Multiversal Hotel

As the dust settled in the Martial Hall, the faint glow of Avalon's magic illuminated the three warriors who had fought tirelessly for days. Standing tall at the center, his breathing steady despite the battle's toll, was Guan Yu. His jade-green armor caught the dim light, his figure a stoic monument of strength and honor. In his grip, the Green Dragon Crescent Blade rested upright, a symbol of his mastery and resilience.

To his left, Hua Mulan struggled to steady herself, but her posture remained proud, her gaze unwavering as she looked upon the new leader of the Martial Hall. Across from her, Musashi leaned on his katana, his breathing labored but his expression calm, accepting the outcome with quiet dignity. Their weapons, their strengths, and their wisdom—everything they had brought to the battle—had led to this moment.

In the silence that followed, a mutual understanding and respect passed between the three warriors. The contest was over, yet each of them knew the bond forged here would last far beyond this victory.

Guan Yu inclined his head, his voice steady and resolute. "It is decided. As of this day, I am honored to lead as commander of the Martial Hall. But know this, both of you—without your strength and wisdom, this role would mean little. I am grateful to have warriors like you beside me."

Mulan nodded, bowing her head respectfully. "It is my honor to serve under you, Guan Yu. We may not have won this battle, but the lessons learned from it are invaluable." She straightened, her gaze warm as she looked between the two men. "I pledge to support you, and to uphold the honor of this hall."

Musashi gave a slight nod, his eyes sharp and focused. "A victory earned through skill and endurance is one I respect deeply. I serve as assistant not by defeat, but by choice." He looked to Guan Yu and Mulan, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Together, we will create a hall worthy of those who seek to test themselves here."

Guan Yu's expression softened, a spark of pride glinting in his eyes. "Then let us seal this bond as warriors and kin." He lifted his blade, pointing it skyward in a gesture of solemnity. "In my homeland, we have a tradition—a pact between warriors, a binding of souls that goes beyond blood or birth. Today, I ask that we three swear such a bond here, in Avalon. A bond of loyalty and trust, binding us as brother and sister."

Mulan's face brightened, understanding the weight of the vow. "I accept this bond with honor, Guan Yu," she said, lifting her sword and placing it across her chest. "You as our first brother, a leader worthy of our respect and loyalty."

Musashi, though silent, brought his two swords together in front of him, bowing his head with a look of reverence. "I accept this bond, Guan Yu. From this day, you are my first brother. And to you, Mulan, my first sister. May we stand together in purpose and strength."

Guan Yu held out his arm, and Mulan and Musashi joined him, each placing a hand over his in a gesture of unity. In that moment, the air around them seemed to hum, as if Avalon itself recognized their vow. Each of them felt an invisible thread, binding them as kin in purpose and honor.

"To the Martial Hall," Guan Yu intoned, his voice carrying a solemn strength, "and to the warriors who enter it. May we teach them strength, discipline, and honor."

Mulan raised her chin, a glint of determination in her eyes. "To our brotherhood and sisterhood," she added, her voice filled with conviction. "May we protect each other and bring honor to this hall."

Musashi's voice joined theirs, quiet yet resolute. "To our pact, bound by the spirit of Avalon. And to each lesson, each battle we face together."

With the bond established, the three warriors took a step back, a newfound sense of camaraderie settling between them. They understood that this vow was more than words—it was a commitment to Avalon, to the Martial Hall, and to each other.

In silence, they raised their weapons in a final gesture of respect, sealing their pact as first brother, first sister, and second brother. It was a bond akin to that of the legendary brotherhood Guan Yu had once shared with Liu Bei and Zhang Fei—a pact of warriors who would defend each other to the last.

And so it was, as they lowered their weapons and cast a final look at one another, they knew they had not only gained comrades but kin.

...

The day had finally arrived: Geralt and Vesemir were preparing to leave Avalon. The knowledge they'd gained during their stay—a blend of magical techniques, alchemical secrets, and combat wisdom—was more than they could have imagined. And each new insight felt like another tool they could take back to Kaer Morhen, a rare chance to improve the skills and resources of the other Witchers.

Packing up their satchels, both men were silent, their thoughts lingering on the strange sanctuary and its residents. They'd come to respect Taliesin and Hecate, and even Arthur, the unexpected young steward of Avalon who'd shown them around this otherworldly place.

A few days earlier, they'd been drawn into an unexpected experience that felt like a strange but welcome interruption in their intense training. It had started when Taliesin interrupted them during a session in the Arcane Training Room.

"Right, you two!" Taliesin had announced, his tone brisk but his smile wry. "You've been cooped up in here long enough. Time to take a break and appreciate a simple pleasure."

Vesemir had looked up, his expression a blend of suspicion and reluctance. "It's not that we don't want to eat, Taliesin," he grumbled, "but there's too much to learn in here to be distracted by a meal."

