The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

The camp was situated on a high slope.

The Witcher saw flashes of white light in the dense forest from the direction he had come, approaching at an astonishing speed.

Noticing his gaze, a "rumbling" sound echoed as giant trees toppled one after another in the wake of the white light. From a distance, the light appeared like a glowing serpent, having found its prey, crushing all obstacles in its path without hesitation.

Its speed was accelerating.

"Three minutes..." the Witcher calculated mentally, his hands still moving, "At this speed, those sorcerers will arrive in no more than three minutes..."

"Bang~"

The longsword struck fiercely against the light barrier. Blue light flickered, ripples spreading across its surface, but the defense remained unbroken.

However, the Witcher was unfazed. With a nimble spin, his longsword traced a perfect arc, slashing the barrier once again.

[Monster Hunt] Progress: 61%

[Monster Hunt] Progress: 65%

At the same time...

"Boom!"

The deep blue magical barrier suddenly disappeared as a bolt of purple lightning shot from the Wild Hunt's hand.

Allen had been watching the gesture closely and evaded at the last second.

The brilliant lightning gouged a deep trench in the ground, splitting a centuries-old birch tree in half, instantly reducing it to blackened, charred fragments that scattered into the air.

Yet, despite the impressive destruction, the Witcher felt reassured.

Compared to the battles at Ellander and Flotsam Port, this lightning bolt's power was weak.

"￥%#@!!!"

"￥%#@!!!"

The Wild Hunt, having just cast its spell, let out two roars within the reactivated magical barrier.

Allen couldn't understand the words, but he noticed the pale blue-gray flames flickering in the hollow eye sockets of the Wild Hunt as they darted briefly toward the direction of the collapsing trees.

Simultaneously, the other Wild Hunt's chanting sped up, and the fireball in its palm blazed with a dazzling intensity before hurtling toward Allen.

"Die first, despicable human!"

The Wild Hunt's voice roared angrily in Allen's mind.

Allen dodged several times but quickly realized that the fireball, though not particularly fast, was adjusting its trajectory to follow him.

With a sharp decision, he stopped dodging.

Leaping into the air, he planted his left foot against the trunk of a thick birch tree near the camp's edge, coiling and launching himself with force.

The gleaming silver sword, catching the fiery light, soared over the blazing campfire and struck the magical barrier once again.

[Monster Hunt] Progress: 69%

Almost simultaneously, the fireball struck Allen squarely in the back.

"Boom!"

Dust and smoke erupted as the explosion extinguished the campfire in an instant.

Within the camp, only the birch tree split by lightning glowed faintly red where it had charred.

No—

The flames in the eye sockets of the two Wild Hunt creatures also glowed brightly, the pale gray fire flickering with shock even before the smoke cleared.

To their astonishment, after the fireball's explosion, the Witcher emerged with only a layer of purple armor shattered, briefly staggering before resuming his relentless sword strikes.

"Ordinary spells are useless! Quickly retrieve our staffs!"

The Wild Hunt who had just cast the fireball spell received a mental command from its companion.

"But you—"

"He can't break my defenses! Go quickly!"

The Wild Hunt near the extinguished campfire hesitated briefly, the soul fire in its hollow sockets trembling slightly.

Its cold gaze darted toward the Witcher, who was furiously slashing but still unable to interrupt its companion's spellcasting. The ripples on the Aen Arlach Water Shield were the only evidence of his attacks.

Cursing internally at being disarmed and unable to properly assess the battle, the Wild Hunt sneered inwardly.

"Stupid, ignorant barbarian," it thought, dashing in the opposite direction of the fight, away from the approaching white light.

"Barbarians may be trivial, but against those who follow the art of magic, being without a staff is dangerous," it rationalized internally.

Yet, for some reason, the memory of a pair of seemingly ordinary human blue eyes lingered in its mind, quickening its pulse.

The moment the Wild Hunt left, Allen noticed immediately.

He raised an eyebrow, glanced at the Wild Hunt within the magical barrier, and shifted his posture as if to give chase.

Predictably, the Wild Hunt sped up its chanting. Spikes emerged from its black iron gauntlets as lightning crackled and surged around it.

'Opportunity!' Allen shouted inwardly.

Prepared for this, the Witcher's feigned retreat smoothly transitioned into an attack.

Stepping forward with his left foot, he closed the distance he had just created and advanced even further, bringing himself within half a blade's length of the Wild Hunt.

