This is a non-commercial fanfic based on the universes of The Witcher and Disco Elysium. All rights to the original works, characters, names, and elements of their respective worlds belong to their respective copyright holders. The author of this fanfic does not claim ownership of any of them. Age rating: rated R (18+). The text contains profanity, alcohol, fictional drugs, violence, and other themes intended for an adult audience.
“Rightly so, the world is controlled by chance and chaos.”
— Masato Kato, “Chrono Cross”
DISCERNMENT [Medium: Success] – Not a sound comes from above. No footsteps, no breathing, no creak of floorboards. Either there’s no one up there… or whoever is there knows how to wait patiently.
NARRATOR – The staircase makes one more turn and brings you to the upper landing. Daylight spills through a broken window, picking out a floor littered with dirt, shards of glass, and a thick layer of gray dust. Along the walls, you can just make out crates and the bulky dark shapes of old machinery.
KEEN EYE [Medium: Success] – Time to look around.
NARRATOR – Vernon stops at the top step. You move past him and survey the room. Rune remains a little lower down, cautiously peeking over the railing. The old tower is silent. The medallion on your chest gives a faint tremor.
HORRIFIC MEDALLION – Listen, kumpel, something’s off. Not like with that fucking sorceress, but still…
VERNON ROCHE – It’s remarkably quiet in here…
KEEN EYE – Careful…
NARRATOR – Suddenly, a sharp, dry sound comes from somewhere to the left. You nearly jump out of your skin and whirl around. By the far wall, almost blending into the darkened masonry, sits a swarthy old man with a gray beard. Calmly, he lights his pipe from a tinderbox, watching you from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. A long musket rests across his knees. Mounted above the barrel is a strange device resembling a large lens set in a frame of tarnished copper.
REFLEX [Medium: Success] – You press hard on Rune’s shoulder, forcing him to duck, then quickly move to the right. Vernon understands your maneuver at once and circles around from the other side.
VERNON ROCHE – Put the weapon on the floor immediately!
NARRATOR – A hoarse laugh answers him, sounding almost like the caw of a raven.
UNKNOWN MARKSMAN – And who the hell are you to give me orders? You idiots smashed down the door, barged in here uninvited, and now you’ve decided to start bossing me around too. On what grounds? Who gave you that authority?!
VERNON ROCHE – I command the Blue Stripes special unit. At present, we are acting as envoys of His Majesty King Foltest. You are suspected of committing a serious crime. So I repeat: put the weapon on the floor.
NARRATOR – The old man continues puffing calmly on his pipe.
UNKNOWN MARKSMAN – Commander of some bunch of faggots… A little lapdog running errands for the bastard who fucked his own sister…
NARRATOR – He snorts and carefully sets the musket aside.
UNKNOWN MARKSMAN – Not that it’s much use anyway. I’m out of charges…
NARRATOR – You take two steps closer and peer into the stranger’s wrinkled face. His eyes are clouded by a milky-white film; the pupils are barely visible.
CODEX [Medium: Failure] – Cataracts. The old man is almost blind.
DISCERNMENT [Challenging: Success] – Oh, not at all. He can see you perfectly well. He’s tracking every movement with remarkable precision.
YOU – How?
DISCERNMENT – Unknown.
YOU – Who are you? What’s your name?
UNKNOWN MARKSMAN – And what kind of mutant are you?.. Wait… I saw you in the square. Had a good view from up here, heh-heh… What a pair of idiots. Instead of organizing a proper defense, the two of you ended up facing an entire mob by yourselves. I’m amazed you survived at all.
ELOQUENCE [Challenging: Failure] – It just sort of happened.
YOU – To be honest, I’m surprised myself…
VERNON ROCHE – That has nothing to do with the matter at hand. We’re the ones asking questions. Please state your name.
RUNE – And keep your fucking hands where we can see ’em!
UNKNOWN MARKSMAN – And you brought a child with you too… Bah. What a pair of fools.
NARRATOR – He gives a crooked grin and shakes his head.
UNKNOWN MARKSMAN – My name is Wojciech Kreida. Former sergeant in the Temerian army… Now a deserter. I ran during the war with Redania. Broke my oath.
