It was an oppression that ordinary people could never perceive.
Only the sorcerers with sharp senses were jolted awake in that instant, feeling that sudden and immense pressure — an aura that seemed to weigh upon the entire city.
It was like an ancient beast that had existed since time immemorial, knocking upon the gates of the world.
Or perhaps more accurately, it was tolling an unseen bell, heralding the descent of something beyond comprehension.
Following that strange sense, everyone saw the creature that had appeared inexplicably within Ban Ard.
Yes — a monster.
Its head was nothing but a skull wearing a rusted helmet, hollow eye sockets burning with ashen-blue fire.
A tattered cloak billowed in the wind.
Aside from the skeletal horse beneath it, draped in a ragged horsecloth, the figure looked exactly like the monsters from ancient legends.
Yet some people knew it was absolutely not a Wild Hunt rider.
"That is… Allen?"
Vilgefortz's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the skeletal knight that had suddenly appeared before Lydia's art studio.
Lydia van Bredevoort blinked as well, her chin tilting forward, almost leaning out of the narrow window of the clock tower.
If she hadn't known that at this moment, no one else could possibly have walked out of that studio, she would never have linked the Witcher Allen — in his dark red leather armor, twin swords, and blue eyes —with the ghastly being before her, whose hollow bone sockets burned with blue-grey flames, and whose corroded armor clung to a withered skeleton.
Ortolan didn't believe it was the Wild Hunt either — but not because he knew who Allen was.
On the contrary —he had no idea why a creature bearing the same face and garb as his enemy had suddenly appeared in the upper city.
His disbelief deepened when he noticed that even the skeletal riders soaring across the sky — the Wild Hunt themselves — had frozen mid-flight at the sight of it.
The ghostly fires burning in their skulls, blue and red alike, flickered violently.
Even while riding his flying beast, Ortolan could feel the intense wave of emotion radiating from those skeletal knights.
Confusion.
Bewilderment.
Shock.
Fear…
They exchanged looks — human-like in their reactions — and their tangled psychic currents whipped the air into a violent storm.
Ortolan was familiar with this kind of wind, filled with chaotic, intense emotion.
When a top-tier mage's mind ran at high speed, or when one used telepathic spells at extreme frequency, their spiritual energy would affect reality itself.
But emotions this strong…
Ortolan subconsciously touched the rough leather beneath his mount, reaffirming his earlier deduction.
The so-called Wild Hunt were not undead spirits acting on instinct, nor some unnatural celestial phenomenon —they were intelligent beings, possessing a level of reason and social order comparable to humans.
And more importantly…
He and Sunny, along with the other warlocks in Passolon Forest, had been completely wrong.
The Wild Hunt on the ground might indeed be the target of those in the skies —but they were not hunting a fugitive of their own kind, exiled for political betrayal, vengeance, crime of passion, or theft of some artifact capable of manipulating the celestial spheres.
To the Wild Hunt… it too was an anomaly.
Who was it?
Why was it wearing the skin of a Wild Hunt rider?
And what artifact did it wield to command the conjunction of the spheres?
-----------------------------------
Ortolan's mind was swept into a storm of thought — a storm that seemed to feed the roaring winds above the heavens.
Meanwhile, on the ground, Sunny and the others had already recognized Lydia's art gallery, and they knew that the so-called "Wild Hunt" was most likely that mysterious figure who had carried Hen Gedymdeith through the catacombs.
But this time, that "Wild Hunt" had no burden wrapped in black cloth on its back. And the eerie pressure in the air, along with the sudden halt of battle in the skies, poured a bucket of cold water over Sunny's restless anger.
In that instant, all these factors came together — and for the first time in a long while, the new city of Ban Ard fell into an uncanny silence.
But only for a moment.
The silence was shattered the very next second. Everyone saw the "Wild Hunt" lift its head toward the heavens, its decayed, mottled jawbone spreading wide.
"Odin!"
At first, the voice came only from the "Wild Hunt" itself. Then, the surrounding buildings began to tremble and echo with the sound.
The magical barriers enveloping those structures rippled like calm lake water struck by a stone.
And then — the entire new city of Ban Ard, and the heavens and earth beyond, began to resonate together.
Layer upon layer of voices intertwined, their sources impossible to distinguish. The sound became deep and metallic, as if forged from ancient bronze.
Within an instant, those overlapping roars merged into one — a wild, primal bellow bursting forth with unstoppable fury.
It tore the heavens apart.
The entire city of Ban Ard began to quake.
On the ground, dust and rubble from the ruins lifted and swirled through the air, spreading outward in a haze.
