The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

When Allen and Vesemir dismounted from the back of the Griffin, the battle was already over.

Tired soldiers sat in small groups at the valley's entrance, chatting idly about the future.

This wasn't in line with wartime military regulations because, if attacked by those with ill intent, they would be caught off guard and suffer heavy losses.

But no one was enforcing the military law because, like the military officers, the military law officers were also exhausted.

Facing human armies and monsters was different. The horrific appearance of the monsters, even with divine protection, still placed immense pressure on the soldiers mentally.

Of course, what was even more important...

After losing the control of the dark god and the monster's nest over the ghouls, the monsters scattered and fled without launching a counterattack, unlike human armies.

Despite the exhaustion...

When the Griffin descended from the sky, the soldiers still gave a loud cheer.

"Godslayer!"

"Godslayer!"

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

"I also participated in expelling the dark god..." Vesemir muttered while hearing the synchronized shouts from the soldiers.

"That's true," Allen agreed.

If not for Vesemir and the Griffin helping him hold back the ghouls in the valley, the expulsion of the dark god would have faced setbacks.

"That said," Allen changed the subject, "famous Witchers seem to have titles. Vesemir, how come I've never heard of yours?"

It was indeed strange.

In the original story, Geralt was known as the "White Wolf" and the "Butcher of Blaviken." In real life, while the Wolf School Witchers didn't aim to spread their renowned titles in Kaer Morhen, Allen knew that...

Master Sol had the title of "Dragon Slayer," and the vice-captain of the Witcher Corps, Aristo, was known as "Angry Lion." Both Aristo and Sol had multiple titles...

Titles were often a summary of characteristics and achievements, distinguishing one person from another.

After all, the Northern Continent's naming customs made surnames hard to remember, and human names were often repeated.

As a centuries-old Witcher Master, in a place where even regular mercenaries had titles, not having a single one... was that reasonable?

Vesemir blinked his dark golden cat-like eyes in response to Allen's probing gaze: "Forget it..."

"Unlike you young Witchers, I'm past the age of seeking fame."

Then, he lowered his head, pointed at the valley, and awkwardly changed the topic: "Allen, look at the sorceresses. Their magic is so fascinating. If only we Witchers could use this kind of spell..."

Allen couldn't help but roll his eyes in his mind. He squinted, watching Vesemir's evasive golden cat-like eyes, growing even more curious.

What kind of title could be so mysterious?

"I need to find a chance to ask someone about this," he thought, "Aristo and Lady Vera should know..."

Then, he followed Vesemir's pointing direction.

The soldiers were resting, and the priests were busy tending to the wounded.

After the battles, the sorceresses, still maintaining their pristine appearance, were collecting body parts from the ghouls in the valley.

It was a fortune.

The materials from the alghouls, rotfiends, and scurvers weren't much to talk about—the former didn't provide valuable materials, while the latter, due to self-explosion, rarely left usable parts.

However, the alghouls, due to their cowardly and cunning nature, were difficult to capture and kill, making them quite rare.

The brains, hearts, marrow, and even blood and flesh from ghouls were rare finds in alchemy, especially for certain potions used by sorceresses, such as those enhancing "calm" or "intelligence." These materials were quite precious.

Vesemir envied them because the sorceresses hadn't lifted a finger.

The alghouls, with their intelligent-like blood and flesh, automatically categorized their bodies into blood, flesh, bone marrow, and organs on the ground.

The sorceresses would wave their wands and chant a few words, and the materials would vanish into the valley.

Elegant and efficient.

Unlike Witchers, no matter how skilled they were in processing materials, they still ended up covered in blood.

"Indeed, it's fascinating."

Allen casually responded, scanning the area before signaling for the Griffin to land.

Ianna, Tissaia, and Arthur stood by the ruins of the Elven Tower, focusing intently on the deep pit now filled with debris.

"What are you doing?" Allen asked curiously as he approached.

"You're back..." Ianna turned first, a warm smile on her face.

"Mm," Allen nodded. "We solved a few monster nests, but after the nests were destroyed, many ghouls managed to escape..."

