The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

"...Dh'oine... You dared to kill her... You dared to kill her..."

A howling psychic storm swept through the dense forest, like a tangible gale, making trees bend and grass bow.

The remaining Wild Hunt warrior seemed to spiral into madness.

Its telepathic communication, interspersed with ancient Elvish, conveyed overwhelming fury, fear, regret, and sorrow.

"Is Aen Elle allowed to slaughter freely, but resistance forbidden?"

The witcher sneered, shaking his head, and took out some White Honey from his potion bag.

"Whew~"

After downing the potion, the witcher's body was covered in a faint red sheen of sweat.

The accumulated toxicity from Alghoul Decoction and Blizzard dropped to a minimum, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Neighhh~"

The mages, who had just arrived, were affected by the psychic storm; their horses reared and neighed, forcing them to dismount and prepare for battle.

Various hues of magical light flashed amidst the hazy smoke.

"What's gotten into that creature? Who killed whom?"

"What was that disturbance earlier? Miguel, did you send someone else ahead to scout?"

"I didn't," Miguel said, frowning.

After leaving Sunny, he had rushed to various mage towers to rally reinforcements.

He certainly hadn't sent scouts, though he wasn't sure if Sunny had deployed anyone besides Leon.

"But who other than Sunny would be reckless enough to provoke the Wild Hunt?" Miguel muttered.

Wait—there was someone!

Miguel's eyes widened suddenly.

He suddenly recalled that during the Wild Hunt's destruction of the Hazardous Experiment Storage Warehouse at the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, the mages present weren't limited to their faction alone...

"Other colleagues may want to snatch our prize—be on your guard!"

"What?!" gasped the group.

Some hurriedly waved their staves to disperse the smoke ahead, while others sent light orbs flying forward.

When they finally saw the situation in the camp, everyone froze in place.

A skeleton knight in black iron armor knelt before the headless corpse of its companion. The ghostly flames flickering in its eye sockets gave off an eerie light.

It held a mud-smeared, helmeted head near the severed neck, seemingly trying to reattach it.

Blood was still gushing from the severed neck.

"They... they bleed?" a mage muttered, dumbfounded.

Of course, the Wild Hunt bleeds—this wasn't news.

Many members of the Wild Hunt had spilled blood on the soil of Ban Ard that day.

It was through one bloodied cloth and an ancient spell inscribed on a magical tablet that they had managed to track them so quickly.

But no one corrected the mage. Not even Vilgefortz.

Everyone understood the underlying question:

The Wild Hunt... can actually die.

In the Northern Realms, and perhaps the entire world, the ancient magical source Hen Gedymdeith, known for its unparalleled might, had never left behind a single Wild Hunt corpse. Not one.

Until now, they had suspected that the Wild Hunt warriors were merely demonic projections sent into the world. When injured severely, they would simply vanish.

Historical accounts supported this theory. In the early days when humans first mastered the magical arts, many mages resorted to summoning demons in their quest for power.

The prohibition lists maintained by priests and the Brotherhood of Sorcerers were filled with countless spells akin to summoning magic, all attesting to this fact.

And yet, here they were, staring at the headless, blood-soaked corpse of a Wild Hunt warrior.

Wait.

Wasn't the Wild Hunt supposed to be skeletal?

Where was all this blood coming from?

"Miguel," someone asked, swallowing hard, "are you sure this was done by 'our' colleagues?"

Miguel wasn't sure, so he remained silent.

But who besides mages could have known about the Wild Hunt's presence here?

And who else could possibly have the ability to decapitate them?

While the Wild Hunt obsessively tried to piece the body back together, the mages' thoughts were in chaos.

For a moment, the battlefield fell into an eerie silence.

A silence the witcher couldn't understand.

"What's going on? Why haven't they started fighting yet?" Allen muttered in disbelief.

An enraged Wild Hunt, devastated mages—shouldn't this have been a powder keg ready to ignite?

He grew anxious, worried that the Wild Hunt and the mages might start negotiating and inadvertently reveal his presence.

That would be truly dangerous.

Fortunately, his fears didn't come true.

After several failed attempts, the Wild Hunt warrior picked up a ruby-topped staff and placed an amber staff into the hand of the female Wild Hunt corpse.

This gesture snapped the mages out of their daze.

"Attack now! Are we supposed to show chivalry and let him bury his companion first?" a mage shouted.

The mages, startled, began chanting incantations and raising their staves.

But the Wild Hunt was faster.

Upon sensing the magic and incantations, the skeletal figure turned toward the corpse and murmured a few words before calmly rising to its feet.

A silver-gray staff, about 1.3 meters long, pointed skyward as it traced a circle in the air.