Geralt nodded, frowning slightly. "We know Avalon's food would be a step above what we're used to, but the more time we spend out there, the less we're spending in here."

Taliesin merely chuckled, undeterred. "If you've trusted me with signs and spells, trust me in this—you'll want to make time for what Avalon's dining room has to offer."

Despite their hesitation, the Witchers finally followed Taliesin to the dining hall, where an unfamiliar but enticing aroma filled the air. They spotted Arthur by a long, polished counter, stirring a pot with a look of intense focus. The fragrance of spices and herbs was rich and complex, but interwoven with unfamiliar notes, hints of ingredients that both Witchers couldn't quite place.

Geralt raised an eyebrow, his nose twitching as he inhaled a delicate but powerful scent—something earthy, tinged with sweetness, that was completely unfamiliar. It was enough to capture even his attention.

Arthur looked up from his work, smiling when he noticed the newcomers. "Good, you made it. I'd been hoping to share some of Avalon's flavors with you." He gestured toward the ingredients laid out before him. "Some of these are… special. This here," he pointed to a small, brightly-colored fruit with golden streaks, "is Gillyfruit. It has restorative properties—something they use often in another world to enhance vitality."

Vesemir leaned in, his eyes widening with interest. "Gillyfruit, you say? And what about that?" He gestured to a bundle of odd leaves, which seemed to emit a faint shimmer in the light.

Arthur's eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. "Ah, that's Dirigible Plum Leaf. It's used to improve focus. From a world of wizards, in fact—a place where magic is woven into their everyday lives."

Geralt took a deep breath, taking in the aroma, his eyes sharp with curiosity. He didn't let on, but each ingredient sparked something in him—a curiosity to see how these foreign ingredients might work in a Witcher's potion.

Over the next several days, Geralt found himself returning to Arthur in the dining room, learning what he could about the mysterious ingredients from the wizarding world. Though Arthur thought Geralt was interested in learning about cooking, Geralt had other plans. Every herb, fruit, and extract was a puzzle to him, each one holding the potential to be used in a new alchemical formula.

One afternoon, as Arthur handed him a sample of a shimmering powder from a bright blue vial, he raised an eyebrow. "You know, Geralt, I never pictured you as a chef."

Geralt gave a faint smile. "Not quite. I'm thinking of uses beyond the kitchen. If these ingredients can boost vitality or focus, then maybe… they have properties that could be useful in my potions." He held the vial up to the light, watching as the powder shimmered. "Imagine if we could bring a formula like that back to Kaer Morhen."

Arthur blinked, understanding dawning. "Alchemy?"

"Precisely." Geralt capped the vial, stowing it in a small pouch at his side. "I appreciate the help, Arthur. You've given me something to think about."

As the time came for their departure, Arthur prepared a small satchel for each of them, filled with samples of the ingredients they'd encountered.

"Consider this my parting gift," he said, handing them over. "May it help you and the other Witchers on your journey."

Vesemir accepted his satchel, giving Arthur a rare, genuine smile. "You've shown us more than we expected, Arthur. If we ever come back, you'll know it by the sound of our boots."

Taliesin and Hecate joined them, standing in the lobby for a final goodbye. "It's been an honor, truly," Taliesin said, his usual levity replaced with sincerity. "The strength and focus you both bring—Avalon's better for having had it."

Geralt gave a slight nod. "You've taught us a lot, Taliesin. Maybe one day we'll trade songs for signs again."

Hecate's gaze flicked to Vesemir, a small smirk softening her sharp features. "Take care of those young Witchers back home," she said. "They'll be stronger because of what you've learned here."

Vesemir chuckled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "They'd better be. I don't plan on making this easy for them."

Arthur stepped forward, his expression sincere. "It's been a privilege, Geralt, Vesemir. Avalon will be here if you ever need it. You're always welcome."

With a final nod to each of them, Geralt and Vesemir stepped toward the main entrance. As they crossed the threshold, the magical warmth and energy of Avalon faded slightly, leaving them with the familiar, grounded feeling of their own world.

Yet as they looked out into the familiar woods beyond, each knew they would carry Avalon's secrets with them—ready to bring a new legacy back to Kaer Morhen.

As the doors closed behind Geralt and Vesemir, a soft chime sounded in the air, drawing Arthur's attention. A faint, familiar shimmer appeared before him, and Avalon's system notification unfolded like an elegant scroll, listing the skills and talents of the two Witchers that were now available for him to copy.

[System Notification: New Talents Available for Copying]

[~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~]

Vesemir's Talents

1) Alchemy Mastery – Vesemir's profound understanding of alchemical practices enables advanced potion crafting and precise ingredient preparation.

This includes:

- Elixir Creation: Ability to brew powerful potions, tonics, and poisons that yield unique effects based on Avalon's inter-world ingredients.