Gripping Elsa tightly with both hands, he delivered a diagonal slash.

As the silver blade neared the deep blue glow, the magical barrier parted like a door welcoming a guest.

"Boom!"

White lightning exploded, tearing through the shimmering illusion that masked the upper half of the Witcher's face.

The sclerae weren't white; his pupils narrowed into slits, and his entire eyes were an icy blue. Black, sinister veins bulged around his eye sockets and temples, writhing like venomous worms crawling across his face.

The eerie green flames in the Wild Hunt's skull-like head quivered, as if in terror or astonishment.

In that moment, the human Witcher appeared far more menacing than the skeletal Wild Hunt, exuding an aura even more fearsome.

Immediately after—

The lightning was drawn into Elsa, flowing along its elegant blade toward the Witcher's hands.

The thin layer of violet mirror-like shields shattered further, their protective fragments dissipating into light as they absorbed most of the electricity's force.

"Hmph~"

The Witcher grunted, suppressing the numbness in his fingers caused by the lightning's residual charge.

"You... you're no human..."

Another hoarse, magnetic voice echoed in his mind, filled with confusion and suspicion. But before the Wild Hunt could finish its thought—

The adrenal medulla flooded his system with hormones, chilling Allen's mind in an instant.

His icy blue eyes flashed, the veins on his face bulging further as if on the verge of bursting.

With the final remnants of Blizzard's effect, time slowed once again.

Then, five merciless arcs of silver light illuminated the forest beneath the night sky.

[Monster Hunt] Progress: 72%... 81%... 89%... 97%...

[Monster Hunt] Progress: 100%

"Ding! [Monster Hunt] progress: 100%..."

A pleasant system notification sounded in his mind.

In the sweltering summer heat, the Wild Hunt suddenly felt as though he had plunged into a frigid icy cavern.

It was as if he had stumbled into a land of pure white frost.

Yes!

He remembered it vividly—it was this soul-freezing cold.

The azure-gray flames in his eye sockets constricted.

Emerging from the deepest, most terrifying fear in the recesses of his mind, the first thing the Wild Hunt did upon returning to reality wasn't to dodge or flee from this deathly chill.

Instead, as he tightened the grip on the Avarlach Waterform Shield, he tilted his head and shouted in Elder Speech:

"Parnoys! He is—"

The Wild Hunt didn't get to finish.

Because his figure was small, the witcher didn't need to plan a complicated route.

A straight red line cut across the vertical spine the moment the notification sound rang.

With practiced ease, the witcher casually slashed.

The elegant silver blade glided with a dazzling brilliance, piercing through the deep blue magical barrier like a maiden dipping her delicate, bare feet into a shallow stream—disturbing nothing.

It cut through the blue runic robes, an indistinct membrane of illusion or light, and then the fine, slender white neck devoid of an Adam's apple...

"Shk!"

Scarlet blood sprayed.

A beautiful head with emerald green eyes fell to the muddy ground, rolling a few times before shaking off the bird-wing-adorned helmet.

The silver-gray hair, previously tied up, spilled loose and mingled with the dirt and dust, obscuring the trembling lips, trying to form words.

And then the lips stilled, slightly parted.

The emerald green eyes remained wide open as if alive, but no one would ever know what she was trying to say...

What it was she wanted to utter.

"A woman?" Allen was slightly surprised.

But his surprise lasted less than a second. Given that the Scoia'tael, under the guidance of the Aen Seidhe, often had women as warriors, it wasn't particularly unusual.

Then again, thinking it through, the Aen Seidhe's tendency for female warriors and archers primarily stemmed from the fact that most rebellious male elves died during the Uprising of Aelirenn.

Moreover, in the witcher's world, neither the Aen Elle nor the Aen Seidhe adhered to the matriarchal structures commonly depicted in fantasy novels.

In novels and games alike, no female characters ever appeared among the Wild Hunt's ranks.

This could warrant further scrutiny.

"Too bad, apart from the King of the Wild Hunt, Eredin; the Red Riders' commander, Imlerith, who killed Vesemir; and the navigator Caranthir, who partly served as a Gate of Ard Gaeth, I know nothing about the Wild Hunt's organizational structure."

While his mind raced, Allen's hands didn't pause.

Following one of the directions fate indicated, he straightened the corpse, then reached into the blood-soaked black iron armor resembling ribs.

