Triss interrupted him and waved her hand to cast a cleaning spell, quickly tidying up the scene.
Triss's tolerance only embarrassed Geralt further; he could only nod silently, and his subsequent operations became more cautious.
When everything was ready, Karl and Geralt met secretly with Foltest.
Hearing that they were about to move, Foltest suddenly rose from his seat, his face a mix of excitement, anticipation, and deep worry.
"So soon? Are you... are you sure?"
What he feared most was hearing news of failure, which would completely shatter his last hope.
"We will do our best, Your Majesty." Karl replied calmly.
Foltest took a deep breath, his gaze first shifting to Geralt, and his voice was businesslike: "Witcher, if you solve this problem, the Temerian royal family will pay you... five hundred Orens."
The reward was generous for a Witcher, but it was a different matter compared to the promise he had made to Karl.
Then he looked at Karl, his voice clearly concerned and even encouraging: "Karl, do you need me to send another team... no, five of the most elite knights to assist you?"
"They can respond from the periphery, at least to protect you!"
His worry was palpable; he valued Karl—a potential asset for the future—and didn't want him to be compromised here.
As for the Witcher Geralt's safety, he didn't particularly care.
Five knights... protect him? If he and Geralt couldn't deal with the Striga, five knights would just be feeding teeth on their way out.
Karl firmly shook his head and declined Foltest's offer: "Thank you, Your Majesty. But too many people might lead to unnecessary casualties and even anger the target. Lambert and I have cooperated enough."
He needed flexibility and precise strikes, not ordinary people who might hinder him or even become a burden.
Foltest saw that Karl was resolute and didn't insist.
He said a few more words about being careful, then let them go with a heap of worries.
......
When night fell, Karl, Geralt, and Triss were in the laboratory, making final preparations.
The light of Arzu's Shield flickered on Karl and Geralt in turn.
Finally, Triss carefully left a complex magical marker on the inside of Karl's collar and helped him put on his plate armor.
The magic crystal ball was placed in the center, reflecting a blurry image of the old palace.
Night shrouded the ruined old Vizima palace in an ominous silence.
When Karl and Geralt arrived at the outer guard post, they found an unexpected figure.
Foltest was nervously pacing by the campfire, his exquisite fur cloak out of place against the backdrop of the surrounding dilapidation.
As soon as he saw the two of them, he quickly greeted them, his face full of anticipation and hidden worry.
"You're finally here! Be careful, Karl!"
His voice was a little hoarse from nervousness, and his gaze was first fixed on Karl.
"Listen, if you're injured, don't be brave! Retreat immediately; saving your life is the most important thing."
"As for Adda... we can find another way!" He firmly grabbed Karl's shoulder and spoke sincerely.
Then, as if just noticing Geralt, he turned to the Witcher.
His tone instantly became businesslike, even with a hint of alienation: "Witcher, do what you need to do. The royal family will not treat those who serve poorly."
This attitude, like ordering a tool, contrasted sharply with the sincere advice given to Karl.
Geralt was expressionless, just nodding slightly, long accustomed to such treatment.
Foltest looked one last time at the dark palace entrance, as if trying to pierce through the obstacles and see his daughter inside.
He sighed and waved his hand: "Go... May the goddess Melitele bless you... and my Adda."
Karl and Geralt said nothing more and turned to step into the ruins that devoured the light.
As soon as they entered the palace, the familiar rancid and bloody smell hit them, even stronger than during the day.
In the darkness, it felt like invisible eyes were watching them.
Geralt immediately took out two bottles of alchemical potions from his belt.
One bottle was Thunderbolt, which increased strength, and the other was Blizzard, which enhanced reflexes.
He raised his head and drank without hesitation; the alchemical potions took effect quickly.
The blood vessels on his face bulged slightly, dense black lines filled his face, and his pupils narrowed even more in the darkness.
Geralt adjusted to the potion's effects, and instead of the sensory flood it brought, he turned his head to Karl.
"Now, as the rumors go, we lift the curse...?" Karl gripped his sword hilt and asked quietly.
You know, ultimately Foltest wanted his daughter back, not a monster's corpse.
Geralt nodded, his voice even lower and hoarser under the potion's influence: "Yes. Legend... such monsters born of curses usually have an anchor or lair they need to return to."
"For Adda, it's most likely the sarcophagus where she was buried. We need to draw her out of it."
"And then... one person stays in that place and remains safe all night until dawn."
"The curse cycle is broken, and perhaps she can return to human form."
Karl immediately grasped the key: "It might not be difficult to draw her out, but how can you stay safe in that place all night under her frantic attacks?"
"...That's the hardest part. There will be a way."
Geralt admitted frankly, his cat-like eyes scanning the darkness ahead.
But his tone didn't sound as confident as his words.
A Witcher's career was full of uncertainties, and often he could only rely on on-the-spot reflexes and a bit of luck.
......
Meanwhile, inside the laboratory in the Temple District,
Triss stared intently at the magic crystal ball on the table.
The sphere clearly showed images of Karl and Geralt moving through the dimly lit palace, and even their whispers were faintly audible.
Her hands were tightly clenched, her knuckles white from the pressure, her heart full of anxiety.
She could only repeat to herself to stay calm and be ready to activate the life-saving teleportation spell at any moment.
Inside the palace, they moved forward by the weak moonlight, and Geralt occasionally relied on his Witcher senses to adjust their course.
Soon, in a relatively intact side hall deep within the palace, they found their target.
A huge marble sarcophagus, the lid not completely closed, resting diagonally.
Geralt cautiously approached, gently prying open the corner of the lid with his hand.
But the inside was surprisingly clean, with no bones or decay as expected.