"Buzz buzz~"
The school medallions neither throbbed violently nor showed signs of intensifying, but instead gave off a steady, faint humming.
Switching to the wolf medallion's perception, everything ahead—from the soil, bushes, to the oaks—was veiled in a dim black-brown magical glow, stretching outward from their position like a boundary.
Hostility lingered in that glow.
No matter where one looked, a prickling sensation itched at the back of the neck, as though hundreds of sharp steel needles were pressed against their skin.
The dense oak forest ahead—filled with curling black thorns and massive trees thick enough to require two people to encircle—emitted a silent warning:
No outsiders welcome.
"A domain?" Allen's heart sank the moment he saw the aura spread before him.
Was this the Leshen, the being revered as a god by common folk?
"Stay sharp. We may have just stepped into its territory…" Vesemir drew his longsword from behind his left shoulder, speaking gravely. "Grip your Yrden signs. Watch your step, especially for roots and shrubs hiding in the shadows."
"Yes, Master Vesemir."
The young witchers responded immediately—drawing their silver swords with their right hands, curling thumb and forefinger of the left hand to trace a triangle in the air before them.
After refreshing their Quen shields, they crossed their wrists and scanned the surroundings with sharp, focused eyes.
The seven of them moved as one.
Their precise, coordinated actions made Vesemir nod in satisfaction. He then tilted his head and called softly, "Allen?"
"I'll try…" Allen took a deep breath.
"Uirs…"
His thought, carried by the low whisper, seeped into the earth, brushing past earthworms and speckled ladybugs, then burst out of the humus, skimming the emerald-green needle leaves of gorse, and flew deep into the shadowy forest…
In just the blink of an eye, his perception had surged over a hundred meters—and was still accelerating. But the resistance from the air, soil, and vegetation continued to grow.
Before he realized it, the thought tethered by the Whisper of Life hit its limit and snapped back, returning to his body.
And at that moment—
"Hm?"
Allen's eyes flew open. He turned to the northwest, staring intently.
A curled-up red dot was squirming cautiously at the center of his vision.
"You found him?" Vesemir stepped closer quickly, pressing for details.
"Follow me!" Allen suppressed the growing sense of foreboding that had only deepened after finding the target. He spoke in a low voice, "Master Danthe is hiding in a burrow four hundred meters away…"
He really found him!
Vesemir raised his eyebrows with excitement and followed Allen in quick steps, softly ordering the young witchers to maintain formation and keep up.
"Found Danthe, that's good. I told you, there's no way a Wolf School master witcher couldn't protect a few apprentices. Once we find him, I'll definitely—"
Vesemir's voice suddenly stopped.
"What is it, Allen?" he frowned.
Under the Cat potion's sharpened black-and-white vision, Allen's face was sharp—but completely devoid of joy.
Vesemir's heart immediately sank. A sense of dread crept in.
"Slash!"
With a flash of agitation, Allen's blade shattered a bramble blocking the path into splinters.
He continued forward expressionlessly.
"Whisper of Life didn't detect the Leshen or the wolf pack. Also…"
He took a deep breath.
"Master Danthe is alone."
The smile instantly vanished from Vesemir's face.
Just as he was about to ask more, he suddenly looked up.
"Whoosh\~"
A breeze stirred the forest.
Within it, faint and chilling—came the shrill cries of crows and the eerie howls of wolves.
Haunting. Cold. Unnatural.
…...
The cave—more accurately, the burrow.
Dry from good ventilation, concealed by withered, decaying shrubs at the entrance, and reeking of a sour, fishy stench thanks to its owner…
Naturally.
As an uninvited guest, Danthe had no right to complain—nor had the cave's owner graciously welcomed him inside.
"Hrrr—rrronk—"
The cave's owner, dressed in a thick brown coat, was lying fast asleep, mouth agape, snoring like thunder on a sweltering summer day.
Most of the foul stench inside the well-ventilated burrow came from that gaping mouth.
Yet Danthe's breathing remained calm, not frowning even slightly at the noxious air—perhaps laced with some mild toxins.
He even had the leisure to distinguish the bear's recent diet—from the scent of fishy water and sweet notes in its breath, he picked out: sturgeon and honey.
Honestly, Danthe approved of the taste.
He, too, liked sturgeon and honey this time of year.
The combination—honey-roasted sturgeon—was even the signature dish of a tavern named Two Sturgeons in Tretogor, capital of Redania nearby.
They also served the best beer in all of Redania—foamy, rich, and delicious.
He had originally planned to finish this contract and take his three apprentices there for some indulgence. But now\...
