The gallery fell into silence once more.
Within the frame, the painted figures seemed to stare quietly at the living beings before them.
"I don't quite understand." Vilgefortz frowned, exchanging a look with Lydia van Bredevoort. "You mean, you'll stay behind to create a distraction—draw the attention of Ban Ard's mages and the guards from Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization—while we escape with Hen Gedymdeith?"
Allen nodded.
"Why?" Vilgefortz asked, confused.
"Though I don't want to admit it, Lydia really is the best person to stay behind."
"If she makes some noise to draw the guards and mages' attention, it'll be dangerous, yes. But as long as she's careful not to seriously injure or kill anyone, then even if she's caught, Sunny and Ortolan won't dare do much to her. At worst, they'll imprison her for a few days."
"When Hen Gedymdeith wakes up, recovers, and regains control over the Brotherhood of Sorcerers and Ban Ard, she can be ransomed easily."
"But me…I've completely offended Sunny. He'll kill me the first chance he gets—out of spite if nothing else."
"And you…"
Vilgefortz paused, shaking his head slowly. "Allen, you're a Witcher—one of the Wolf School, no less, the kind Sunny hates most."
"When it comes to killing you, there isn't a single person in this entire city who would hesitate for even a moment."
"And if we consider Ortolan…" Vilgefortz's voice dropped. "Allen, you'll wish you were dead."
Lydia van Bredevoort's usual mask-like smile softened, touched with genuine feeling.
"Allen," she said softly, "Vigo is right. No matter how you look at it, I am the one best suited for this."
"Tissaia de Vries protects every sorceress. Sunny and Ortolan won't dare harm me, not now—"
Lydia stopped mid-sentence.
Allen had already loosened his belt and gently laid the black-cloth-wrapped Hen Gedymdeith onto the gallery floor.
"It's not because I want to play the hero," Allen said quietly. "It's because I have to."
He looked from Lydia to Vilgefortz, whose face had grown unreadable.
"Maybe you've already guessed it. Those skeletal riders in the sky—they're here for me. And they've already locked onto my position."
He pointed to the dark pigment on his face. "Even all these layers of disguise can't hide me from their tracking."
"If anything goes wrong on the way out, or even if we somehow escape Ban Ard and reach the open plains beyond…"
"If there's no time to use a portal, the Wild Hunt will catch us. And even if I somehow make it back through, even if I return to Kaer Morhen, I'll only bring disaster down on everyone there."
"Hen Gedymdeith and I—we were never both meant to leave Ban Ard alive."
"So…"
Allen gave a faint shrug. "Let me be the one to cover your escape. At least that way, the mission to save Hen Gedymdeith can succeed."
Vilgefortz and Lydia both fell silent, exchanging heavy looks.
"The Wild Hunt… there's really no other way?" Vilgefortz asked quietly, his face pale. "We do have a few ways to conceal—"
Allen shook his head slightly, pointing to the unconscious Hen Gedymdeith on the floor. "Rather than worrying about me, you should focus on how to get him out of Ban Ard. Will you need to remove the dimeritium shackles?"
"No," Vilgefortz replied, shaking his head. "They're on his wrists, covered with anti-magic cloth. It'll cause some discomfort, but he can bear it—it won't affect him much once he's awake."
Allen nodded. "Good. Then don't waste time. Once your route is decided, leave as soon as you can."
"Oh, right…"
He reached into his reagent pouch, took out an empty vial, and handed it to Vilgefortz. "Take this with you."
Vilgefortz accepted it automatically and looked at it. "What is this?"
"A way for me to find you later," Allen said with a faint smile. "You didn't really think I'd sacrifice myself just to save one mage, did you?"
"You're the one who said I'm the future of this world. The future doesn't end because of one man's death—even if that man is Hen Gedymdeith."
"You two go on ahead. I'll catch up."
"Of course," he added, "once you're out of Ban Ard, don't wait for me too long. When you reach a place where space distortions won't be detected, open the portal and return to Kaer Morhen immediately."
Vilgefortz and Lydia exchanged another long look. They both opened their mouths as if to speak—but in the end, said nothing.
