The Witcher : Against Destiny

The lab was in shambles.

Glass shards crunched under Alaric's boots as he shifted uncomfortably in the center of the room. His bare torso was strapped with leather harnesses bristling with pulsating crystals and glowing runes, each faintly humming with magical energy. Wires connected him to strange devices that whirred, clicked, and occasionally spat out sparks.

To his left, a small cage held a jittery rabbit, its eyes wide with panic as it pawed at its prison. To his right, a stack of charred books smoked ominously, likely the aftermath of an earlier 'experiment'.

Igor de Sad, the architect of this chaos, stood a few feet away, furiously scribbling in his notebook while grinning like a madman. "Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating!" he exclaimed, his eyes darting between Alaric and a spindly device that looked like it might explode at any second.

"This feels like the start of a very bad joke," Alaric muttered, wincing as one of the crystals on his chest began to vibrate uncontrollably. "'A Witcher walks into a mage's lab...'"

"And redefines the limits of magical potential!" Igor interjected gleefully, completely ignoring the tremor in Alaric's voice. "Now, Alaric, let's try the telekinetic blast again. Full power this time. No holding back!"

"I wasn't holding back last time," Alaric replied dryly, glancing at the shattered wall where his last attempt had left a sizeable dent. "And that nearly took the roof off."

"All the better! Think of the data we will get!" Igor waved his quill dramatically. "Now, on three... one—"

Before Igor could finish, Alaric let loose a telekinetic blast. The air cracked like thunder as an invisible force rippled outward, sending a table, several bookshelves, and Igor himself flying across the room. The rabbit's cage toppled, and the poor creature let out a terrified squeak as it scrambled to hide beneath a pile of debris.

Igor landed unceremoniously against the far wall, his notebook fluttering to the floor. For a moment, there was silence, save for the faint creaking of unstable furniture. Then Igor burst into laughter.

"Marvelous! Simply marvelous!" he crowed, climbing to his feet and dusting himself off. "Did you see the power in that blast? Purely telekinesis, yet so refined! Alaric, my boy, you're a walking miracle!"

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Glad to hear it. Now, can I put my shirt back on before something worse happens?"

"Nonsense! We're only just getting started!" Igor darted back to his instruments, his hands moving with frantic energy as he adjusted a few dials. "Now, how about some Axii? The rabbit should do nicely—coax it to calm down. Oh, and try not to destroy anything this time."

Alaric sighed, crouching near the rabbit's overturned cage. The poor creature was trembling, its tiny body pressed into the corner. "You owe this thing an apology, you know," he muttered before focusing his energy. A faint shimmer emanated from his amber eyes, and the rabbit froze, its twitching nose going still.

Igor clapped his hands in delight. "Brilliant! Oh, that's not just suggestion—that's a full-on enforcement of your will! Do it again!"

"Not sure how much more willpower I've got than rodents," Alaric quipped, standing up. "Got anything bigger? Or quieter?"

Igor ignored him, flipping through his notebook. "No time to waste! Let's move on to Igni! You've got that under control now, right?"

"Define 'control,'" Alaric said flatly.

But Igor was already clearing a space in the center of the room, pushing a stack of precariously balanced glass vials out of the way. "Just a small flame! A spark! Barely anything at all!"

Alaric sighed heavily. "Fine. But if I burn this place down, I'm blaming you." He focused, his hands twitching as he summoned the fire. A burst of orange flame erupted in his palm—too big, too wild. The flames spiraled out of control, licking at the walls and ceiling before Alaric extinguished them with a hurried swipe of his hand.

The aftermath was immediate: a nearby contraption exploded in a shower of sparks, a curtain caught fire, and Igor let out a delighted whoop.

"HAHAHA! Did you see that?!" Igor exclaimed, his face illuminated by the flickering flames. "The way the ambient magic fed the fire! I've never seen anything like it! Oh, I almost died—that's enthralling!"

Alaric grabbed a nearby blanket and smothered the flames with a few frustrated stomps. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Perhaps!" Igor beamed. "But this—this is groundbreaking! Alaric, do you realize what this means? The raw energy you're releasing—it's writing new rules of magical theory!"

"Great. I'll be sure to let the bards know if we survive this," Alaric deadpanned, glancing warily at another crystal that had begun to glow ominously.

Somehow—through a mix of quick reflexes, sheer luck, and Alaric's stubborn refusal to die—they managed to the session without the entire lab collapsing. Igor, undeterred by the destruction, was already planning their next experiment, while Alaric hastily re-dressed, muttering about finding safer career options.

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Igor clapped Alaric on the back. "You did splendidly today, my friend! Absolutely splendidly! Same time tomorrow?"

Alaric shot him a withering glare. "I'm starting to think you have a death wish."

Igor grinned. "Perhaps. But it's all in the name of magic!"

Alaric shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. "You're going to get us both killed one day, Igor."

"Ah, but what a way to go!" Igor replied, his laughter echoing into the night.

...…

A few days later-

Igor de Sade was practically buzzing with excitement, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit chamber. Shelves lined the walls, filled with dusty tomes and alchemical tools, while the air shimmered faintly with latent magical energy. Alaric sat on a sturdy wooden stool, his arms crossed, his amber eyes tracking Igor's every exaggerated movement.