When the half-circle was complete, the gem at the staff's tip glowed red. A fireball, roughly the size of a human head and red to the point of being almost white, materialized in midair.

"...Dh'oine... You will all die with her..."

The Wild Hunt warrior's icy voice rang out.

The fireball, scorching the air, shot toward the densest cluster of mages.

"Defend!" Miguel shouted.

Twelve mages quickly formed a formation of seven in the front and five in the back.

Well, it wasn't really a formation.

Five mages, including Vilgefortz and the one issuing orders, stood still, continuing their incantations.

The remaining seven older mages stepped forward, waving staves, burning magical reagents, and using artifacts...

As soon as the fireball flew out, a blue shield inscribed with complex symbols and incantations appeared. It closed around the mages, obscuring them from view.

"Boom!"

The fireball exploded against the shield, emitting a blinding white light. The extreme heat dried the surrounding birch trees, causing them to wither and burst into flames.

The blue barrier flickered with runes and incantations, swaying but ultimately holding firm.

Inside the shield, the mages, who had felt the terrifying impact, breathed a collective sigh of relief.

From about 20 meters away, Allen, hiding behind a rock, even heard a few cheers.

The mages were prepared; they had blocked the fireball with ease—or so they thought...

Wait.

The witcher instinctively chipped off a piece of the rock he was gripping.

Through the lingering smoke of the previous explosion, another... no, two fireballs were flying toward the mages.

No, not just two!

One after another, simple, unadorned white-hot fireballs launched from the Wild Hunt's camp like rapid-fire projectiles, hurtling toward the mages.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

The massive blue barrier wobbled, sand and rocks flew everywhere, grass bent, trees broke, and the air heated up so much it seemed ready to ignite spontaneously.

Even twenty meters away from the main battlefield, a boulder was distorted by the intense shockwaves and high temperatures, faintly revealing a startled human face.

The witcher quickly ducked behind the rock, scanning his surroundings for a suitable hiding spot.

As for inside the barrier...

A sorcerer, having completed his spell, found himself blinded by dazzling white light and turbulent magical energy, unable to locate his target. Frustrated, he unleashed the lightning he had painstakingly channeled in the direction of the incoming fireball.

However, once the lightning passed through the barrier, it was shattered like glass struck by a hammer when it collided with the fireball.

The meticulously prepared, powerful spell proved utterly ineffective.

The sorcerer shouted in terrified fury, "Miguel! This is the 'gravely injured' you mentioned?!"

He wasn't the only one who fared poorly.

Of the five completed spells, only one—a meteor from the heavens—managed to slow the fireball's advance.

"How did Lon survive?" another sorcerer muttered in confusion. "With his crude spells, he made it through such an assault—and against two Wild Hunt warriors?"

Vilgefortz's magic also failed to have an impact. Of course, that could have been because his mind was elsewhere…

His eyes would occasionally, subtly, glance towards the burning woods and shrubs.

Miguel, however, didn't notice. He didn't even have time to answer the other sorcerers' questions.

With the relentless fireballs, he had long since abandoned his own spellcasting.

His brown staff, inlaid with obsidian, emitted a white beam that connected to the blue barrier, helping to share the burden with the front-line sorcerers whose ears and eyes had begun to bleed.

Yet even so, the seemingly unbreakable magical defense now looked like soap bubbles, ready to burst at a touch.

To be honest, even if Miguel had time to respond, he wouldn't know what to say.

"Could Lyon have been a decoy released by the Wild Hunt? Just to lure greedy humans like us here?"

"But then why was that Wild Hunt warrior on the ground decapitated? Another decoy?"

"Was that really necessary?"

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

The dizziness from rapidly draining mental energy, combined with the Wild Hunt's perplexing behavior, turned his once-proud, sharp mind into a muddled mess.

The surrounding shouts, cries for help, warnings, and curses all felt muffled, as if behind a barrier.

Until...

He heard an unusual sound.

"Crack!"

The entire world went silent in an instant.

All the sorcerers froze for a moment and simultaneously looked up.

"Crack!"

Another sound followed.

Fissures appeared in the cerulean membrane, starting from the top and extending all the way to the ground.

"Run!!!"

Miguel screamed in terror.

At that moment—

"Crack!"

The magical barrier shattered in mid-air, and two consecutive fireballs struck two elderly sorcerers in the front ranks.

The two sorcerers didn't even have time to cry out. Their personal magical defenses didn't even flicker before they were instantly vaporized.

"Boom—"

The fireballs exploded upon impact. The other five front-line sorcerers managed to hold out for barely half a second before the violent shockwaves blew them away.

In mid-air, they were like ragdolls, torn apart.

Their bodies disintegrated into blackened, charred remains, carried away by the scorching winds and disappearing without a trace.