NARRATOR – Roche lowers his sword and asks in surprise:
VERNON ROCHE – Wait. You were actually at the front at your age?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – No.
CODEX [Challenging: Success] – He isn’t talking about the current war at all, but the First Redanian Campaign.
YOU – Vernon, I think he means the first war with Redania.
VERNON ROCHE – But that was more than fifty years ago…
NARRATOR – The old man lets out another hoarse laugh.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – So someone still remembers those days… I had barely turned nineteen. I served in a newly formed unit with six other boys just like me. Green recruits with their heads stuffed full of propaganda. Serve the homeland. Give your life for the king…
NARRATOR – The last words are spoken with indescribable contempt.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – And every one of us was armed with one of these.
NARRATOR – Wojciech points to the weapon lying on the floor. Vernon picks it up and examines it with interest.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – They called us soldiers of the new generation.
VERNON ROCHE – I’ve never seen a musket like this before. I’m quite certain it isn’t used by the Temerian army.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Oh yes. It’s an extremely rare piece.
NARRATOR – The old man smiles with satisfaction.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I think there are only a couple of these left in the whole world. This musket was made by some gnome scholar named… Hm… No, can’t remember. Anyway, he came up with the idea of mounting a special sighting tube above the barrel, fitted with several lenses ground from rock crystal.
NARRATOR – Vernon raises the strange device to his eye and points the musket toward the broken window.
VERNON ROCHE – Incredible… I can see the bell tower perfectly clearly. I can even make out cracks in the brickwork.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – About twenty-five times magnification.
NARRATOR – Carefully taking the weapon from Vernon, you peer through the eyepiece.
KEEN EYE [Medium: Success] – A fine crosshair is etched into the glass. Line it up with the target, and you can tell exactly where the shot should land. Clever.
VERNON ROCHE – But magnification alone wouldn’t be enough. At that distance, an ordinary bullet would lose force and drift off target by several cubits at least.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – That’s why sorcerers worked on the musket as well. See the markings along the barrel? Thanks to them, the bullet travels much farther, much faster, and loses almost none of its killing power. The weapon was developed under the strictest secrecy…
CODEX [Challenging: Success] – The runes were fused directly into the metal so the enchantments would last for many years.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Other markings dampen the sound. The shot isn’t completely silent, but instead of a deafening blast, all you hear is a sharp pop. There’s one more trick as well — a guidance enchantment. It can compensate slightly for errors caused by trembling hands, a gust of wind, or a miscalculation.
VERNON ROCHE – How slightly?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Back then, by about the width of a palm. Now, maybe two or three fingers. Seems the enchantments are slowly fading… But the musket won’t hit anything on its own. It still needs a trained hand, which is why the unit recruited young men with especially sharp eyesight and steady hands. Then they spent months teaching us to judge distance, read the wind, hold our breath… and kill.
NARRATOR – Wojciech grins, showing a few yellow teeth.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – After half a year, every man in the unit could hit a target at fifteen hundred paces — sometimes even two thousand.
DIALECTIC [Medium: Success] – The weapon doesn’t make an impossible shot for the marksman. It merely turns a masterful shot into a perfect one.
VERNON ROCHE – Then why did they stop using the weapon?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Believe me, there were plenty of reasons. Every one of these muskets cost the treasury an absurd amount of money. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how much.
DIALECTIC [Trivial: Success] – Obviously because soldiers were not trusted with information like that.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Mass production turned out to be impossible. It required flawless rock crystal, worked for months by the finest craftsmen. The slightest crack, scratch, or bubble inside the stone — and all that work was ruined. And you can’t make the barrel and firing mechanism out of just any old shit either. They needed a special steel: rare, expensive, almost completely free of impurities. People said meteoric iron worked best. Mutants like you forge your swords from that stuff, don’t you? So you should know what I’m talking about.
