Multiversal Hotel

Arthur stood in Avalon's lobby, his chest brimming with pride and relief. He'd done it—he'd successfully marked a new world, and the connection would bring Avalon one step closer to stability. Despite the throbbing ache left by the experience, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction, the kind that only came from pushing past a limit.

"Look at you, lad," Taliesin's voice broke into his thoughts, warm and encouraging. "How does it feel to get a peek into the universe?"

Arthur chuckled, thinking of the strange places and people he'd glimpsed. "It hurt, honestly… but it was exhilarating, too. Like I was standing on the edge of something bigger than I could imagine."

Taliesin's face lit up with approval, giving Arthur a hearty pat on the back. "Well said! And get used to it, because you'll be doing that a lot more."

Just then, a soft chime echoed in Arthur's mind, and a new notification appeared before him.

[System Notification: Basic Multiverse Navigation proficiency increased to Intermediate]

Arthur's eyes widened, a thrill running through him as he saw his skill increase in real time. He hadn't expected to progress so quickly.

Taliesin grinned at the notification. "There you go, lad—already moving up in the world. But for now, let's focus on a world that's already connected. You'll need that strength for what the universe will bring next."

Arthur's smile faded for a moment, a thought brewing in the back of his mind. He'd noticed something while glimpsing into the Marvel world, and he felt he had to share it. Taking a steadying breath, he looked between Taliesin and Hecate, both watching him with curiosity.

Arthur hesitated, glancing at Taliesin and Hecate. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you first."

Hecate raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

Arthur took a steadying breath, feeling a bit foolish but determined to share. "That world I just marked and the wizarding world were from a book I read back in my original world."

Taliesin and Hecate exchanged a quick look, but neither seemed particularly surprised.

"So?" Hecate asked, her tone calm.

Arthur blinked, thrown by their nonchalance. "Wait… that doesn't surprise you?"

Taliesin laughed, a light, cheerful sound that seemed to fill the lobby with warmth. "Normal, lad. It's perfectly normal. Sometimes, people do get glimpses of other worlds—little flashes of stories, images, or names—because, well, the multiverse has a funny way of letting certain details seep through."

Hecate nodded, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I once found a book about myself in another world." crossing her arms. "The content… let's just say it wasn't flattering. They described me as some kind of wicked, old hag." She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Taliesin grinned, clearly entertained. "Oh, and I've seen books about me, too! In one of them, I'm written as a poet—albeit a drunken one who spends all his time in taverns. To be fair, that story is what led me to start studying poetry."

Arthur relaxed a bit, realizing his perspective on the multiverse was still expanding. "So… this happens often?"

Avalon's voice joined the conversation, calm yet cautionary. "Yes, Arthur, overlaps like these aren't uncommon. However, I suggest you don't grow too comfortable with the knowledge you think you have. In an ever-expanding multiverse, things can and will differ—often in unpredictable ways."

Arthur absorbed Avalon's words with a slow nod, committing them to memory. "Got it. I'll keep that in mind."

Taliesin gave him a reassuring pat. "Good lad. But let's get you some rest now. You've earned it." He looked over at Hecate. "Avalon could use some help gathering more energy. Shall we?"

Hecate inclined her head, a glint of approval in her eyes. "Let's give Avalon a proper boost."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest—he didn't feel that tired—but a yawn escaped him before he could finish his thought. Realizing he had no argument left, he allowed them to guide him to his quarters. As he settled in, he felt Avalon's gentle presence around him, urging him to rest.

"Sleep well, Arthur," Avalon murmured, its voice a soft, comforting whisper.

As he drifted off, Hecate and Taliesin returned to the task at hand, focusing on gathering energy from the magical threads of the Wizarding World.

As Arthur drifted deeper into sleep, Taliesin cast a wary glance at Hecate. "Are you certain it's wise to let him rest with all that residue still in him?" he asked, his tone more serious than usual. "He might be exposed to more than he's prepared for."