- Ingredient Enhancement: Techniques to maximize the potency of rare herbs and magical extracts.

- Purification Knowledge: Identify and purify toxic substances for safe use, optimizing concoctions for Avalon's unique guests.

2) Monster Lore – Centuries of study and battle experience give Vesemir an unparalleled understanding of creatures across multiple realms.

Skills include:

- Creature Weakness Identification: Knowledge of various monsters' vulnerabilities and resistances.

- Combat Tactics Against Monsters: Effective strategies for defeating supernatural creatures, from common beasts to rare and formidable adversaries.

- Enchantment Detection: Ability to sense curses and enchantments commonly placed on or by monsters.

3) Veteran's Stamina – Endurance born from years of rigorous training, allowing for extended physical and mental resilience.

Key features:

- Enhanced Recovery: Fast recovery during intense battle or training sessions.

- Focus Under Pressure: Maintain composure and clarity even in high-stress situations, invaluable for leading or protecting guests.

[~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~]

Geralt's Talents

1) Sign Mastery – Geralt's command of Witcher signs, versatile spells that require neither a wand nor complex incantations.

Skills include:

- Aard (Telekinetic Blast): Release a shockwave to knock back enemies or clear obstacles.

- Igni (Flame): Summon controlled flames, useful for defense, offense, or light.

- Quen (Protective Shield): Cast a magical shield for temporary invulnerability.

- Axii (Mind Influence): Calm or manipulate others, helpful in negotiation or diffusing tense situations.

2) Enhanced Combat Reflexes – Geralt's exceptional reaction speed, finely honed through years of Witcher training.

Abilities include:

- Quick Response Time: Near-instantaneous reaction to incoming attacks or threats.

- Improvised Defense: Ability to seamlessly use surroundings in combat for an advantage.

- Precision Strike: High accuracy and skill in delivering critical blows, especially effective against armored or fast-moving opponents.

3) Tracking and Survival – Geralt's expertise in tracking both magical and mundane targets through diverse terrains.

Skills cover:

- Advanced Tracking: Follow difficult trails left by beasts, monsters, or people, even over varied terrains.

- Environmental Adaptability: Skilled in identifying useful resources, finding shelter, and navigating in harsh or unknown environments.

- Stealth Techniques: Move silently when needed, evading detection from even the sharpest senses.

[~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~]

Arthur scanned the list, each option holding a distinct appeal. The opportunity to copy these skills could offer him something extraordinary, allowing him to adapt and grow in ways he hadn't yet explored.

As he pondered, Taliesin and Hecate approached him. Taliesin, his usual lightheartedness softened, gave Arthur an encouraging smile. "Quite the decision you've got there, Arthur," he remarked, glancing at the list. "But rest assured, whatever choice you make, it's yours to make alone."

Hecate folded her arms, nodding. "Taliesin and I won't involve ourselves in this. We'll respect whatever path you choose."

Arthur nodded in gratitude, though the weight of the decision lingered. "Thanks," he replied. "Each of these talents… they could change things here at Avalon."

"Then think on it," Taliesin said, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "There's no rush. Remember, a choice made with conviction is the one that will serve you best."

With a final nod, Taliesin and Hecate departed, heading back to the Arcane Training Room and leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. He returned his gaze to the system notification, mentally weighing each option.

Alchemy would broaden his knowledge of potions, a skill that could deepen his connection to Avalon's guests. Sign Mastery would grant him a taste of magic he hadn't yet touched—a form that was raw, powerful, and uniquely suited for direct action. Combat Reflexes could improve his self-defense, something he'd need if he ever ventured outside Avalon's borders. And Monster Lore would help him identify threats from different realms, giving him an edge in understanding Avalon's ever-diversifying guests.

Arthur crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on the list, feeling the potential of each talent. He knew this choice could shape his future—and Avalon's—more than anything he'd done before.

...

Back in the familiar, dense woods, Geralt and Vesemir took a moment to adjust to the forest's earthy scents and muted light. They barely had a chance to turn around before the shimmering door to Avalon faded, glowing briefly before disappearing into the air as though it had never existed.

They had little time to reminisce. Emerging from the thick underbrush with an ominous hiss was the creature that had chased them a week ago—the same basilisk that had driven them into Avalon's sanctuary. Its massive, scaled body glinted in the dappled sunlight, and its slitted yellow eyes fixed on them with predatory intent.

Geralt's hand went instinctively to his silver sword, but his stance held an edge of anticipation, almost… eagerness. This time, they weren't fleeing. Vesemir stood beside him, his own weapon drawn, a spark of grim satisfaction in his gaze. They had come out of Avalon with new knowledge and tools—enhanced reflexes, alchemical ingredients, and newfound skills. Facing the basilisk now almost felt like a ceremony, a way to mark their return.

