The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

"Of course," Allen stroked the stubble on his chin, "releasing everything at once would just scare off the already demoralized male sorcerers."

"If that happens, there won't be anyone left to attract the Wild Hunt's attention."

"It's a delicate balance, very delicate. I need to think carefully and plan… hmm?"

His ears twitched as he picked up an unusual sound. Tilting his head, he looked down at the ground.

"...Our savior hero!"

"Charge!"

Cheers gave way to battle cries in the valley as human soldiers, wielding dimly glowing weapons, charged toward the ghouls.

The one leading the charge, with the most fervor and effort, was none other than his old acquaintance, Sara.

"Is this… is this them thinking I'm trapped in the tide of monsters, rushing to save me?"

Allen paused, warmth rising in his heart. Without wasting time, he sent a mental command to the royal griffin.

"Caw!"

With a powerful pressure sweeping across the valley, the royal griffin's cry echoed, as if announcing the return of a hero.

The battlefield fell silent for a moment.

All living beings instinctively looked up to the sky.

"Allen!"

Seeing the silhouette of the royal griffin descending, Vesemir's eyes lit up.

A quick Aard sign scattered the ghouls, which were dazed and confused, having just escaped the control of the dark god only to be slaughtered.

After dismounting her grotesque horse, Ianna smiled with relief but didn't order the troops to disengage.

Even though Allen no longer needed rescuing, the ghouls still needed to be eliminated.

Taking advantage of their weakened state after the banishment of the dark god and the blessing of Melitele still lingering, this was the best time to deal with them. Delaying it would only make future battles more difficult.

Tissaia cooperated, too. Upon confirming Allen's safety, she commanded the sorceresses of Aretuza to stop holding back and to intensify their magical output.

She then glanced up at the massive creature that eclipsed the stars and moon, her expression unreadable.

The enchantingly dressed sorceresses obeyed their leader's orders, summoning fire and lightning to strike down the ghouls, rotfiends, and alghouls near the valley's entrance. Yet, their gazes frequently drifted toward the sky, some unconsciously smoothing their hair or adjusting the creases in their fine garments.

"Whoosh… whoosh…"

Howling winds bent the trees, making them rustle and sway.

"Caw—!"

The royal griffin, towering above the treetops, landed with a mighty thud.

Although its aura of dominance had only briefly flared in the sky as a warning before being withdrawn, the primal fear it invoked was palpable at such close range.

Ordinary soldiers instinctively stepped back to make way, while some of the sorceresses from Aretuza lowered their staves and cautiously watched the king of the skies.

Under everyone's watchful gaze.

The witcher, clad in dark red leather armor and bearing twin swords, with piercing blue cat eyes, emerged from the thick black mane of the royal griffin.

The griffin surveyed the crowd with its keen eagle eyes, lightly extending one of its wings to rest on the ground, as though laying down an elegant black-and-red carpet.

Walking down this "carpet," step by step, Allen descended. Though his appearance was slightly disheveled, he carried an air of innate authority.

The god-slayer!

This witcher had just driven away an dark god all on his own.

"How can he be so young? Don't witchers use youth potions? But don't they usually lock their appearance in middle age?" one sorceress whispered, noticing Allen for the first time.

"You don't know?!" her companion replied, shocked.

"Know what?"

"Allen… Master Allen didn't take any youth potion. He's naturally this young. If I recall correctly, he's only fourteen…"

"Fourteen?!" the first sorceress exclaimed. Her reaction, however, wasn't out of place amidst the similarly astonished reactions of others around her.

She then noticed the peculiar term her companion used. "Wait… Master Allen? Are you saying he's already a Master Witcher?"

"You really don't know anything, do you?" her companion seemed genuinely surprised. "It's normal if you hadn't heard of him before, but it was also him who summoned Melitele's divine oracle and received her blessings at the temple. You didn't hear about that?"

"Not everyone attended the meeting," the first sorceress shook her head. "I caught some rumors but didn't get a chance to ask before we headed up the mountain…"

"Then let me tell you all about what this young hot-headed—cough—witcher has done."

Among the sorceresses, many were just as unaware of Allen, while others knew bits and pieces. But their inherent pride as sorceresses often kept them from delving too deeply into details about someone outside their craft.

Now, instead of whispering, they openly discussed him.

The more outgoing ones even turned directly to the nearby priests for information.