Hecate watched Arthur's sleeping form with calm assurance. "It's alright. He'll see fragments, but he won't map anything fully. The visions may feel strange, but in the end, they'll benefit him." She nodded, confidence edging her voice. "Trust me."

Taliesin leaned back, his gaze softening. "Alright, lad," he murmured as if Arthur could hear him. "I'm relying on you, then."

In his slumber, Arthur felt himself slipping from the warm embrace of familiar dreams into something foreign, more vivid. He was surrounded by shadows and lights, flickering scenes that stretched and contracted like the pull of the ocean tide.

The darkness gave way to images—at first, misty and undefined, then suddenly sharp and intense. He found himself standing amid endless mountains and forests, trees towering like ancient guardians, their branches shrouded in mist. In the distance, a single tower rose against the sky, its silhouette stark and foreboding. He could almost feel the weight of ages pressing down on him, the air thick with a history he didn't fully understand.

Just as he tried to move closer, the scene shifted. Now, he was standing on a dirt path winding through fields of lush greenery, flanked by rugged, snow-capped peaks. A lone figure trudged along the path, a determined look in their eyes and a sword as large as they were strapped to their back. The path was stained with old blood, the echoes of battles fought by a warrior who seemed burdened by the weight of more than just their blade.

The vision blurred again, morphing as the landscape vanished, replaced by a towering city of sleek, metallic spires that pierced the clouds. In its heart, a figure in a dark suit with a cape flowing behind them stood on a ledge, their gaze sharp as they watched over the bustling streets below. The city itself felt alive, the lights glittering like stars, and Arthur sensed both hope and despair in equal measure, hovering over its people.

The dream pulled him onward, his surroundings dissolving like sand slipping through his fingers. He found himself within a forest of towering, twisted trees. Beneath their knotted branches, a young figure wielding a sword moved with fierce, fluid precision, the glint of their blade cutting through the mist as they faced an oncoming wave of shadowed forms, relentless and unyielding. The air around them crackled with a fierce, unbreakable resolve, and the scent of burning wood filled his senses.

Again, the vision shifted, placing him on the edge of a vast, turbulent sea. Waves crashed against jagged cliffs, and on the horizon, a blackened fortress loomed, smoke and fire billowing from its twisted towers. Dark creatures flew overhead, their shadows casting unnatural shapes across the blood-red sky as if an age-old battle between light and dark played out on a scale far beyond his comprehension.

Arthur's heartbeat quickened as the images continued to flood his mind, each vision as fleeting as the last. He saw a boy with a determined gaze, donning a boar's head mask as he raced through a dense, rain-soaked forest, his movements swift and unyielding. The boy's eyes shone with fierce determination, every step brimming with untamed energy.

Then, without warning, he was standing amidst a ruined battlefield, the earth cracked and scorched, littered with broken weapons and abandoned armor. Massive figures loomed on the horizon, their faces obscured in shadow, but their sheer presence felt like an impending storm. The ground trembled beneath him, the weight of violence and bloodshed seeping into the soil itself.

Finally, he glimpsed a landscape of pure, tranquil beauty: fields of golden grass stretched under a sunlit sky, and in the distance, he could see a humble village, its small cottages nestled in the rolling hills. The air felt light and welcoming, yet he sensed something deeper—a timeless bond between the land and its people, a peace hard-won but fiercely guarded.

As each scene shifted, Arthur felt himself straining to hold onto them, the sheer depth of each world reaching into him, filling his mind with images and emotions too powerful to contain. Just as the intensity began to overwhelm him, the visions started to fade, melting back into darkness.

In the quiet that followed, Arthur's heartbeat slowed, and he felt himself drifting into a calmer, dreamless sleep, the remnants of distant worlds lingering like the faintest whispers.

...

Meanwhile in another world

Geralt and Vesemir stood knee-deep in the mist, their breaths steady but controlled as they surveyed the dense thicket in front of them. Pale light filtered through the trees, glinting off Vesemir's silver sword as he wiped a smear of blood from his brow. Their hunt had been straightforward: an old contract to clear a fiend terrorizing a remote village on the edge of Kaedwen. It was the kind of hunt that seasoned witchers handled without a second thought—until the unexpected happened.