The basilisk lunged, its muscular body coiling as it prepared to strike, but Vesemir acted first. Channeling his improved alchemical knowledge, he hurled a vial that Arthur had crafted specifically for them—a potent combination made from Avalon's ingredients and Vesemir's own touch. The vial shattered, releasing a mist of shimmering powder that clung to the basilisk's scales, slowly seeping into its skin.

The creature hissed, stumbling as the powder took effect, weakening it just enough for Geralt to spring into action. He raised his hand, focusing his newfound Sign Mastery, and cast Aard with an enhanced force. The telekinetic blast rippled through the air, sending the basilisk skidding back, disoriented.

With a knowing glance, Vesemir lunged in close, wielding his sword with newfound vigor and precision. The basilisk whipped its tail around, nearly knocking him off his feet, but Vesemir's reflexes, sharpened by his training in Avalon, allowed him to dodge just in time.

The basilisk reared up again, its venomous fangs bared. Geralt seized the moment, drawing on his recent training to summon Quen—a protective shield that shimmered around him, absorbing the impact as the basilisk lunged. With the shield absorbing the brunt of the attack, Geralt sidestepped, allowing Vesemir to come in from the other side.

"Let's finish this," Geralt muttered, a fierce focus in his eyes. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he cast Igni, a burst of controlled flame that struck the basilisk's flank, searing its scales and forcing it to recoil with a tortured hiss.

Vesemir, taking advantage of the creature's disoriented state, struck a deep blow into its exposed neck, his blade cutting through weakened scales. The basilisk thrashed, its massive body writhing as it attempted to defend itself, but Geralt was already there, using his enhanced reflexes to deliver the final strike—a precise thrust directly into its skull.

The forest grew silent as the basilisk collapsed to the ground, its long body finally still. Geralt and Vesemir exchanged a look of satisfaction, the weight of the encounter sinking in. They had faced this beast before, but now—with Avalon's knowledge in their hands—they had conquered it.

"Well," Vesemir said with a wry grin, cleaning his sword. "Looks like Avalon left us with more than just a few good memories."

Geralt smirked, nodding. "Feels like a fitting end. We didn't just leave with knowledge; we left with strength."

As the basilisk's body stilled, Geralt and Vesemir stood over it, their weapons still drawn as their breathing slowed. The usual chorus of birds and insects silenced by the brief but fierce battle.

Vesemir crouched first, running a practiced eye over the creature's massive form. "No sense letting it go to waste," he muttered, pulling a leather pouch from his belt. "Basilisk glands, scales, venom sacs… Kaer Morhen's stores could use a boost."

Geralt nodded, sheathing his sword and kneeling beside Vesemir. "Not to mention the coin we can make off the parts. With what we've learned in Avalon, there might even be a new way to use them." He gestured to the basilisk's talons, their sharp edges glinting in the light. "These could fetch a price on their own."

The two Witchers worked methodically, their hands deft as they harvested the creature's parts. Vesemir carefully removed the venom sacs near the basilisk's fangs, placing them in sealed vials he carried specifically for such occasions. Geralt worked on the scales, prying them loose one by one, noting their durability and sheen—perfect for reinforcing armor or crafting unique pieces.

"Think we can make a potion with this?" Geralt asked, holding up a shard of the basilisk's green-tinted carapace.

"Depends," Vesemir replied, inspecting the venom sac he had just secured. "The basilisk's venom could amplify a regeneration brew, but it'll need proper dilution. Too potent, and it'll kill you instead of helping." He paused, glancing at the shimmering powder on the basilisk's wounds, left over from their fight. "And with that stuff from Avalon… who knows? Might be worth experimenting."

Geralt smirked, nodding. "Could make for an interesting trial back at Kaer Morhen. A regeneration potion strong enough to rival a decoction… That'd keep the others busy."

Vesemir chuckled, his grizzled features softening with amusement. "Or give Eskel and Lambert something to complain about."

They continued their work, harvesting everything they could from the basilisk—its hides, fangs, and a section of its thick tail—all while speculating on how the parts might be used. The thick musk of the creature lingered in the air, but the Witchers paid it no mind, accustomed to far worse in their years of hunting.

Once they'd gathered all they could, Geralt stood, hefting the satchel full of basilisk remains over his shoulder. "That should do it," he said, glancing at Vesemir. "Kaer Morhen's going to be stocked for a while."

Vesemir rose, his own bag slung across his back. "And the market in Novigrad won't say no to the leftovers," he added, his tone practical. "We've got enough here to pay for repairs—and then some."

With their trophies secured, they cast one last glance at the basilisk's lifeless body before heading back into the woods. The weight of their satchels was a satisfying reminder of their victory, and the knowledge they carried from Avalon made it all the more valuable. Every step toward Kaer Morhen felt like progress, a path forward for not just themselves, but the entire Witcher order.