CODEX [Medium: Success] – Strangely enough, you actually do understand. Vernon killed Korda with a sword made from that very kind of metal.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Then the sorcerers took over. They spent weeks weaving enchantments into the barrel, the lenses…
WHISPER [Easy: Success] – In effect, every musket was a unique magical artifact. Custom-made and ruinously expensive.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – And the weapon itself was as temperamental as a spoiled beauty. You couldn’t drop it, get it wet, overheat it, or chill it too quickly. The slightest damage could make it malfunction. This wasn’t some crude hackbut you could scrub out with a wad of tow and put straight back into service.
NARRATOR – Vernon turns the musket over, examining the silver markings along the barrel.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – After every shot, it has to be reloaded, and then you have to wait a while for the built-up strain to dissipate… I don’t know exactly how it works, but one overeager fellow in the unit got half his face scorched and lost an eye. So while we were still fussing with the thing, an ordinary archer could loose ten arrows, sometimes more.
RUNE – Still a fucking awesome weapon!
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Oh yes. You could say that.
NARRATOR – The old man looks over his weapon with something like affection.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – But there was one more problem the mages never managed to solve: every shot leaves a fairly visible bluish trail. Something to do with the guidance enchantment.
VERNON ROCHE – Meaning the shooter’s position can be traced?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Exactly.
NARRATOR – Wojciech exhales a thin stream of smoke and watches it dissolve in a shaft of light.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – At first, the invention seemed promising. It was the favorite toy of Boguslav Vranek, our commander. Vranek dreamed of completely reforming the art of war… Said that one day a soldier wouldn’t even have to see the face of the man he killed.
SENSIBILITY [Medium: Success] – Those words impressed the old man once. They don’t anymore.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – But it soon became obvious that spending a fortune on a single musket made no sense. Then Vranek was caught embezzling funds and was removed from command. The king lost interest in the project and stopped financing it. Meanwhile, the gnome scholar kept asking for more and more money every month… In the end, he died poor and forgotten, as geniuses so often do.
NARRATOR – The deserter falls silent for a moment and sighs.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I suppose the weapon was simply too far ahead of its time. And perhaps one day someone will invent it again. Make it cheaper, more reliable, easier to use… Then soldiers will be able to kill one another from enormous distances with hardly any effort. Knights in armor carrying swords will pass into legend… Boguslav’s dream of a new kind of warfare will finally come true. But none of us will live to see it.
NARRATOR – He gives a crooked smile.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Perhaps that’s for the best…
YOU – All right, then why did you desert? What happened?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – You could say I stopped understanding what any of it was for. The inscrutable ambitions of a king who sits in a comfortable tent and points with a manicured hand, deciding where we advance, which city must be taken, how many soldiers should be “committed” to the task?.. Or I can put it more simply: I was afraid.
NARRATOR – There is neither shame nor defiance in his words. Only the weariness of a man who made his peace with the truth long ago, after repeating it to himself for half a century.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – We managed to force a crossing of the Pontar and establish ourselves on the northern bank. The next step was to press the advantage. The infantry moved forward, while we stayed behind as usual, providing covering fire. And then…
NARRATOR – His voice suddenly begins to tremble. Gnarled fingers tighten around the pipe.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Death came down on us. Some sorceress — I never learned her name — did something beyond imagining. Fire and brimstone poured from the sky.
CODEX [Impossible: Success] – Her name was Sabrina. She served as an adviser to the Redanian king, but in truth worked for Kaedweni intelligence. It is believed that during the Battle of the Pontar she cast a devastating spell in an attempt to weaken both armies and preserve the status quo. Historians have argued over her true motives for decades, however… In any case, the sorceress was captured and burned at the stake. According to legend, before her death she laid a terrible curse upon the Redanian dynasty.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I saw everything through the scope. If hell truly exists, I think that’s what it looks like. Men burned alive — ours, theirs… Some were still running with the flames already on them. Others rolled on the ground, desperately trying to smother the sorcerous fire as it burned all the way to the bone… That sickening smell of scorched flesh… No. You cannot imagine how terrible it was.
NARRATOR – Wojciech’s clouded eyes look straight through you, into the distant past.
