary person's; if an ordinary person's soul was a glowing orb the size of a quail egg.
Then the dead sorcerer's soul was as large as an egg, not only emitting the faint glow of an ordinary soul but also enveloped in an aura similar to chaotic magic, which was very mysterious.
Visually, the soul power contained in a sorcerer's soul was probably more than ten times that of an ordinary person, estimated to be around fifty points.
He had some doubts in his mind but didn't dwell on them.
The secrets contained within the Witcher King system were too numerous, and with his current power, he couldn't possibly unravel them all.
He planned to find an opportunity later to consult books on souls or ask experts in soul research.
As he thought this, Guilliman advanced another few dozen meters into the secret room and soon saw a large, damp, dimly lit cave with torches hanging on the walls.
In this cave, not only were there various daily necessities, unknown goods, and a large number of smuggled weapons.
There were also two large iron cages, placed in the center of the cave, next to a bonfire.
Inside the iron cages were more than a dozen underage boys and girls of different races.
They were tied hand and foot, gagged, and confined in rags in the cages, their eyes dull and lifeless, seemingly having fallen into despair.
When Guilliman saw this, he knew that his efforts had not been in vain, and this missing persons quest should be considered complete.
And he and the Salamandra gang should have formed a significant grudge.