After some probing, he found a pouch.

Pulling it out, he discovered a satin pouch roughly the size of an adult's palm.

Though partly stained with blood, the bag was entirely pink and adorned with intricate floral engravings—though Allen couldn't recognize the species.

It was hard to imagine that such a girlish item was hidden beneath that menacing armor.

"Ding!"

"Detected: Guiding Stone of the Gate of Ard Gaeth. Absorb?"

Holding the satin pouch in his hand, the system notification immediately sounded in his mind.

"The Guiding Stone of the Gate of Ard Gaeth… not a fragment…"

The witcher was intrigued.

However, the situation was far from settled, so he naturally wouldn't absorb it now.

"I wonder what's hidden on the other Wild Hunt member. Another Guiding Stone? Or perhaps a fragment of the Gate of Ard Gaeth?" he thought.

"Serra?"

A familiar voice suddenly called out in Elder Speech.

The witcher turned toward the sound.

The white birch tree, split by lightning, had begun to smolder.

In the dim, flickering firelight, another Wild Hunt stepped out, holding a staff in each hand.

He didn't attack the witcher immediately but stood frozen, staring at the headless corpse beneath Allen and the dirt-streaked head nearby.

"Phew…"

The witcher exhaled softly but didn't attack right away either. Instead, he glanced at the "White Serpent," whose destruction had ravaged the forest.

In less than two minutes, the sorcerer would arrive at the battlefield.

The illusion of the Mirage Pearl lightly veiled his pupils as magic power surged within him.

Gazing at the stunned Wild Hunt gripping two staffs tightly, the witcher felt as though he were watching an erupting volcano.

The very air around the camp seemed to quiver.

At a certain moment—

A muttering echoed in the witcher's mind.

"How could you kill her? How could she be killed? How could you…"

Parnoys' eyes flared coldly as he raised his gaze toward Allen.

"How dare you kill her!"

Run!

Crossing his hands, Allen swiftly formed the Quen Sign.

The grass beneath his feet flew up as he dashed toward the forest, where the trees were roaring.

Almost simultaneously, Allen realized the dark forest ahead had suddenly been illuminated.

The next moment, searing heat rushed toward him from behind.

He only had time to kick off a thick white birch for leverage before an invisible, scalding battering ram struck him.

"Boom!"

The faint purple barrier of the Quen Sign shattered within a second, followed by three layers of mirror shields.

Finally, the violent fire elemental energy reached his wolf school master-crafted armor, halting at last.

The crimson chest plate seemed to glow like burning coals, as though stained with fresh battlefield blood.

Thanks to the master-crafted armor's protection, the terrifying spell's residual power merely left Allen feeling slightly warm.

"My armor isn't even inscribed with alchemical arrays by Vera yet—what if it's damaged…" Allen felt a pang of heartache.

He hadn't expected the injured Wild Hunt to unleash such a powerful spell.

His Quen Sign was upgraded to level seven, the highest level skill he possessed.

With a mysterious attribute score of seventy-nine, even the legendary sorcerer Vilgefortz's Alzur's Thunder barely pierced through two and a half of his mirror shields. And while Vilgefortz had cast it hastily, Allen hadn't even managed to activate Quen Sign back then!

Damn it!

A severely injured Wild Hunt member, casting nearly instantaneous magic, was far stronger than Vilgefortz's meticulously prepared spell!

Damn that staff—was it that powerful?

Sweating profusely, Allen's thoughts were instantly evaporated by the scorching fire elements surrounding him.

Then more questions flooded his mind:

Who had driven out dozens, if not hundreds, of Wild Hunt from Ban Ard? How powerful must they be?

Why had the sorcerer at the Lexila River's shore escaped?

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

But there was no time to ponder these thoughts further.

Flying through the air, breaking countless branches and shrubs, Allen suddenly spotted several white flashes through the smoke and splinters.

Quen Sign, activate Night.Shade, adjust posture, and hide behind a massive boulder on the slope beneath the camp…

The sequence of actions was seamless.

No time to inspect his "new clothes," which he hadn't worn for even a month.

The witcher hid silently behind the rock, holding his breath.

He waited, anticipating…

Anticipating the grand welcome ceremony awaiting the sorcerer from Ban Ard once the smoke had cleared completely.

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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371. Fireball to Destroy the World.

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.