Within that dust, the strange oppressive aura that had just faded now flared violently once more. Accompanied by the roar, it surged skyward, splitting apart the boundless white clouds above Ban Ard for thousands of miles.
[Name: Dragon Call]
[Type: Beast Roar]
[Requirements to Learn:]
Mastery in Way of the Beast Roar, and comprehension of "Beast Roar: Berserk," "Beast Roar: Wild Speech," "Beast Roar: Whisper of Life," and "Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky."
[Passive Effect:]
Maintaining the energy circulation method of Beast Roar: Dragon Call will-
1. Gradually enhance all attributes.
2. Increase Draconic Nature.
[Active Effect:Consumes energy to unleash a roar that summons a dragon from another world.]
[Note:Guess what Draconic Nature really means?!]
-----------------------------------
[Beast Roar: Dragon Call] was the next roar in the main branch of the Way of the Beast Roar, unlocked after mastering [Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky].
It wasn't even as Allen had once imagined—he didn't need to spend double the experience orbs required for Forbidden Sky. Just like Forbidden Sky, it only required two hundred experience orbs.
So the moment he mastered Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky, Allen immediately spent his orbs to unlock Dragon Call.
Of course, "only two hundred" was still enough to nearly empty his reserves. When he finished, barely fourteen orbs remained.
[Experience Orbs: Small Experience Orb ×1424]
Just as Allen had told Vilgefortz and Lydia van Bredevoort, the reason he stayed behind was certainly not out of self-sacrifice.
No matter how important Hen Gedymdeith might be to the School of the Wolf, it could never outweigh Allen's own life. It wasn't that he was unwilling to die for the School—it was that he neither overestimated himself nor underestimated his importance to it.
Given time to grow as he had been, the Wolf School would eventually surpass the Brotherhood of Sorcerers and become the greatest extraordinary order in the world.
That was why Allen stayed—because he had the strength to.
His power was his confidence.
Since the Wild Hunt refused to let him go, he no longer intended to flee. He wouldn't risk leading them back, nor did he wish to live in constant fear—worrying that Ban Ard, roused by Sunny and Ortolan, might summon a tide of undead, or that skeletal riders would descend upon him from the sky.
So he wouldn't leave.
Not anymore.
-----------------------------------
A deep hum shook the air.
The ground began to tremble. The white clouds above were pushed aside, and the clear blue sky gradually darkened as heavy storm clouds gathered.
The sun, which had only just risen above the horizon, flickered—and beside it appeared a black sphere, slowly aligning until it eclipsed the sun completely.
"What… what's happening?!"
Ortolan, who even in the face of the legendary Wild Hunt had remained composed and regal, could no longer maintain his calm. His eyes widened in horror at the phenomena unfolding across the heavens and earth.
It was beyond imagination that all of this could be caused by a single figure on the ground—so small, so insignificant.
"Is this… the Conjunction of the Spheres?" the thought leapt instinctively into Ortolan's mind.
It seemed the most reasonable explanation—after all, it had already occurred twice in the Withered Forest.
And yet…
Even though the Conjunction of the Spheres was a cataclysm so rare it might not occur for a thousand years, the idea that a single living being could control it was incomprehensible.
Still, its destructive power alone wasn't enough to threaten him.
Even a few ritual mages from Ban Ard could have dispersed the undead summoned by necromancy. At worst, they would further ruin the already shattered city.
But this…
"Why is my perception screaming warnings like this?!"
Ortolan clutched his head, veins bulging at his temples, pulsing violently.
It had been ages since he'd felt this close to death—as if unless he acted immediately, he'd be torn apart in the very next breath.
What should he do?
He didn't hesitate. Ortolan yanked hard on the reins.
"Kiyaa!"
The dragonlike creature beneath him shrieked, wheeling around and diving toward the source of that strange, earth-shaking roar.
Whether or not it was the Conjunction of the Spheres didn't matter. As long as he killed that strange "Wild Hunt," everything else would fall into place.
As for whether the "artifact" controlling the Conjunction would be lost in the process—Ortolan had no time to care.
Greed was death's closest friend.
Yet the fastest to react were not Ortolan or his mount.
The skeletal riders in the skies, wrapped in howling winds, moved before the echo of the roar had even faded. Under the command of Renakins, whose sword glowed red as the crimson ghostfire in his skull, they dove straight toward the Witcher disguised as the Wild Hunt.
Just moments ago, they had been enemies locked in mortal combat. Now, like comrades who had fought side by side for years, they charged together toward a common foe.
Sunny reacted as well.
He raised his golden scepter and waved it.
A blazing red light shot into the air and exploded.
At once, the entire city stirred. Centered on that unremarkable little art gallery in the upper district, countless mages and guards began to converge.
