The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

'Huh?!!'

If Allen had body hair at this moment, it would have stood on end, his spine frozen with cold.

The chilling sensation in his heart, triggered by staring into the white light, exploded a hundredfold, as if an avalanche had been set off on a towering mountain, causing the heavens and earth to collapse.

His soul began to go numb, his consciousness growing hazy.

'Get out!'

He shouted in his mind.

At the very instant his awareness started to freeze, he activated "Spiral" on the semi-transparent interface.

The next moment—

Melitele's wooden amulet dangled from the ceiling, candlelight flickering.

He was back…

Allen let out a breath of relief.

Outside the window, the sky was filled with countless stars, a crescent moon hanging low beneath the cosmic expanse.

The temple was silent, with only the soft rustling of mountain winds through the leaves and grass.

"I slept for four hours," Allen estimated. "As expected, the time flow in the Spiral is different from reality."

He had spent at least a full day inside the Spiral.

Then, Allen fell into silence, his mind filled with the image of that "white light" blinking.

He didn't understand why it blinked.

To be precise, it wasn't the "white light" at the center of the spiraling corridor that blinked—rather, the corridor's hollow space itself had momentarily shut like an eyelid.

As if something lifeless had suddenly come to life.

Just thinking about it was enough to send shivers down his spine.

The blinking "windows" in the Spiral during the battle armor animation—he could rationalize that as an illusion, possibly caused by his consciousness being muddled by the freezing cold.

But just now, he had been fully awake.

"Why would the corridor's void blink?" he murmured in confusion. "What exactly is that?"

The more he tried to unravel the mystery, the more unanswered questions he found. However, all these mysteries actually had a final solution—capturing a member of the Wild Hunt.

Since they avoided the corridor's center, they must know what that blinking entity really was.

And then there was that "Being" whom Renakins mentioned—someone who, like Allen, could see into the Spiral and whose very name struck terror into the Wild Hunt.

"I still lack experience points…" Allen thought.

If he could just unlock "Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky," he could stake out Ban Ard. If Renakins led the Wild Hunt to attack the sorcerer, a skirmish might break out, and he could potentially capture one or two Wild Hunt warriors.

"Forget it."

Allen shook his head, pushing aside that tempting idea.

In truth, his real strength was only on par with an average Wild Hunt warrior—perhaps even weaker.

Even if he did unlock "Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky," hunting the Wild Hunt was still too dangerous.

If he happened to encounter a centurion like Renakins, he might not even get the chance to draw his sword before being killed.

"I still need to get stronger…"

Allen sighed.

The Wild Hunt, dark gods, the White Frost…

The world of the Witcher wasn't supposed to be this high-level. Judging by the books and games, where Geralt could take on everything with just a silver sword, it was at most a low to mid-level magic world.

So why was he constantly running into these ridiculously powerful monsters?

"What's done is done. I should just sleep." Allen stopped overthinking. "Only by resting well can I recover from the exhaustion caused by 'Beast Roar: Berserk' sooner."

But just as he closed his eyes, before sleep could take hold, he opened them again.

"No, I should meditate instead," he thought.

While meditation wasn't as effective as normal sleep for recovery…

The passive effect of the "Spiral" skill, "Dream Echo," had triggered twice—both times when he was weak and sleeping normally.

"If I fall asleep now and get pulled into the Spiral again, and if I encounter that creature that might be the White Frost, I'll be doomed."

Allen sighed again.

He sat up, got dressed, placed his hands on his knees, and turned his head to glance out the window.

The night was deep, the crescent moon like a hook.

Even the summer insects seemed to have been influenced by the stillness of the atmosphere, no longer chirping as restlessly as before.

"By now, the Wild Hunt should have realized that the fragments of the Gate of Ard Gaeth are missing."

"I wonder… what will they choose to do?"

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

"Centurion Renakins, someone has been here!"

A Wild Hunt warrior crouched before a white birch tree, pinching a bit of soil between his black iron-gloved fingers before looking back over his shoulder.

Behind him stood a large group of Wild Hunt warriors.

At the front, the eye sockets of their leader burned with flickering crimson ghostfire, dancing in the darkness.

Their skeletal horses stood motionless beside them, as lifeless as the dead.

"Dig!"

Renakins stared coldly at the spot on the ground and gave the order.

"Yes."

The crouching Wild Hunt warriors immediately removed their gloves with careful precision, setting them aside. Then, they stretched out their long, slender hands and plunged them without hesitation into the dark soil.