"You see, Alaric," Igor began, stopping mid-pace to gesture wildly, "magic isn't something everyone can just pick up. You can't brute force your way into it like learning swordplay. It's delicate—a merging of talent and, most importantly, the right physique."

"Physique?" Alaric echoed, his tone flat but curious.

"Yes! The body, the very essence of a mage, must be capable of harnessing the Power—the Force," Igor explained, his voice taking on the tone of a lecturer in a grand hall. "This Force—this Power—is the lifeblood of magic. Many confuse it with Chaos, but that's a narrow, ignorant view. True scholars like myself understand it's so much more. It's an infinite spectrum of energy flowing from the Elemental Planes—Air, Fire, Earth, Water—all coursing through the material world via ley lines."

"And only certain people can tap into these ley lines."

"Exactly!" Igor clapped his hands, his blue eyes sparkling with delight. "To wield magic, you need the innate talent to sense and shape it. But even then, you need the physique—a body capable of handling that energy without burning out. Most people lack one or the other. Mages are rare because they have both."

"And Witchers?" Alaric leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite himself.

"Ah, Witchers!" Igor's expression shifted to one of fascination, and he pointed dramatically at Alaric. "You lot are unique! Mostly normal humans, yes, but subjected to the most horrifying mutations imaginable—mutations designed to forcibly create a physique capable of harnessing magic."

"So artificial warrior-mages," Alaric said quietly, his eyes narrowing.

"Precisely!" Igor said, spinning around and wagging a finger. "The original Witchers—they didn't turn out as planned. Sure, they could dabble in magic, but their potential was limited. They were deemed failures and booted from Rissberg Castle. That's where you Witchers, with the help of great mage Alzur developed those fascinating Signs of yours—a form of pseudo-magic that, while simple, is brutally effective in combat when used well."

Alaric frowned. "So what's the difference between me and them?"

"Oh, you're not just some failed experiment, Alaric." Igor's voice dropped to an almost reverent tone. "You're a Source. Sources are an entirely different breed! Unlike normal mages, who draw power from ley lines, Sources are the Power. You're like a walking transmitter of raw magical energy—a living conduit connected directly to the Elemental Planes. That kind of innate potential is as rare as hen's teeth, my friend."

Alaric crossed his arms again, his expression guarded. "And let me guess—there's a catch."

"Oh, absolutely!" Igor threw his hands into the air. "It's a huge double-edged sword. Sources like you have immense power, but controlling it? Ha! That's the hard part. Most Sources either lose their minds or burn out completely because they can't stop the magic from tearing them apart. If not given proper training of course."

"But I'm still here," Alaric said pointedly.

"Exactly! And that's where your Witcher mutations come in." Igor jabbed a finger at Alaric's chest. "Your mutations and training have done the impossible. They've stabilized you, kept you from becoming a magical vegetable. But—and this is a big but—those same mutations also messed with your ability to control your power."

Alaric frowned deeply, his fingers drumming against his arm. "What do you mean by that?"

"You don't wield magic like a mage," Igor explained, pacing again. "You leak it. Constantly. Your body is always transmitting magical energy into your surroundings, which makes it incredibly hard for you to focus or control it. That's why Signs like Axii and Aard come naturally to you—it's mind magic, and you've got a damn strong mind. But the others? They're a nightmare because your magic doesn't flow like a mage's. It's raw, chaotic, ambient power."

"And Igni?" Alaric asked, thinking of the hours of grueling practice it had taken to master even a spark of flame.

"Igni is an exception," Igor said with a grin. "With sheer grit and practice, you've managed to shape that raw power into fire—a pure elemental combustion. But let's not kid ourselves, Alaric. You didn't learn Igni so much as you wrestled it into submission."

"Comforting," Alaric muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, don't look so glum!" Igor said brightly. "You're a marvel of magical evolution! Sure, it's harder for you to control your power, but when you do? You will be unstoppable. A walking storm contained in human form. And with my help," he added, puffing out his chest, "you'll learn to channel that chaos into something extraordinary."

Alaric stared at Igor for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed. "Alright, Igor. Show me what you've got."

"Now we're talking!" Igor crowed, practically bouncing with excitement. "Let's start with something simple, shall we? Maybe controlling your magical leakage—or would you prefer trying to harness a bit of earth magic? The possibilities are endless!"

"Just... try not to blow me up," Alaric muttered.

"No promises!" Igor replied cheerfully, already gathering materials for their first experiment.

-x-x-x-

A/N:-

Got ideas for future arcs or plots? Maybe there's something you'd love to see our main character tackle sometime in the future? Comment down below!

While I have a general direction for the early plot, I'm actively brainstorming for the later arcs. Your input would be incredibly valuable. Even the simplest ideas or spontaneous musings can ignite a spark and help clear those creative blocks.

So, don't hesitate—share your thoughts!

As always, if you have any questions, feel free to comment. I will do my best to answer without spoiling too much.

Clear skies to all of you! ✨