STEADINESS [Medium: Success] – Don’t interrupt him. He isn’t in the tower anymore. He’s standing on the bank of the Pontar again, feeling the heat draw closer.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – The whole valley was burning. The rain of fire was creeping toward our position in the rear — slowly, but inexorably. We had no right to retreat without orders… I don’t remember clearly what happened next. I think two or three of the others were already dead, and I just ran. Blind with terror, not even looking where I was going. I abandoned the position. Abandoned my comrades… That was the end of my military service. Forever.
VERNON ROCHE – Weren’t they searching for you? You fled with an extremely valuable artifact.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I have no doubt they were. But I disappeared into the Redanian forests, and the Temerians were driven back across the Pontar. Then came years of wandering. I suppose, in time, they simply forgot about me. Or perhaps they assumed I was dead.
YOU – So you spent more than fifty years in hiding?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Yes. I went through a great deal… But all those years, I kept my weapon safe, knowing it might one day save my life.
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – Did he only keep it? Or did he use it too?
YOU – Did you ever… consider becoming a mercenary?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – You mean become a killer like you? No… For one thing, the fear never really left me. And for another, I understood perfectly well that if some local prince, bandit chief, or greedy commander ever learned about the musket, they’d take the weapon and kill me along with it. No. I rarely put it to use.
WHISPER – “Rarely.” Right. That answers that.
YOU – So you did kill people after all?
NARRATOR – Wojciech merely smirks and says nothing.
DISCERNMENT [Medium: Success] – The smile of a man who, over the years, learned to find a suitable justification for every shot.
VERNON ROCHE – How long ago did you arrive in Vizima?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I… don’t remember…
NARRATOR – Wojciech frowns and presses his fingers to his temples.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Lately, my memories have been getting tangled up somehow. Years, faces, cities… Sometimes I wake up and can’t tell how much time has passed. It’s hard to distinguish waking life from dreams. And some dreams seem more real than what actually happens.
SENSIBILITY [Challenging: Success] – The old man is barely trying to deny anything. He’s ready to confess to it all. The important thing is not to rush him.
YOU – So you did fire it from time to time. But why? Were you working for someone?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – No, no, you don’t understand…
NARRATOR – Wojciech suddenly leans forward. For the first time, there is genuine excitement in his voice.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I watch a great deal. I observe… Especially at night. From this tower, the whole city lies open before me: windows, streets, people… You begin to notice things others cannot. I’ve had this gift for quite some time now.
NARRATOR – He raises his clouded eyes toward the broken window.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I can see the inner fire of every living creature. And some people burn too brightly. Unbearably bright.
YOU – What?..
WOJCIECH KREIDA – They’re like candles left beside dry straw. If they aren’t extinguished in time, a fire will break out. Thousands will die. Perhaps tens or hundreds of thousands… I’ve seen it in my dreams… The world consumed by a terrible firestorm from which there is no escape.
DIALECTIC [Easy: Success] – He’s insane.
DISCERNMENT [Challenging: Success] – Probably. But Wojciech isn’t speaking in riddles or trying to confuse you. To him, this is the literal truth.
YOU – Is that why you killed them?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I didn’t kill them. I merely extinguished their inner fire.
NARRATOR – He says it calmly, almost sounding offended, as though you deliberately twisted his meaning.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Their candles had to be put out. I didn’t want to… But there was no other choice.
DIALECTIC [Challenging: Success] – Those guards the Scoia’tael supposedly killed… You may have your answer now. Just don’t use the word “kill” when you ask about them.
YOU – Was it you who… extinguished the two guards patrolling the streets a few weeks ago?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – The guards?.. Yes, probably…
NARRATOR – The old man pauses to think.
UMBRA [Challenging: Success] – He isn’t searching his memory for human faces, but for colored lights. To him, all those people were faceless.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – When the first one fell, his partner didn’t even understand what had happened. He rushed over and tried to help… That’s how the soldiers at the Pontar tried to pull their comrades out of the fire. Grabbed them with their bare hands, caught fire themselves — and ended up lying in that valley beside them. Yes… Every last one of them stayed there forever, on the bank of the Pontar… In one enormous mass grave. They say bones are still found there to this day.
NARRATOR – The old man falls silent for a minute, his lips moving soundlessly, as though reciting the names of his dead comrades one by one.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I waited. Then…
NARRATOR – His index finger slowly curls, as if settling over an invisible trigger.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I shot the second one.