Danthe wore a dark, brooding expression as he gripped his sword tighter.
"Hughes must've escaped by now. The killer whale potion worked well…"
"Damn it… If that show-off Vesemir—though that lucky bastard did manage to find an exceptional… monster of an apprentice—if he finds out I lost all three of mine, he'll mock me for a hundred years."
"No way am I letting Vesemir laugh at me for that long…"
Danthe took a deep breath.
He let the poisonous stench sear his lungs and churn his gut.
The pain and nausea cut through his overwhelming fatigue, sharpening his focus. Even the burning stab wound at his waist didn't hurt as much now.
Then—
"Hrrr—"
The thunderous snoring that had shaken the whole cave abruptly stopped.
Danthe, who had been staring toward the dark forest outside, didn't even turn his head. His right hand curled his ring and pinky fingers and flicked backward.
"Thud\~"
The brown bear, just lifting its head, crashed heavily to the ground again, kicking up a dust cloud that blanketed the entire cave.
Moments later—
"Hrrr—rrronk—"
The massive brown bear drifted back into a sweet slumber.
Danthe withdrew his hand, his face turning pale as he swallowed down the blood rising to his throat.
"Just rescue one person. Once I do, I leave right away…" he reminded himself. "Burst out of the cave, run, slash, keep heading south…"
"I can do this!"
He squinted through a gap between the broken twigs and dead leaves at the entrance.
In that pitch-black, eerie oak forest outside, his apprentices were bound and restrained.
But Danthe only glanced briefly, then shifted his gaze away, using the corner of his eye to scan the darkness surrounding the oak grove.
He knew the Leshen had to be nearby—lurking in some shadowy corner, watching and searching.
The school medallion pressed against his chest kept vibrating steadily, reminding him without pause.
It—was the guardian spirit of this forest, and the cleverest hunter in the wilds.
His apprentices—were bait It had deliberately left behind.
This was a hunt, initiated by the true master of this land. And for the sake of the bait, he had no choice but to take the hook. However, this was not an inescapable duel, one where honor and life were wagered.
Hunting required more than strength—it demanded patience.
Patience allowed a hunter to catch the most alert, strongest, and swiftest elk. And as a witcher master of the Wolf School, Danthe had never lacked for patience.
Or rather…
It was precisely his patience that had let him live for more than a hundred years and become a witcher master.
Besides patience, there was something else just as vital—timing.
Of course, no skilled hunter waits idly for timing to arrive…
Danthe's brown, beastlike pupils shimmered with light as he quietly counted the passing moments.
No one knew how much time had passed.
Then suddenly—the moon broke free from thick layers of cloud, casting silver light across the oak woods.
And at that exact moment—
"BZZT—"
The school medallion quivered violently for two seconds, then stopped abruptly.
"Too soon!"
Danthe's pupils instantly shrank into slits.
"Boom!"
The dead branches and rotten roots blocking the cave entrance exploded outward, blown apart by a transparent shockwave.
Without warning, Danthe burst from the cave like an arrow loosed from a fully drawn bow, shooting straight into the moonlit oak forest.
"ROAR—"
The brown bear inside the cave let out a wild roar and tried to charge out, but Danthe had already collapsed its den with an Aard Sign.
He didn't care at all. His right foot landed from midair, stepping into the dirt, then pushed off again.
The wild wind howled past his ears. Danthe's arrow-like figure accelerated once more.
Under the moonlight.
Danthe's face, covered in countless small scratches, was utterly pale. He gritted his teeth tightly, lips pressed thin.
The dark red Wolf School master's armor was torn—his leather armor at the waist was pierced through, the golden anti-magic shoulder plate on his right shoulder had fallen off, and a large piece of leather armor on his left arm was sliced away, revealing a shredded undershirt and flesh blackened and burned by fire.
"Wretched" no longer described Danthe's state.
With injuries like these, he should be lying in a sickbed—not in this wild, perilous oak forest crawling with dangers.
"Dwarven gear is always so unreliable…" Danthe muttered under his breath, his eyes anxiously scanning the distorted patterns of the swiftly passing oaks on both sides.
"Fred… Fred… where… where…"
The wild wind shook the surrounding trees, branches rustling.
Danthe's body could no longer endure a second reckless attempt—his previous sprint out of the cave had already left his head dizzy…
He could not find a second life force as beastly as the brown bear's, one to shield Fred from the Leshen's omnipresent gaze in the forest.
He had to rescue Fred and leave Its territory before the Leshen was drawn back.
"Caw caw caw\~"
The cawing of restless crows carried by the wind.