As natural-born wielders of magic, every Aen Elle was inherently a sorcerer.

Even those who lacked talent and ultimately chose the sword still possessed some basic telekinetic abilities for convenience.

So, digging through dirt using magic was no problem for them.

However, they dared not let even a single particle of magic-infused energy touch the soil surrounding their target.

Because it was the Gate of Ard Gaeth—the Grand Gate, the Gate of Worlds. The hope of the Aen Elle to conquer worlds, escape calamities, and cling to survival.

Even though what lay buried beneath the soil were merely fragments left from Ard Gaeth's collapse—long since stripped of their magical sensitivity—no one would take any risks.

Even as members of the Wild Hunt, pioneers of the Alder Folk, the Aen Elle's strongest spear and shield…

For them, allowing even a single part of their noble flesh to touch the filth of this lesser world was the greatest insult.

"Shhhh~"

"Shhhh~"

The mountain wind blew down from the peaks of Adria, rustling the leaves and branches of the forest.

Amidst the silence, the gathered Wild Hunt warriors watched as their comrades dug, the forest soil darkening their fingernails.

Blue-gray ghostfire flickered in their eye sockets, trembling as if in anticipation.

The pile of excavated earth grew higher and higher, the hole now two meters deep.

No one would bury something in such depths on a whim—not even the Wild Hunt. Yet no one told them to stop. The ones digging didn't even hesitate. Instead, their movements grew faster, more frantic.

As if, if they just dug fast enough, deep enough, something that had never been there might suddenly appear.

"The fragments have been stolen!"

Renakins' voice was cold, but within his burning crimson ghostfire, his fury raged.

He turned his head toward a Wild Hunt mage clad in a star-covered robe, gripping a staff.

"Beatrice, find the thief."

The one called Beatrice said nothing—she simply waved her staff.

In an instant, a thick fog surged and vanished, revealing two humans standing before the white birch tree.

Around the pit, nearly a hundred flickering blue-gray ghostfires watched them arrive and come to a halt.

One of the humans knelt down, running his right hand gently over the soil as if confirming something—then, he began to dig…

"Those damned, lowly Dh'oine… They dare covet the Gate of Ard Gaeth?!"

"Find them. Kill them!"

"I want them to watch as their own skin is peeled from their flesh!"

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

Nearly a hundred Wild Hunt warriors erupted with uncontrollable psychic energy.

"Hoo—hoo—"

The gathered psychic waves twisted the air, sending violent tremors through the surrounding trees. Branches shook, quivered, and finally snapped apart.

The illusions of the two humans were instantly torn into wisps of scattered mist.

"Silence!"

Renakins glanced back but did not instruct Beatrice to restore the images.

The result was already clear—it was these two humans who had stolen the fragments that rightfully belonged to the Aen Elle.

"Who are they?" Renakins asked.

"They should be the humans who killed Parnoys and Serra. Additionally..."

The ghostfire within Beatrice's eye sockets flickered briefly. The surrounding white mist swirled, then reformed into the two figures.

She pointed at the standing human, the one in the white robe.

"The Star of Ithlinne senses the presence of primordial magic within him. Parnoys and Serra's deaths are certainly connected to him."

"And his current location… is over there."

Beatrice raised her right arm.

Renakins followed her gesture and looked northward.

He was silent for a moment.

He knew what lay there.

A ruin—one created by their own kin.

But that was nothing unusual.

In the age of the Alder Folk's conquest of the worlds, which realm had not suffered cities reduced to rubble, fields littered with corpses?

What was unusual, however, was that at the center of this particular ruin, life still remained.

And not just life—many extraordinary beings.

"Lord Renakins, let us find him, kill him, and reclaim the fragments of the Gate of Ard Gaeth!"

"Yes, Lord Renakins! Let us slaughter those lowly Dh'oine!"

"Kill them all!"

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

The Wild Hunt warriors, seeing Renakins remain silent for a long time, their ghostly blue-gray flames flickering intensely in their eye sockets, grew impatient and pleaded for battle.

"Silence!" Renakins rebuked them.

"Beatrice," he turned to Beatrice, who was already waving her hand to dispel the spell, and ordered, "Inform Lord Eredin of everything that has happened here."

"I will need to contact Lord Avallac'h first."

Renakins hesitated for two seconds, as if weighing his thoughts, before giving a slight nod.

Then—

Beatrice's mouth opened and closed, her voice resounding through the forest like the toll of a great bell.

