Game in Marvel-Chapter 125

"They stripped a lot of it from me when I was young. Forced the emotions out, dulled them down. I can still feel, but it's... distant. Muted." Geralt continued. "I don't regret being a Witcher. It's what I am. But... there are times I miss the part of me that could really feel. Maybe I would've been a better man if I had emotions like you do."

"You seem to care enough." Liam muttered as he remembered when he first played the game and took bad decisions, and Ciri died at the end, Geralt ended up crying after killing the last Crone. It was also one of the reasons why he went for Crones.

In the first playthrough, they had traumatized Liam a bit and thus he needed to take that revenge. Liam was a man who would always go for the revenge. Mephisto had taken his Blades away and he hadn't forgotten that.

He will get back at him but he would need to find a replacement first.

"Maybe. I suppose I have my moments." Geralt looked ahead toward the distant mountains. "Just don't be so quick to throw away the parts of yourself that make you human. You might not realize how much you need them until they're gone."

Liam didn't answer right away. But something about Geralt's words lingered with him. It was strange—he had always assumed he was doing what was necessary. He just didn't realize that he had slowly losing all emotions while being in his path to save what he could or can.

As they rounded the final bend in the mountain path, the team finally laid eyes on Kaer Morhen—the ruined keep of the Wolf School. A winding path of broken cobblestone led up to the castle, flanked by jagged cliffs and the remnants of what had once been a sturdy bridge, now crumbled away with time.

Liam had seen all of this before in The Witcher 3, but this was different. The sheer scale of it all made him feel small. The keep stood taller than he had ever imagined, its walls weathered by centuries of wind and snow. The massive wooden gates were still intact but bore the scars of past battles, claw marks and gashes telling their own story.

The moment they stepped through the entrance, the vast courtyard opened before them. The pillars where Ciri and the others had once practiced blindfolded stood resolute. To the left, the remains of a wooden platform jutted out from the keep's wall, where the Witchers had likely observed training sessions.

"Damn... this place is huge." Steve couldn't help but mutter.

Geralt and Triss, the only ones truly familiar with this place, walked ahead without hesitation. Geralt had lived here for decades, and for Triss, this place held bittersweet memories.

Despite the ruin, there was a strange beauty to Kaer Morhen. The view from the platform to the outside of Kaer Morhen was nothing short of extraordinary. The scenic beauty this place held would put any place in Europe or USA to shame.

This could be a good tourist destination.

"Ah, finally, you're here," Vesemir said, stepping forward to greet them. He was about to say something when his expression suddenly changed. His nose twitched, and his brow furrowed as he inhaled sharply.

The thick, unmistakable scent of blood hung in the air. And it was coming from Liam. Vesemir's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, though he did not unsheathe it.

"It's a long story, but let's just say Redania won't be the same anymore." Geralt noticed the reaction and spoke first.

Vesemir's eyes flicked to Geralt, then back to Liam. He studied the young man's face, noting how calm he appeared despite the unmistakable stench of slaughter clinging to him. A Witcher might have needed decades to be so composed after such bloodshed.

"I don't need to hear the details," Vesemir muttered. "I can already imagine."

Liam remained silent, not bothering to explain himself. There was no point.

"Well, whatever you've done... it's would change things. Radovid was a mad tyrant, but now you've left Nilfgaard in charge of the North." His voice carried both relief and regret. "One tyrant for another, some would say."

"Nilfgaard isn't perfect, but it's a damn sight better than Radovid's reign of terror." Triss spoke up in defense of Nilfgaard. Nilfgaard didn't have a witch hunt policy and though they didn't welcome sorcerers into their political circle, it was still better than Redenia.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Time will tell." Vesemir shook his as he looked at Liam again. "Still... I'm glad you had the strength to do what you did. Even if it's not something that comes without its weight." A moment of silence followed before Vesemir motioned toward the stairs.

"Come on, you all look like you've been running for days. You can take the apprentice quarters. They're not much, but it'll give you a place to rest." As he turned, another figure shuffled forward from behind him—Uma.

"Aye aye aye..." Uma mumbled, squinting up at the newcomers.

"That," Vesemir said with a tired sigh, "is Uma." He looked at Liam and wanted to curse this man a bit, if not for the favors he might not have accepted this ugly duckling at all. Though Vesemir had grown to like and sympathize with this being, it didn't mean he would by any form would ever equate this Uma with an elf.

There was no way.

"Let's just get some rest first. We can deal with the other topics later." Natasha said.

"Good idea. Follow me." Vesemir nodded.

Liam and others didn't take much time to hit the beds, after making it to their own style. While they did so, Vesemir came back with some food for the whole group. And everyone was beyond thankful for the food as they were starving and even Liam, who always carried food couldn't help but gulp down the delicious stew that Vesemir had made for them

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