VERNON ROCHE – And Bastien Lavelle? Did he burn too brightly, in your eyes?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Who? I don’t know that name…
YOU – The chevalier who was killed last Thursday. He was with a woman… In a house near Fountain Square.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – So that was his name… Yes, yes, I remember. He was shining unbearably bright, and there were many candles burning in the room. Their light merged with his own. Blinded me. The chevalier was sitting on the bed, and a beautiful woman was kneeling in front of him… An easy target. He threw his head back and opened his mouth… I held my breath and pulled the trigger. Just as I’d done dozens of times before.
DIALECTIC [Trivial: Success] – So Karmen was telling the truth.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – When he fell, his companion didn’t understand what had happened at first. Then she screamed and burst into tears.
VERNON ROCHE – Why did you spare her?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Because I usually leave women and children alone. And because she was barely glowing at all. When that man died, it was as though all the light inside her went out at once.
NARRATOR – The deserter lowers his head.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – I felt terribly sorry for her. About four days ago, I picked some white chrysanthemums near the cemetery and left them by her door. People used to bring flowers like that to the graves of fallen soldiers.
WHISPER [Easy: Success] – So that’s where the dried bouquet came from. The killer returned to the scene of the crime.
NARRATOR – For a moment, silence settles over the room.
KEEN EYE [Legendary: Success] – Listen… did you notice something just now?
YOU – What?
KEEN EYE – Around his face…
NARRATOR – You focus. At first, you see only wrinkles, a gray beard, and the cloudy whiteness of cataract-stricken eyes. But then he turns his face at a slightly different angle… and the air around the old man’s temples distorts almost imperceptibly. Something nearly transparent is moving there — a thin, moist membrane wrapped around his forehead and eye sockets. Long filaments extend from it, like a jellyfish’s tendrils or roots that have pushed their way beneath the skin.
HORRIFIC MEDALLION – There it is, kumpel. This old fuck is not alone in there.
YOU – What the devil?..
NARRATOR – For one brief instant, the translucent creature contracts. Wojciech’s milky eyes turn toward you.
DISCERNMENT [Challenging: Success] – It knows you can see it.
HORRIFIC MEDALLION – Listen carefully… Remember the Sign I taught you down in those fucking catacombs? This time, you need to hold your fingers differently. Then you’ll be able to trap the thing before it gets away. Don’t fuck around, kumpel, or you’ll screw this up all over again.
REFLEX [Impossible: Success] – The fingers of your right hand form the proper gesture on their own. Pain shoots through your arm, but…
NARRATOR – A violet flash flickers beside the old man’s head. The translucent creature suddenly freezes.
YOU – Got it! I caught it, Vernon!
NARRATOR – Roche, still pondering Wojciech’s last words, flinches in surprise and stares uncomprehendingly at your grease-smeared face.
VERNON ROCHE – Caught what, exactly? What are you talking about, Geralt?
NARRATOR – The creature begins to struggle. Its translucent body ripples, while thin tendrils writhe beneath Wojciech’s skin, trying to pull the rest of its body deeper into his eye sockets. You can feel the Sign gradually weakening.
YOU – It’s right there, on the old man’s face! F-f-fuck, it’s crawling inside!
RUNE – Hey, gramps, what the fuck are you talking about? You gone crazy or something?
WOJCIECH KREIDA – No…
NARRATOR – The old man grabs his head with both hands.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Don’t touch it! I’ll go blind again!
VERNON ROCHE – Forgive me, witcher, but I don’t quite understand what is happening.
YOU – Damn it, can’t you see it?!
VERNON ROCHE – No.
WHISPER [Challenging: Failure] – Perhaps… you’re imagining all of this? The transparent creature, the violet flashes, the talking medallion… Especially the talking medallion.
YOU – Gods… I think it’s finally happened. I’ve completely lost my mind.
NARRATOR – Vernon looks back at Wojciech in confusion. Then his expression suddenly turns grave. Your partner steps closer to the deserter and peers intently at him. A moment later, he says only four words.
VERNON ROCHE – I can see it.