In response, the priestesses of Melitele proudly raised their chins and began singing praises of Allen, their admiration spilling over in waves.

Meanwhile, a select few sorceresses who knew "enough" about Allen focused on other aspects—some very specific details.

"He doesn't have a single injury…"

Tissaia blinked in surprise, her sharp eyes glancing over him.

Despite the mixture of blood and dirt smeared all over Allen, giving him a rather bedraggled appearance, his leather armor was completely intact.

She turned to Vesemir, who was running toward them in excitement.

He was older, more experienced, and supposedly Allen's traveling mentor.

Yet he…

His greaves were torn open by claw marks, his shoulder guards with dimeritium reinforcement were dented, the stitching of his armor had burst from sheer force, and his back bore charred, carbonized scars from acidic burns…

Even his face had a few long, half-healed scars.

Tissaia wasn't doubting Vesemir's level as a witcher master.

Getting injured was normal.

No matter how experienced a warrior was, they couldn't claim to remain unscathed in an intense battlefield, especially when surrounded.

Even Tissaia, as a sorceress, understood that trading minor injuries for critical blows or trading critical blows for fatal ones was standard in combat. On the battlefield, scrapes and bruises from sharp rocks during dodges or impacts were completely normal.

Moreover, Vesemir wasn't dealing with ordinary humans but with ghouls, rotfiends, and alghouls controlled by an dark god.

Observing the damage on his armor, Tissaia could visualize how he used his shoulder guard to block bites from behind, finishing off an alghoul, and how he couldn't dodge a venom-spewing rotfiend's explosion in time, forcing him to endure the blast with his back...

To achieve such results, he was undoubtedly deserving of his title as the youngest—formerly the youngest—master witcher of the School of the Wolf.

"But what's with this apprentice of Vera's?" Tissaia frowned in confusion.

How did he deal with the dark god so "cleanly"?

And…

He succeeded!

He actually managed to drive away an dark god!

Tissaia scrutinized Allen as he dismounted the royal griffin. "This isn't normal! Not normal at all!"

Her gaze shifted.

The royal griffin, infamous for its violent and savage nature, was now behaving more docilely than a domesticated pigeon.

"How could he achieve this?"

"Who came up with the taming method?"

"Vera?"

"But her research focus isn't even in this field…"

Thoughts churned in her mind, one question after another surfacing.

Tissaia deliberated for a moment before fixing her gaze on the griffin.

"Caw~"

The griffin seemed to detect an unfriendly stare. It let out a low growl, its sharp talons scraping the ground, and a violent, oppressive aura emanated from its golden eyes.

"How odd…" Tissaia averted her gaze, her suspicion only deepening.

The griffin's innate savagery remained, indicating it wasn't raised from a young age.

Of course, even raising one from an egg wouldn't eliminate the beast's inherent ferocity, but still…

With so much prey in front of it, it only showed mild aggression and made no moves to attack.

Even the fat cats of Aretuza Academy seemed more eager to fight than this griffin.

"Go now, good girl," Allen said, soothing the griffin as he patted its wing.

The massive beast then pushed off the ground with its sharp talons, its shadowy wings spreading wide. Dust flew everywhere as it launched into the sky.

"No injuries, driving out an dark god… taming a royal griffin… and even a potion formula like sword oil, which narrows the gap between ordinary people and extraordinary beings…"

Tissaia watched Allen approach, deep in thought.

-----------------------------

"I sent the griffin to help deal with the necrophages," Allen said.

Suppressing his physical exhaustion, he ignored the admiring, reverent, or suspicious gazes around him. With an air of nonchalance, he walked slowly toward Ianna and her strange-looking horse.

It wasn't that revealing his fatigue would pose any immediate danger. With Vesemir, Ianna, the temple priests, and Ellander's soldiers present, even the strongest woman on the Continent, Tissaia, would face difficulty if she harbored ill intentions toward him.

But with so many eyes watching, the less information he revealed, the better.

And, of course…

With so many people idolizing him, Allen couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of pressure to maintain his image.

Ianna hadn't even spoken yet when—

"Hahaha~" Vesemir laughed heartily as he strode over and gave Allen a forceful hug. "I knew you could…"

Vesemir's voice faltered.