Danthe's expression changed. Ignoring the branches almost tearing his cheeks, he accelerated again.
"Awooo—"
The wolf pack howled at the moon, as if they had found the enemy's trail.
"He's coming back!!!" Danthe's pupils suddenly shrank.
But the next second—
Whether it was his illusion or not, the sounds of crow caws and wolf howls seemed to... fade away...
At that moment—
"Boom!"
A fierce explosion erupted on the east side of the oak forest, igniting a towering blaze.
"Wait!"
Danthe sensed something was wrong.
"The dwarf's bomb should have exploded by now, but… but… was the Leshen drawn away by something?"
However, the thought only flashed briefly through his mind.
He couldn't even guarantee his own safety right now. Whether it was humans or monsters who had mistakenly entered the Leshen's territory, or whether the client had come searching after they didn't return for a day—none of that concerned him.
He had to find his apprentice and leave this place!
Every Wolf School demon hunter master had their own specialties, and some excelled in many fields.
But tracking was not Danthe's strength.
Still, after a costly day of trial and error, he had finally caught a scent of Fred's trail, after eliminating two wrong directions.
"Huff huff\~"
Thick layers of clouds covered the moon again.
The wild wind violently whipped up dust, the oak crowns twisted and swayed, their broad leaves slapping hard against Danthe's face and the wounds he had briefly treated with Igoni's flame.
At last—
After about five minutes of running—
A grotesquely knotted mass of vines covered the forest ground ahead, like a spider web entangling the woods.
The desolate clearing was filled with plant roots and branches, like the grasping tentacles of demons from hell.
Danthe slowed his pace slightly, carefully stepping inside.
But the ever-closer cawing of crows and howling of attacking wolves forced him to quicken his pace again once he entered this sinister trap.
At the end of his sight stood an oak tree wrapped tightly in layers of vines.
"Fred!" Danthe shouted.
The shadow barely bound on the oak tree gave no response.
His heart tightened.
The crow caws and wolf howls kept closing in. He knew the Leshen must have discovered his movement. He was about to squeeze out the last bit of strength from his body and speed up.
Suddenly—
Danthe's ears twitched slightly as he glanced toward the darkness outside the oak forest.
He thought… he thought he heard… Vesemir's voice amidst the crow caws and wolf howls…
"Are we all just imagining things?"
Danthe's heart sank.
He didn't know if, in this state, after rescuing Fred, he could still escape from that Leshen…
After all, it was no ordinary Leshen, but one who could be called "Ancient."
He couldn't defeat him in full strength, let alone now\...
"At least get Fred out!"
Danthe's expression grew serious. Gasping for breath, he finally reached the oak tree before the Leshen and its army arrived.
It was indeed Fred.
Not fully grown yet, his body was slightly frail compared to an adult's, tightly embedded in the tree by the grotesque vines.
His face was pale, eyes tightly shut.
But with a quick glance, Danthe saw no blood pooling beneath him and heard his steady breathing, letting out a sigh of relief.
"He must have fainted," Danthe thought.
He carefully slowed his steps and approached.
Around the oak tree, several totems made from stag skulls with antlers and thin branches were stuck in the soil, seemingly staring at Fred, or using Fred as a sacrifice in an ancient, savage ritual.
Danthe knew these were the Leshen's magical totems—these totems strengthened its power.
However, he didn't destroy the totems. He had tried before to break these seemingly fragile wooden and bone frames, but it only caused the Leshen to instantly appear before them. So he cautiously stepped around them, curling his right hand's index finger and lightly touching the vines wrapped around Fred.
"Whoosh~"
A flash of fire.
The vines, as if sensing something, slithered away from Fred's body.
After casting Igni and pulling back his right hand, Danthe felt a momentary relief—then his body wavered, and darkness suddenly filled his vision.
When he came to, breathing heavily to regain focus,
the vines had fully retracted back into the soil.
"It's okay..." Danthe breathed out and reached out to catch Fred sliding down from the tree.
"Danthe!"
Vesemir's joyful shout came suddenly from behind.
"Ve... Vesemir? Allen?!!" Danthe instinctively turned back, eyes wide open.
At this moment, no one noticed—
After Fred landed on Danthe's back, his head rolled halfway around. His loose hair fell back, revealing a bloodied nape.
There seemed to be a pattern carved into the wound...
If Danthe hadn't heard the voices and turned his head, he would have seen that this wound was exactly the same as the magical totem stuck in the soil.
Unfortunately, soon after...
The strange wound was hidden by the disheveled hair, never to be seen again...
...
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