MTL NOVEL Chapter 5: Chapter-5
Kael studied the man's face, looking for deception, for hesitation. None came. The stranger was guarded, yes—but not a liar. For now.
He tightened his grip on the dagger, keeping it within reach but no longer pressing it to the man's throat. A small gesture. A warning, not a threat.
"Who buried this place?" Kael asked, voice low and steady.
The man exhaled through his nose, glancing at the ruined walls around them. "Witchers."
Kael's expression didn't change, but the answer landed heavy in his chest.
'Witchers? Burying one of their own strongholds?' That wasn't common. The schools were territorial, secretive, but they didn't destroy their own history.
The man continued, watching Kael's reaction. "Not just any. I suspect the Wolf School—your people."
Kael said nothing. He didn't know what school he belonged to—not really. His medallion had been lost, his memories fractured. But the Wolf School? That name felt familiar, like a whisper just out of reach. Still, he pressed on. "Then why are you here?"
The man hesitated, but only for a second. "Because of the book."
Kael's eyes flickered toward the chest. "What's in it?"
The stranger's lips pressed into a thin line. This was the real reason he was here. The real prize. Then, finally, he answered.
"A record of the First Trials."
Kael went still. The First Trials—the earliest Witcher experiments. The kind that had been abandoned, their methods deemed too brutal, too unpredictable. The kind that had led to him. His fingers curled slightly around the dagger's hilt. That book might hold answers about what he was, about who he had been.
He locked eyes with the man again. "Who sent you?"
The stranger exhaled. "I don't know their real name. They call themselves the Archivist."
That was all Kael needed to hear. Someone out there wanted this knowledge. Someone powerful enough to track down a forgotten ruin and send people to recover its secrets. Kael's grip tightened. That meant he wasn't safe.
Kael made his decision in an instant. With his free hand, he reached into the chest and seized the book. The worn leather felt ancient beneath his fingers, the faint hum of magic running through it like an old heartbeat. The stranger stiffened but didn't move. He knew fighting was pointless.
Kael flipped through the pages. The script inside was precise, methodical, clinical. It wasn't a simple record—it was a ledger of experiments, failures, and results. The trials that came before the modern Witcher mutations.
The lost history of their creation.
Kael snapped the book shut and met the man's gaze. "This knowledge doesn't belong to whoever sent you."
The man exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "And it belongs to you?"
Kael didn't answer. He had no school, no home, no brothers—but this book held pieces of his past. That was enough. Now, he needed to know more.
He crouched in front of the man, still holding the dagger loosely at his side. "Tell me everything about this 'Archivist.'"
The stranger let out a slow breath. "I already told you—I don't know their real name. Only that they're old. Older than most mages I've met. And that they… collect things."
Kael frowned. "What kind of things?"
"Knowledge. Forgotten texts, lost artifacts, experiments that were erased from history. Things people like you were never supposed to find."
Kael processed that. So, the Archivist wasn't just after Witcher history they were after lost power. That made them dangerous.
He narrowed his eyes. "How did you find this place?"
The man hesitated, then answered, "I was given a map."
Kael's jaw tightened. Someone had mapped out this ruin. That meant this wasn't just a chance discovery—someone knew about him.
That was all he needed to hear. Kael didn't hesitate.
Before the man could react, Kael struck him—a swift, precise blow to the side of his head. The stranger's body went limp, slumping to the cold stone floor.
No kill. No blood.
Kael wasn't interested in a corpse—he wanted time. Time to disappear before whoever sent this man realized he had failed. He crouched down, searching the unconscious figure for anything useful.
A small map – Old, worn, and marked with locations. More ruins? Or places of interest? A coin pouch – Kael counted quickly. Enough to get by for a while. A vial of the same reagent – The one used to disable the chest's enchantment. Could be useful. A folded note – A message, written in careful script:"Do not fail. Return as soon as you have it. Do not read it." No signature. No name.
Kael frowned. 'Someone was waiting for him'
He moved to the chest next, searching through the forgotten relics. Most were useless—decayed cloth, rusted tools. But a few things stood out.
A set of old Witcher armor – Worn, but still serviceable. Strange design… not Wolf School. A silver dagger – Lighter than his own, etched with faded runes. A backup weapon. A small vial of mutagenic extract – Thick, dark liquid. Still potent? Or too old to be useful? A broken medallion – The design was almost feline. Not quite Wolf, but similar. Another lost school?
Kael took what he could carry. No time to linger. He cast one last glance at the unconscious man, then disappeared into the ruins. He had a book full of lost knowledge. He had a map. And now, he had a name—The Archivist. Someone out there was hunting for the past.
And now, Kael was hunting them.