As his arms wrapped around Allen, he noticed how soft and weak the young witcher felt—like freshly baked bread—and how light he was, almost like a feather. Vesemir nearly knocked him over entirely.

Fortunately, Vesemir's reflexes were sharp. Sensing something off the moment he touched Allen, he adjusted his movements immediately.

His hands shifted naturally to Allen's shoulders, holding him steady.

"I knew you could… pull it off!" Vesemir laughed boisterously again, concealing his concern as he gave Allen a meaningful look.

"Just some short-term aftereffects," Allen whispered faintly, barely moving his lips. "I'll be fine."

Vesemir released him.

"The dark god has been banished?" Ianna asked, her tone warm and kind.

"Banished," Allen affirmed resolutely, nodding firmly as he turned his gaze toward the valley.

The smoke and dust from the explosion were gradually dispersed by the flapping wings of the royal griffin, revealing the valley more clearly.

The Aen Seidhe tower, which had been consumed by flesh and blood during the summoning ritual, was nowhere to be seen. All that remained was a ruin littered with scattered bones and rubble.

It was undoubtedly destroyed beyond any chance of recovery.

However, the surrounding necrophages were still numerous, with an estimated two or three thousand of them remaining.

Aside from ghouls, rotfiends, alghouls, and venom-spewing rotfiends, there didn't seem to be any other unfamiliar large monsters present.

"Were all the large monsters from the Conjunction of the Spheres killed?" Allen speculated.

It wasn't too surprising, given that the Conjunction of the Spheres occurred right at the Aen Seidhe tower, directly under the summoning ritual.

But for even the large monsters summoned through the conjunction, like the alghoul, to disappear so unceremoniously felt… a bit odd.

"Sir Allen," Tissaia dismounted her strange horse and approached him. "Could you explain how you destroyed the summoning ritual and banished the dark god?"

Nearby sorceresses casting spells and priests using divine magic to protect soldiers subtly slowed their movements, perking up their ears.

But before Allen could figure out how to fabricate an answer…

"Would you share your ultimate techniques with others?" Ianna glared at Tissaia, clearly displeased.

Without waiting for the response of the Continent's most renowned sorceress, Ianna's expression shifted instantly from anger to a gentle smile as she turned to Allen, offering advice:

"You're still young, so let this old woman teach you a lesson…"

"A dagger kept hidden is always more dangerous than a sword drawn in the open."

"Why are you so guarded against me, Ianna?" Tissaia sighed, giving Allen a wry smile. "I was only asking, not interrogating…"

"Do you think I'd let you interrogate him?" Ianna snapped back impatiently.

It seemed Ianna and Tissaia didn't get along very well… Allen raised an eyebrow, about to change the topic, when—

"Caw!"

A startled cry from the royal griffin echoed from the valley.

Everyone turned toward the sound.

There was movement among the necrophages.

However, it wasn't that the creatures had awakened and were collectively attacking the human defensive line.

Freed from the dark god's control, the monsters had immediately turned on each other, ignoring the human soldiers and the griffin as they began to fight among themselves.

"Roar!"

"Roar!"

"Roar!"

Amidst the thunderous roars echoing through the mountains, chaos erupted in the valley, with flesh and blood flying everywhere.

The necrophages had split into two factions, fighting each other.

"Two factions…"

Allen recalled something and exchanged a glance with Vesemir.

If he remembered correctly, the monster nests consisted of four "Barons," two "Viscounts," and one "Count," which was the summoning ritual. So…

"Did you guys not destroy all the monster nests?" Allen asked.

Ianna paused, glancing at the valley before nodding in understanding. "After we saw you riding the royal griffin toward the summoning ritual, we bypassed the monster nests along the way and focused on chasing the retreating necrophages into this valley."

"So…"

"This is a fight between the monster nests?"

"That seems to be the case," Allen nodded.

"Then I'll arrange for some people—"

"No need, Ianna," Allen interrupted hurriedly. "I'll ride the griffin over. It's faster and safer."

Initially, he thought he wouldn't get the chance to destroy the monster nests, which was a bit of a shame. Unexpectedly, this opportunity had presented itself.

Dropping a few grapeshot bombs was something he could manage, even in his weakened state. How could he let anyone else take this chance?

Honestly…

He was quite curious about the effects of the "Heart Essence Liquid" from the monster nests.

And what loot might be stored in the monster nests' treasure chests?

.....

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