A chilling killing intent surged toward the heavens.
Heaven and earth, north and south—there was nowhere to run, no way to retreat.
"Allen is finished…"
That was the only thought in the minds of Vilgefortz and Lydia van Bredevoort, who were hiding inside the bell tower.
No one could survive such an encirclement.
Although Allen had indeed made quite the commotion earlier, just as he said he would, it seemed to require time—or perhaps it had merely been for show. Just noise.
Even if he did have more to follow up with, faced with Ortolan, the Wild Hunt, and Sunny—all of those powerful beings surrounding him—no spell, not even Alzur's Double Cross, the one that destroyed half of Maribor, could save him now.
The enemy would never just stand there and wait for him to finish casting it.
Lydia glanced at Vilgefortz, whose face had turned grim and pale.
Of course, no one could possibly rescue Allen under such circumstances.
At least… they couldn't let his death be in vain. Lydia thought so, and gently tapped Vilgefortz's arm to remind him: "Vigo, the southern watch mages are moving. We need to get ready to leave…"
"Wait a bit longer!" Vilgefortz's voice was tight, his eyes locked forward, unwilling to look away.
Lydia could only sigh softly. She was about to stand and check the movements of the Ban Ard and Rissberg mages—
And then, in the very next instant—
Vilgefortz suddenly gripped her hand tightly, his nails digging into her skin hard enough to draw blood. Lydia winced in pain but said nothing. Instead, realization struck her all at once. She whipped her head around—
"Impossible?!!"
Lydia van Bredevoort clutched her pink lips in disbelief, gasping.
"You're not one of the Wild Hunt!"
"Thief—who stole the power of the Gate of Ard Gaeth! Where did you get that armor of conquest?"
"Just who… are you?!!"
A metallic, cold, scraping voice echoed as it clashed against the divine barrier formed by the Heliotrop Sign built from bones.
The wall quaked from the impact, but held firm against every assault.
Allen ignored the mental assault from Renakins, his gaze locked onto the terrifying riders before him.
Crash!
The crimson river that had only just calmed within his veins surged again.
The golden energy flowing within Allen's blood shimmered faintly, mingling with the four converging streams of elemental power. The mixture surged upward through his veins.
"Mir…"
The strange syllable rolled from his lips, heavy and resonant like a spell that pulled the world forward with its weight.
The moment it left his mouth, the sound condensed into a swirling orb of blue and white energy—so fast it blurred into an afterimage as it shot toward the Wild Hunt.
"Insolence!"
Renakins roared, the crimson bone-flames within his eye sockets flickering for an instant. But there was no time to dodge—nor could he. His army was right behind him.
In a flash of lightning, he raised his blade and struck at the oncoming sphere.
A silver-white crescent of sword energy cleaved through the air, slicing the orb clean in two.
Renakins had barely begun to exhale when both halves detonated.
Blue-white sparks exploded outward, scattering like stars across the battlefield.
The burst enveloped not only the entire Wild Hunt formation but also Ortolan, who had been hidden behind them, caught completely off guard.
"No damage…"
The crimson flames in Renakins's sockets flickered again as he confirmed through their psychic link that the riders were unharmed. He prepared to charge once more—
And then—
"Hiiiii—!!"
Nearly a hundred skeletal steeds screamed in agony.
The mounts carrying the Wild Hunt riders suddenly bucked and plunged downward at terrifying speed.
Even Ortolan's own warhorse faltered and began to fall uncontrollably.
However…
Neither Ortolan nor the Wild Hunt were novices. Their battle instincts were razor sharp.
Realizing their mounts had lost their ability to fly—and that neither control spells nor Dispel Magic had any effect—they immediately leapt free and began casting levitation spells midair.
"Impossible!"
Ortolan's cry was sharp with disbelief.
His Levitation failed entirely.
It wasn't that the spell refused to cast—mana flowed, wind elements gathered—but at the final moment of formation, the spell simply unraveled.
As if some greater ruler of magic and elements themselves had forbidden the very existence of flight.
Even the Wild Hunt knights grew restless, shouting in the Elder Speech as they plummeted—falling, falling, and falling still.
At the same time—
The sun vanished, swallowed completely, leaving only a dark crimson ring along the horizon.
Above the newly built city of Ban Ard, black clouds gathered and twisted into a spiraling vortex—a gaping void of shadow.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
Blood-red lightning slashed through the darkness, branching like veins across the sky.
And then, in a single blinding flash—
CRACK—!
The scarlet lightning illuminated the clouds…
Revealing the faint outline of a massive shadow lurking within them—only the tip of an iceberg…
......
📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
1. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.
2. 30 advanced chapters of What year is this? You're still writing a traditional diary?.