The fiend lay dead in the clearing behind them, but the stench of blood had drawn something far worse. Geralt could see its shadow shifting in the treeline—a towering silhouette with bony spines, and yellow eyes glowing like hot coals.

"Basilisk," Geralt muttered, eyes narrowing as he scanned the surroundings.

"Damn it," Vesemir grunted, gripping his sword tighter. "We've dealt with one too many fiends to still be in fighting shape for this."

"We're low on potions and down to our last bombs," Geralt replied, assessing the situation. "Not exactly ideal for a long fight."

"Then we'd better make this quick," Vesemir said, positioning himself with a steady stance. "You go left; I'll go right."

As Geralt shifted left, the basilisk sprang from the shadows with a hiss that sent a chill down his spine. Its wings unfurled, leathery and vast, blocking out the sparse sunlight. He heard the rush of wind as the creature descended, its beak snapping viciously close to his head.

Geralt rolled to the side, drawing his silver sword in one fluid motion and slicing at the beast's flank. His blade connected, leaving a shallow gash that oozed thick, dark blood. But the basilisk barely flinched, its attention shifting to Vesemir as the elder witcher launched himself at the beast's exposed side.

Vesemir's sword struck true, burying deep into the basilisk's shoulder. The creature let out a shriek of rage, jerking back and sweeping its tail at them both. Geralt leaped back, feeling the wind of the tail swipe as it narrowly missed his chest.

"This one's tougher than it looks," Vesemir growled, pulling his sword free and backing away as the basilisk circled them.

Geralt threw a look at Vesemir, his voice tense. "We're not going to make it at this rate. We're not prepared."

The basilisk lunged again, forcing Geralt to sidestep as he slashed at its leg, hoping to slow it down. But the beast was relentless, its eyes glowing with hunger and fury. Geralt felt the weight of fatigue settling into his muscles—a result of their earlier fight, compounded by a lack of vital potions and preparations.

Vesemir dodged another swipe of the creature's claws, gritting his teeth. "Scatter. We'll lose it in the forest. Draw it off and circle back to Kaer Morhen."

Geralt was about to nod, but something strange pricked at the edge of his senses—a tug, a feeling almost like a sixth sense, urging him in a different direction. "Wait."

"What?" Vesemir hissed, sidestepping another strike as the basilisk's claws raked the ground.

"Trust me. Follow me." Geralt didn't wait for Vesemir's answer. He bolted to the left, keeping low as he plunged through the thick underbrush. Vesemir followed, casting wary glances back as the basilisk pursued, its heavy footfalls rattling the trees around them.

They ran for what felt like an eternity, Geralt's senses guiding him forward. Just as they reached a break in the forest, he saw it: a doorway of gleaming glass standing alone in the clearing, utterly out of place. Intricate carvings adorned the frame and a soft, inviting glow pulsed from within, an unearthly light that seemed both foreign and impossibly safe.

"Geralt…" Vesemir's voice was low, laced with suspicion as he stared at the doorway. "What in all the hells is that?"

Geralt's gaze flickered between the door and the approaching basilisk. "No idea. But it's our only way out of this mess."

The basilisk crashed through the undergrowth, its wings spread wide, fury radiating from its every movement. They had no time to second-guess.

"Come on." Geralt didn't wait, gripping Vesemir by the arm as he yanked open the door. Together, they plunged through, slamming the door shut behind them just as the basilisk's enraged shriek echoed through the forest.

Inside, silence.

The door swung shut behind Geralt and Vesemir with an almost unsettling silence. The chaotic sounds of the forest and the basilisk's furious screech were cut off, replaced by the faint hum of a warmly lit lobby. Polished marble floors stretched out beneath their feet, and elegant chandeliers cast a soft glow over the space, each one flickering like starlight. The air held a strange tranquility, the kind of peace that immediately put the two witchers on guard.

"Geralt," Vesemir murmured, his tone wary. "This… doesn't feel like the escape we expected."