NARRATOR – Rune rushes over, forgetting all caution.
RUNE – What the fuck are you idiots talking about… Wait. Fuck, what the hell is that thing?!
CODEX [Legendary: Success] – An ocular symbiont — an extremely rare and dangerous parasitic life-form, commonly known as a pupilworm. It must be destroyed.
RESOLVE [Challenging: Success] – If that thing gets away, sooner or later it’ll find a new host. And slowly drive them insane.
WOJCIECH KREIDA – Stop! You’ll kill me!
RESOLVE – Stay calm. The pupilworm is speaking through the old man. Kreida’s mind is almost completely under its control. That’s where the visions and nightmares come from.
NARRATOR – You widen your stance, hold the Sign steady, and pour your will into it. The violet strands flare again, coil around the parasite, and slowly drag it out of Wojciech’s eye sockets. The old man screams. Blood wells beneath his eyelids. The creature stretches, clinging to skin and hair with its tendrils, but the invisible cage keeps tightening around it.
RESOLVE – Harder.
NARRATOR – Your temples begin to pound. Darkness creeps into your vision, and your knees threaten to buckle. For a moment, you think you see an alien eye open amid the violet flashes — enormous, colorless, and full of hatred.
HORRIFIC MEDALLION – Just a little more, kumpel!
NARRATOR – You clench your fingers sharply. A dry pop cracks through the room. The pupilworm tears free from Wojciech’s head and drops to the floor in a shapeless, transparent lump. For several moments it contracts convulsively, then breaks apart into trembling gelatinous shreds that dissolve into the air, leaving only a wet stain behind. Wojciech slumps against the wall. His cloudy eyes remain open, but now they stare sightlessly into nothing.
RUNE – Now that’s some seriously fucked-up shit…
WOJCIECH KREIDA – What’s happening? Why can’t I… see anything? Where did the light go?!
NARRATOR – His muttering fades to little more than a whisper. The old man topples onto his side and helplessly gropes across the filthy floor with one hand. Vernon wipes his forehead, then picks up the enchanted musket.
VERNON ROCHE – Stay here. I’ll summon the guards at once. This man needs urgent medical attention.
NARRATOR – Some time later, your partner returns with three burly soldiers. Two of them are carrying a stretcher.
VERNON ROCHE – Take him to the hospital immediately, then report to Captain Meis that the killer of Chevalier Bastien Lavelle has been found. Turn this musket over to him for safekeeping. Do not leave the old man alone for a moment. He is dangerous, even if he is in no condition to resist right now. I will come to the hospital myself in an hour and give further instructions.
NARRATOR – Wojciech, barely reacting to anything around him, is carefully placed on the stretcher and carried downstairs.
RUNE – Will somebody finally explain what the fuck that shitty leech thing was?!
YOU – An ocular symbiont. A parasite that feeds on powerful emotions. It replaced Wojciech’s sight, but gradually distorted everything he saw and felt. I suppose that at some point, killing people began to give the old man a kind of twisted pleasure, though he was afraid to admit it even to himself. The parasite sensed that and gave him an excuse: that some people carried a dangerous fire inside them, and that it had to be extinguished. All of it became tangled up with his terrible memories of the Battle of the Pontar. The rain of fire, his dead comrades, the blaze he once fled from. I can hardly imagine what kind of nightmares tormented him all these years.
VERNON ROCHE – How horrifying… So Bastien’s death and the riot that followed… all of it happened simply because a mad old man imagined he saw some kind of glow?
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – The world is ruled by nothing but chaos and blind chance. People merely scramble to find some logical explanation for whatever happens.
UMBRA [Challenging: Success] – You know two theories already… Evil as the absence of good. Evil as the refusal to think. But Wojciech was neither “empty” nor thoughtless. He reflected, he felt pity, he brought flowers to a grieving woman — and still he kept killing. He simply built a view of the world in which every shot made him a savior rather than a murderer. Perhaps the most frightening person is not the one who cannot tell good from evil, but the one who claims the right to decide where the boundary lies.
VERNON ROCHE – In any case, well done, Geralt. Excellent work. Now let’s return to the square and decide what to do next…