Even after the sorcerers' barrier collapsed, the Wild Hunt's fireball bombardment continued unabated.

"Boom—"

One fireball after another rained down, unerringly targeting the same spot.

No vegetation remained intact around the camp.

The fire ignited the forest within a radius of dozens of meters and continued to spread outward as the core temperature rose.

The wildfire's momentum was unstoppable.

The witcher, having just found a suitable hiding spot, was forced to move further away. He eventually stopped near a creek about a hundred meters from the camp in a low-lying area.

Even at that distance, the blazing firelight still broke through his concealment.

"Good thing I kicked their staff away the moment I infiltrated the camp."

Watching the apocalyptic scene in the distance, the witcher patted his chest with lingering fear.

With Night.Shade no longer active, he could only rely on the mirage pearl for camouflage.

In a dynamically lit environment like this, with flames consuming trees, maintaining the illusion was extremely difficult, prone to flaws, and emitted faint magical fluctuations.

But under the circumstances, he had no other choice. The battlefield was dangerous, but he couldn't just stay a hundred meters away observing.

Fortunately, the sorcerers' attention was focused entirely on the Wild Hunt, and in this chaotic, element-saturated environment, the faint magical fluctuations from his spell went unnoticed.

As long as he stayed well-hidden, no sorcerer would likely detect-

"Thud!"

A heavy object crashed down from above, landing right in front of him, interrupting his thoughts.

Startled, Allen looked toward the source of the sound.

The charred mass before him, resembling blackened coal, suddenly opened its eyes.

A sorcerer!!!

Before Allen could activate his mirage pearl to conceal himself, his heart nearly stopped.

The scorched sorcerer's brown pupils, snapping out of their post-explosion daze, focused on the witcher who had suddenly appeared before him. His eyes widened in terror, and he instinctively opened his mouth to scream.

One second.

Magic surged as Allen curled his right index finger and pressed his palm over the sorcerer's mouth.

Igni!

"Mmmph…"

The "charcoal" sorcerer only managed a muffled sound.

The searing flames burned him once more, destroying his throat before he could resist, and quickly spread through his body, charring it completely.

The flames flowed along the bone structures, remarkably well-preserved by elemental blessings, and erupted from his nostrils, ears, and eyes.

In an instant, fiery streams scorched his wolf school master armor, reigniting its ember-like red patterns.

The unnamed sorcerer—likely a high-level one—died instantly.

"Hoo~"

Allen retracted his hand, vigilantly scanned his surroundings, and, after confirming this was an accident and not a targeted attack, exhaled deeply. Then, he quickly used the mirage pearl to disguise himself.

After some thought, he decided not to touch the sorcerer's remains, now indistinguishable from his charred flesh and clothing. Instead, he quietly pushed the corpse into the stream and let it drift away.

Watching the sorcerer's body sink and float into the darkness, Allen couldn't help but mock himself:

"Talk about luck!"

"Out of all the places, it had to fall right in front of me."

Another point added to the score.

"I wonder how many sorcerers are left," Allen mused. "With all this destruction, if all the sorcerers die, how would I face the Wild Hunt alone..."

"Wait a minute..."

A sudden thought sparked in his mind.

If all the sorcerers were dead...

"Vilgefortz was among them, wasn't he?"

"Could he be as injured as that sorcerer just now?"

To be honest, Allen felt a bit tempted.

He wasn't someone prone to hesitation. Even though the odds of Vilgefortz being incapacitated were slim, the thought alone was enough to spur action.

Between him and Vilgefortz, truth be told, there wasn't much enmity—yet.

The apprentices had recovered fully without suffering any lasting harm, and Allen had even gained a set of valuable dispelling tools and a life-saving enchanted gem.

But Vilgefortz wasn't exactly the type to genuinely forge friendships.

In truth, Allen didn't have any real friends either.

For the sake of power and ambition, Vilgefortz would one day betray everyone he knew.

Even Lydia, who loved him wholeheartedly, gave her all for him, and ultimately died protecting him, was likely just another tool to him.

Thus...

His overtures of goodwill must have some ulterior motive.

He likely sought something from Allen—something very important to him.

If there was a chance to kill Vilgefortz, even if it carried risks, it might just be worth it.

"Boom—"

The explosions from the camp suddenly stopped, interrupting Allen's train of thought.

The red moon hung high, a crooked crescent.

His piercing cat-like blue pupils reflected the blazing forest, which seemed to advance toward him.

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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372. The Burning Skeleton Knight.

373. The King of the Wild Hunt—Eredin.

374. Do Not Empathize with Your Enemies.

375. Another S-Rank Evaluation.

376. Absurd.