"Not in the slightest." Geralt's hand hovered near his silver sword, his eyes scanning the room, cataloging every corner, every potential threat.

At the far end of the lobby, two figures stood, both observing them with intrigue. One was a tall, striking woman with sharp blue eyes and a faint, knowing smirk, while the other—a man with golden hair and a well-kept beard—grinned at them as if they were old friends. The man muttered something to the woman with a hint of amusement.

"Well, would you look at that," Taliesin said, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"A guest…" Hecate's gaze sharpened slightly, assessing Geralt and Vesemir with the same curiosity one might reserve for a rare artifact. "You handle this, Taliesin."

Taliesin glanced at her, an almost playful glint in his eye as he gave a mock bow. "As you wish." With a casual flick of his wrist, his attire shifted, morphing into a uniform similar to Arthur's—a neat, dark suit tailored with precision, giving him the air of a seasoned concierge.

He straightened, extending his hands in a welcoming gesture as he stepped forward. "Welcome, travelers," Taliesin said smoothly, his voice warm. "You've arrived at Avalon—a sanctuary between worlds. My name is Taliesin, and I am here to assist."

Geralt and Vesemir exchanged a wary glance, neither of them lowering their guard. They stood with feet planted firmly, hands ready on their weapons.

"Avalon?" Geralt echoed, skepticism evident in his voice. "Last I checked, we were in the middle of Kaedwen, not some… magical inn."

Taliesin's grin widened, undeterred by their suspicion. "Avalon tends to appear precisely when it's needed most. You've stepped through its door at a particularly opportune time, I'd say."

Geralt's eyes narrowed. "Convenient. So you're telling us this place just… appears?"

"Precisely," Taliesin replied, not missing a beat. "It's a bit of magic beyond your world's understanding, but rest assured, you're safe here. Avalon's purpose is to provide respite to travelers like yourselves."

Vesemir's brow furrowed, glancing back at the door, almost as if he expected it to disappear. "And who are you two?" His gaze shifted to Hecate, who stood observing them with an unreadable expression.

Taliesin dipped his head slightly. "As I mentioned, I'm Taliesin, and I'm here to see to your needs while you stay in Avalon. And this," he gestured with a nod toward Hecate, "is Hecate."

Geralt's gaze sharpened. "You seem oddly comfortable with strangers barging in. I've seen enough traps disguised as hospitality to know when something doesn't feel right."

Hecate's smirk deepened, her voice low and unbothered. "If you think we're some sort of threat, feel free to test your theory. Though I wouldn't recommend it."

Vesemir's jaw tightened, the weight of his years of experience lending a stern edge to his voice. "We're witchers. Trained to handle monsters, curses, and all manner of dangerous magic. If this place is a trick, you'll be dealing with two of us."

Taliesin laughed lightly as if Vesemir's warning was the most delightful thing he'd heard in days. "I assure you, this is no trick. Avalon's power runs on a different magic—one that welcomes guests as they are, without deceit." His expression softened slightly. "And I suspect you could use some rest."

Geralt studied him, skepticism still lingering in his gaze. "Why would you assume that?"

"Your weariness speaks for itself," Taliesin replied with a nod toward their worn, bloodstained gear. "You've fought enough battles to know the toll they take."

Hecate watched them both with an appraising glance. "Rest, recover. Your weapons won't be necessary here." She raised an eyebrow, a hint of warning in her voice. "Not unless you make it so."

Geralt's hand finally lowered, if only slightly, though his gaze remained sharp. "Fine. But if this place isn't what you say it is, I'll be the first to make sure it's reduced to rubble."

~~~

A/N: It second connected world babyy....

Anyway I see some of your suggestion, and some of the I'm not really familiar. I'll try to talk to my gf about some of the game story like mass effect and god of war, cuz she the gamer in our ship. anyway we'll se where this story takes us.

and BTW, I already have the world I want to integrate. it's just when i see some of the story on this game I kinda liked it

Alright BYEE...

-🧣