The forest responded with an ethereal echo, overlapping and resonating with her chant.

Gradually, the howling mountain wind among the trees fell silent.

The crescent moon cast its silvery light upon Beatrice, illuminating the unknown constellations engraved upon her robe.

The ghostly blue-gray flames in her eye sockets suddenly flared into a golden glow.

"What is it?"

A soft, genderless voice emerged from Beatrice's mouth.

"Lord Avallac'h, the fragments of the Gate of Ard Gaeth have been stolen," Renakins quickly reported. "I seek Lord Eredin's guidance on our next course of action."

"I see."

The loss of the Gate of Ard Gaeth's fragments did not seem to stir any visible reaction from Avallac'h.

He inclined Beatrice's head slightly, and the golden fire in her eye sockets dimmed—only to reignite in a shade of crimson, like flames blooming from freshly spilled blood.

In an instant, the thick scent of iron filled the vast forest.

"Speak!" A sharp, metallic voice rang out abruptly.

Renakins bent slightly in deference and relayed the details of Beatrice's vision. Then, he asked, "Lord Eredin, what are our next orders? Should we reclaim the fragments of the Gate of Ard Gaeth?"

The scarlet ghostfire burned silently.

"A powerful source of magic stands guard at a place called Ban Ard. It was this force that drove an entire battalion of a thousand from this world…" The words from Beatrice's lips were like an operatic lament. "Therefore…"

"Let them return." Beatrice's ghostfire abruptly turned gold.

"Hahaha~" Eredin let out a hearty laugh, then decisively refuted, "No, Avallac'h. I do not believe that a mere lower world could drive out my Red Riders by the thousands without paying a price."

"Therefore…"

Eredin's laughter ceased, and his voice turned cold. "Renakins!"

"Yes!"

Renakins and his Wild Hunt warriors dropped to one knee in unison.

"I command you to investigate the nature of this powerful magical source, locate the fragments of the Gate of Ard Gaeth, and retrieve Serra's lost guiding stone."

"Yes, Lord Eredin!" The Wild Hunt responded in unison.

"Eredin, I remember you…" Beatrice's ghostfire flickered from red to gold again. Avallac'h seemed hesitant to speak.

"Issued a challenge?" Eredin chuckled twice. "Who would have thought that Avallac'h would one day worry about my reputation?"

A challenge?

Renakins and the other Wild Hunt warriors exchanged glances.

They had set out immediately upon receiving Parnoys and Serra's magical distress call and knew nothing of any challenge—let alone one personally issued by Lord Eredin.

But they did not ask questions.

The Red Riders were the blade and shield of the Alder Folk. Their only duty was to obey.

Everything else was irrelevant.

Avallac'h remained silent.

"Avallac'h, I am not a scholar like you. The Alder Folk rely on your wisdom to guide them," Eredin mused aloud. "I am a warrior. A warrior does not need to keep promises—only to achieve his goals."

Avallac'h was silent for a few seconds before sighing through Beatrice's mouth. "The unicorns gave you the perfect nickname…"

"Sparrowhawk?" Eredin laughed again. "I like that name. I am the sparrowhawk of the Alder Folk, hunting for my kin with sharp eyes and deadly talons. And you, 'Fox'…"

"Do you like the name the unicorns gave you?"

Avallac'h did not reply—clearly, he did not.

Eredin did not care. His gaze refocused on the kneeling Renakins.

"That is all, Renakins. Investigate the magical source, retrieve the fragments of the Gate of Ard Gaeth and the guiding stone."

"We swear to complete the miss—"

"No, no, no!" Eredin interrupted Renakins. "Do not die. Return alive. That is the highest priority."

"The Alder Folk have too few brave warriors left."

He paused, his tone growing heavy.

"Be careful. Do not forget Parnoys and Serra."

"Humans have a power to invalid 'Rebirth'—that means they can kill you."

"Yes, Lord Eredin!" The Wild Hunt warriors responded, their voices filled with emotion.

The scarlet flames in Beatrice's eye sockets flickered, and Eredin's presence seemed to be withdrawing from her body.

Suddenly, golden light flashed.

"Renakins, bring back the magical source revealed by the Star of Ithlinne…"

Then—

Avallac'h's voice paused for a moment before adding:

"Preferably, alive."

.....

📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)

1. 30 advanced chapters of American Comics: Multiverse of Madness.

2. 30 advanced chapters of Warhammer, but Emperor's Chosen.

3. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.