Silently, they lifted Hen Gedymdeith onto Vilgefortz's back and began planning their route out.
Boom…
The ceiling trembled as muffled explosions sounded overhead, shaking loose clouds of dust.
When they'd finished discussing their options and gathering their things, they rose to leave.
Vilgefortz placed a hand on the gallery door handle—then stopped, glancing back.
"To draw the attention of the mages and guards, you'll have to make quite the scene," he said quietly. "Do you need—"
Allen cut him off with a faint shake of the head and a knowing smile.
"Don't worry," he said softly. "I'll make a scene big enough…"
"…so big that no one will even think to look for you."
-----------------------------------
Lydia van Bredevoort and Vilgefortz left the gallery. They hadn't gone far—still in the upper city, in a tall clock tower not far from where they'd begun.
This place was deserted because of the war, yet being located at the center of the upper city—surrounded by the Dwarves' Vivaldi Bank, the Ban Ard Grand Theatre, and the city's central market—it had not suffered the devastation of war's aftermath. It remained largely intact and, more importantly, very safe.
At the same time, it was well connected. No matter which direction one went toward in the city, all paths were open and unblocked.
Of course, more importantly…
The clock tower was neither too close nor too far from Lydia van Bredevoort's gallery.
From the tower, one could clearly see everything happening around the gallery, yet not be easily affected by the "big commotion" the Witcher had promised.
"Do you believe what he said?"
Lydia van Bredevoort's gaze lingered on the dim shadow where Vilgefortz's handsome and sharp profile was outlined.
"Believe what?" Vilgefortz's eyes were fixed through the small square window of the tower, staring at the direction of the gallery, not turning his head.
"That he can create a big commotion, and that he can…" Lydia van Bredevoort paused slightly, "leave Ban Ard alive."
Vilgefortz looked back for a moment and adjusted the heavy Hen Gedymdeith on his back.
After all, he was only a sorcerer, not a Witcher. No matter how light the weight of an old man might be, for him, it was still a burden impossible to ignore.
"Since he descended from Kaer Morhen at the beginning of the year, he has already caused plenty of commotions—so big that when the news reached Ban Ard, no one believed it."
Lydia van Bredevoort nodded slightly. For quite some time, she waited for the answer to her second question—
"What about the latter question?"
Vilgefortz did not reply, as if he were fully absorbed in watching the small gallery, unable to hear any other sound. Thus, Lydia van Bredevoort understood the answer.
Even the Source, who always had full confidence in the young Witcher, had now lost faith.
Indeed!
The Child of Miracles could create miracles—but that did not mean he was omnipotent.
"Glutton King" Henselt's power was immense, but he was still just a mortal king. The wraith tide was difficult to resist, but one could always ride away on a horse. Subduing the royal griffin was unprecedented, but if two Witcher Masters couldn't tame it, they could at least kill it. As for expelling the evil god—that wasn't even a true, successful descent of a deity. Moreover, the Ellander army, Melitele's priestesses, and the Aretuza sorceresses all helped share the burden of the necrophages...
Looking at all of Allen's so-called miracles, none of them were things that were completely impossible.
But now… what was the situation?
Sunny, Ban Ard, Ortolan, Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, and the Wild Hunt…
Each one was a rare and powerful extraordinary being or force on the Continent.
The weakest among them—Sunny—was already a senior councilor of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, and before all this had happened, he was publicly recognized in both the Supreme Council and Chapter of the Gift and the Art as the successor to Hen Gedymdeith's seat.
His academic achievements were, of course, outstanding, but his personal strength was by no means weak.
Not to mention Ortolan, a member of the Supreme Council and Chapter of the Gift and the Art, or the legendary Wild Hunt whose origin remained unknown.
How could anyone possibly survive this?
Lydia van Bredevoort had been thinking about that question all the way, but she could not find an answer.
Perhaps he could use the hostility between the Wild Hunt, Ban Ard, and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization—or even exploit the rift between Ortolan and Sunny—but even if he pushed that to the extreme, so what?