"It's fine," Ianna waved her hand, "we'll handle it one thing at a time. We expelled the dark god, these ghouls can't trouble us."

"However, those ghouls..."

She glanced at Arthur before continuing, "It seems we'll still need the help of your Wolf School to deal with them."

"Lord Mason mentioned it before," Arthur added, picking up on the conversation. He looked solemnly at Allen and Vesemir and said, "Sir Allen, Master Vesemir, rest assured, Ellander will pay enough for your help."

"The previous contract hasn't been completed yet," Vesemir shook his head. "As for those ghouls, the agreed-upon payment is enough. What do you think, Allen?"

"That's fair."

Allen naturally didn't have any objections. After all, under Ianna's favoritism, the reward for each ghoul, rotfiend, and alghoul had already exceeded the usual amount.

"Let me thank your faction on Lord Mason's behalf," Arthur said, giving a grateful look.

Ianna also smiled at Allen with satisfaction and said, "Don't worry, Mason has plenty of money, and he has a rare, precious quality among nobles—generosity."

Commonly known as a "soft touch"?

Allen remembered a week ago when he first arrived at the temple, how Ianna had misled him with her persuasive talk, and he couldn't help but complain inwardly.

"As for your question..."

Ianna tilted her head and glanced at the deep pit Allen had created.

Inside the pit, a few sorceresses who hadn't processed the materials yet were waving their wands and chanting incantations, but nothing happened.

"We want to trace the origin of the summoning ritual," Tissaia de Vries crossed her arms.

Since Allen had arrived at the ruins and started talking to Ianna, Tissaia had been staring at him with a peculiar, intense gaze.

It was like... like...

Allen thought for a moment. It reminded him of the way his mentor had looked at him in his previous life when discovering a highly promising research material.

Research material...

Me?

Under Tissaia de Vries' increasingly burning, almost mad scientist-like gaze, Allen couldn't help but shiver.

"Tissaia!" Ianna frowned and huffed.

"Sorry, sorry..." Tissaia de Vries smiled gently and apologized. "It's just a professional habit..."

Professional habit?

Allen felt even more uneasy.

"Dean..." A sorceress from the pit walked out, her bright eyes lingering on Allen for a few seconds before hesitantly reporting to Tissaia, "Nothing found..."

Upon hearing this, Tissaia finally shifted her gaze, frowning slightly. "Not even a trace?"

Trace?

Allen turned his head to look at the blood and flesh ruins in the deep pit and raised an eyebrow.

"We've all tried," the sorceress glanced at the other approaching sorceresses. "It's very clean. Not only can we not recreate it, but if I hadn't witnessed it firsthand, and felt the evil pressure of the dark god, I would think nothing had ever happened here. It would just be a place where ghouls disposed of their bodies."

She paused before continuing, "Our spells aren't as refined, but the Dean should be able to find more..."

Tissaia shook her head. "Herbert Stammelford's Restoration Magic, the principle is right there. The most I can do is apply more power and mental energy, thus surpassing your scale of casting."

"However, things without any traces can't just appear because the caster changes."

"What do you mean?" Ianna frowned.

The sorceress explained, "Based on our magical analysis, not only has the dark god not descended here, but the summoning ritual never existed. In fact, even the elven tower from the Elven Empire's time never stood in this valley..."

"Otherwise, at least you would have seen a broken tower restored to its original form, with remnants of the summoning ritual's flesh still standing there."

"This... this is impossible!" Arthur stared at the deep pit in disbelief.

Even without mentioning the dark god, the huge mass of blood and flesh mixed with pale bones, exposed openly to the air, was already enough to raise doubts.

The traces of elven-style engravings could still be seen on the fallen stone debris of the elven tower.

To say neither of these existed, then what was he seeing now?

A hallucination? A dream?

Arthur couldn't help but feel a chill down his spine.

The sorceress being questioned frowned tightly, dissatisfied with Arthur's doubts about her professional ability: "It's hard for me to explain to you, a regular person, the great magic created by Herbert Stammelford, the founder of the Sorcerer's Brotherhood, just to restore ancient ruins."

"But from a magical perspective, this place is just a pile of rubble and ghoul remains... no, it's not even a ruin..."