Would that truly allow him to escape from the grasp of all three powers?
Lydia van Bredevoort shook her head inwardly, unable to suppress her growing pessimism.
"Since I've known you," Vilgefortz's voice suddenly sounded, "I've never seen you care so much about another man…"
Startled, Lydia van Bredevoort raised her head sharply, meeting Vilgefortz's thoughtful gaze. She quickly tried to explain: "Vigo, I…"
"That doesn't matter, Lydia." Vilgefortz waved his hand gently, his tone calm. "We talked about this from the start—maybe it's because of the mother who abandoned me, or that woman who arrived earlier than you and toyed with feelings as she pleased—or maybe both. But none of that matters. None of it matters."
"The result is simply this: I despise women, Lydia. From instinct, from body, from mind—I despise them."
"So don't mistake the reflection on the lake for the stars in the night sky, Lydia."
"Emotions are not equal to emotions. And you are free, always free."
Lydia's expression calmed. She quietly shook her head, graceful and composed, but said nothing.
Vilgefortz gazed at her in silence for a long time—at the sorceress who had followed him for years, still as dazzlingly beautiful as when they had first met—before turning his eyes back toward the direction of the gallery.
"Don't worry about the Child of Miracles, Lydia."
"To me, there is no one more important than him…"
He shifted his body slightly, adjusting the slanted Hen Gedymdeith on his back, as if weighing some kind of worth or value.
"So he will live. He must live!"
-----------------------------------
Bang!
A massive stone shot from the mouth of the ancient well into the sky, crashing heavily onto a charred, collapsing chimney. The already brittle, flame-burned structure crumbled instantly, sending up clouds of ash and smoke.
Under the protection of a green, oval-shaped magical barrier, Sunny leapt out from the ancient well, his face grim as he surveyed the chaotic, devastated, and tragic scene around him. His eyes grew colder and colder.
Step~
Step~
Step~
Miguel, gasping for breath, floated up from the well with several other sorcerers following close behind.
"Can you find any trace?" Sunny asked expressionlessly.
One of the sorcerers, his black robe drenched with sweat as if he had just been pulled out of water, immediately stepped forward. He glanced around, chanted a few incantations, then gently shook his head.
"The magical environment is too chaotic. The proportion of agitated fire elements is too high. The clues have been badly damaged…"
"Can you find it or not?" Sunny repeated coldly, his face unchanged.
The sorcerer's voice faltered. Under Sunny's gaze, he trembled and shook his head again. "Master Shaquiel might be able to, perhaps we could—"
Sunny waved his hand to interrupt him, his expression growing darker.
At that moment—
Miguel's ears twitched slightly. He turned his body toward the east, raised his hand, and caught a dark purple light sphere rushing close to the ground.
Sunny also followed his gaze.
"Other than the tower in the academy, Vilgefortz didn't own any property in Ban Ard," Miguel said, shaking his head lightly. "But Lydia van Bredevoort does have a gallery in the upper city."
"Where?" Sunny pressed.
After briefly orienting himself to their current position, Miguel pointed east—toward the part of the upper city that remained relatively intact.
"Right there, on the street by Old Tom's general store…"
Before Miguel finished speaking, Sunny had already dashed off in the direction he was pointing. But after running only a short distance, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
It wasn't just Sunny. Miguel and the other Ban Ard sorcerers around him froze as well.
Even Ortolan and the Wild Hunt's Renakins, who had been clashing in the sky, suddenly stopped mid-battle. As one, they reined in their skeletal horses and gene-altered beasts, lowering their heads to gaze toward the shattered city of New Kaedwen.
Silence still blanketed everything. Even the leaves hung motionless.
At that moment, time itself in all of Ban Ard seemed to freeze.
And in the upper city, the wooden door of an inconspicuous gallery quietly opened amid the stillness of the world.
Creak~
With the wooden door's low groan, a solitary figure slowly stepped out.
Bathed in the golden glow of a magical barrier shimmering at his side, he lifted his head toward the sky—then opened his mouth wide and roared: "Odin!"
.....
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