"Could it be because of the dark god?" Vesemir casually glanced at Allen, who had been silent, and asked.

"Possible..." The sorceress nodded, then seemed to remember something, her tone filled with doubt. "But Herbert Stammelford's Restoration Magic has been used to repair cities destroyed by the dark gods, and..."

"According to the magical records... this situation has never appeared before..."

Her tone was confident, but by the end of her statement, she looked toward Tissaia.

"Herbert Stammelford's Restoration Magic," Tissaia confirmed her memory. "There is no record of it ever being used in this situation."

Then she fell silent, lowering her head as if deep in thought.

The surrounding area fell silent as well.

After a moment, the sorceress had finished sorting out the materials from the alghoul, and someone suddenly broke the silence.

"Any materials you need?" Ianna asked with a smile.

After taking his gaze off the stacked materials of the alghoul, Allen hesitated for a moment before nodding without hesitation.

"I have a formula that requires some materials from the alghoul. Could you, Tissaia, sell me some?"

The Alghoul decoction, which greatly enhanced strength, agility, and reflexes, was already one of his most commonly used potions.

Other materials for making the alghoul decoction, such as buckthorn and dwarven spirit, were also easy to find.

Even the weak red mutation catalysts are provided by swamp witch mutation catalysts and Griffin mutation catalysts. Not much, but at least there's a source.

Only the alghoul's bone marrow really depends on luck; if you don't encounter it, you simply won't have it.

However, he knew that during the earlier meeting, the temple, Ellander, and Aretuza had already agreed on the terms. As an external aid that came from far away without charging a fee, Aretuza held the rights to use and control all the monstrous materials from the war, although...

He was the one who had expelled the dark god.

Still, Allen didn't lack money, and he had a contractual relationship with Ellander, not Aretuza. To avoid trouble and disputes, it was better to just purchase some materials.

Surely, the sorceresses, as his "comrades," wouldn't refuse.

"A formula?" Tissaia's interest piqued. "Is it the one for sword oil?"

"No, it's a different kind of potion," Allen noticed Arthur's eager gaze and added, "It's highly toxic, only witchers can consume it."

If only witchers can consume it, then it must be a formula he came up with himself...

Tissaia looked at Allen in surprise. She had always thought that Vera's apprentice could only brew sword oil, that strange yet crude concoction.

"A potion? Is it already a finished product?" she asked.

Allen nodded. Since the potion was only for witchers, he directly explained the basic effects of the alghoul decoction.

It controlled adrenaline... an impressive idea...

Also, since it was only for witchers, Tissaia confirmed that this potion couldn't have been thought up by Vera, that sorceress who disliked trouble.

After all...

She had been emotionally entangled with the witcher, Sol, for hundreds of years, and yet she had never created a similar formula for her lover. Could she possibly have made one for an alchemist apprentice who was a witcher?

"You're pretty good!" Tissaia praised, nodding at him. "Vera found a good apprentice... What materials do you need?"

"Alghoul bone marrow."

Tissaia glanced at the sorceresses who were wrapping up and nodded. "Once we return, I'll have someone deliver the alghoul bone marrow to you."

Deliver it all... Allen roughly calculated the number of alghoul bodies he had seen earlier, and the horrifying price of alghoul bone marrow, and he froze for a moment.

Would his money be enough?

He only wanted to buy a little, but the witcher's demand for the alghoul decoction made it hard to say that "only a few dozen kilograms would be enough."

"How much Oren?" He swallowed.

Tissaia laughed. "Aretuza isn't that shameless, and we're not that poor."

"Actually, if you want, I should give you all the alghoul materials, after all, you're the one who expelled the dark god."

"But..."

"Aretuza doesn't care much about these materials; it's also for the sake of our ancient pact, but we can't just have you come all the way here for free..."

Allen immediately relaxed.

"Of course," Tissaia continued, "If you can answer one question, it would make a good reward."

"What question?"

Allen's body, which had just loosened, tensed again under the seemingly casual gaze of the sorceress.

"Tell me, Allen," Tissaia's eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light.

"Do you think the complete lack of traces is because of the dark god... or because of you?"

.....

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