Allen never thought about running away.
To be precise, ever since he learned that the Wild Hunt commanded by Renakins was coming for him, and that they possessed some method to pinpoint his location, the option of escape had been completely abandoned.
He would be mad to leave such a huge hidden danger behind after rescuing Hen Gedymdeith.
Even if the Sorcerer Kingdom were to be established, Sunny and Ortolan would still target the Wolf School — but that wouldn't be something to happen in the immediate future.
And as long as "the near term" wasn't so short that nothing could be done, it wasn't yet a matter of despair.
For the miracle child who possessed the Witcher Notes, it was far from hopeless.
At worst, the Wolf School could relocate to Ellander.
The old duke, the citizens of Ellander, and the Melitele temple would all be rather welcoming to the Wolf School's arrival.
No matter how far the Sorcerer Kingdom's hand reached, could it possibly extend into Temeria?
Impossible.
Once the Sorcerer Kingdom truly formed, the political ecology of the Northern Continent would reach a new balance.
The kings of the states near Kaedwen would likely stop hiring sorcerers as magical advisers; druids, witch doctors and even witchers would probably occupy the ecological niche once held by sorcerers.
If the Wolf School moved to the Mahakan Mountains of Ellander, the Sorcerer Kingdom would find it very hard to threaten the school.
As for the troubles brought by regime change in Ellander that was an issue for later.
Therefore.
Choosing to rescue Hen Gedymdeith did not mean the Wolf School had no way out.
It only meant that the Sorcerer Kingdom either would not be established, would be established more slowly, or would not be founded by forces hostile to the witchers…
And in order to meet the Wild Hunt's invasion, and the coming of the White Frost, which the world had still known nothing of until now, the Northern Continent needed to maintain order as much as possible and avoid losing too many extraordinary powers in wars and conflicts…
This was important to both the Wolf School and Allen.
So if Hen Gedymdeith could be saved, of course he must be saved.
And from Tissaia de Vries's words and Hen Gedymdeith's past behavior, the great magical source was not, like the radicals, filled with hatred for witchers and other outcasts.
Otherwise, under Hen Gedymdeith's control of the sorcerer world for centuries, witchers could not have continued to the present day.
For Hen Gedymdeith, witchers were not special — compared with his students, the radicals gathered by the new currents in the sorcerer world, witchers were insignificant.
With monsters becoming increasingly scarce, he would of course not suppress his students and the new blood of the sorcerer world on account of the gradually waning position of witchers in this world.
And Hen Gedymdeith's power as a magical source, his prestige and status in the world of the extraordinary, and his principles for maintaining order were things Allen desperately needed.
If Hen Gedymdeith died at this node, and Tissaia de Vries openly expressed resistance to Sunny and Ortolan at the same time, the world of the extraordinary would surely be thrown into turmoil.
That would be extremely detrimental to the struggle against the Wild Hunt and the White Frost.
But all of this depended on not creating even bigger problems.
If Allen left Ban Ard at this moment, the Wild Hunt — which could appear at any time — would be far more troublesome than any Sorcerer Kingdom or Sunny's hatred.
After "Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky" and "Beast Roar: Dragon Call" had already been used in Ban Ard, Allen could hardly imagine what would happen if he left Ban Ard now.
What would await him the next time the Wild Hunt rode down on skeletal horses from the sky?
So…
"Renakins must die! None of the Wild Hunt under him can be let go!"
"The only question is…"
The witcher, through the dragon's crimson vertical pupil, stared fixedly at the Wild Hunt — which had once again raised a golden magical barrier on the ground.
"Can the attacks from dragons that count as 'monster-hunting' pass through and accumulate Monster Hunt progress…"
—
The black dragon's diving attack did not make the Wild Hunt afraid; instead, it made the Hunt that conquered worlds feel a sense of absurdity and indignation.
It had always been only the Wild Hunt descending from the sky, like hawks and falcons seizing prey.
When did it become the turn of the Alder folk to be looked down upon by inferior creatures, to be treated as prey?!!
"Let that damned thief taste the irresistible charge of the Red Riders!"
"Trampling the ground, the Red Riders are also Alderfolk, the kings of the redwood, the sharpest lances!"
"Kill him! I want to bring him back to Tir na Lia! Let him taste the cruel punishment of the driftwood!"
-----------------------------------
A violent commotion broke out among the ranks of the Wild Hunt. The skeletal horses beneath them grew restless, stamping on the ground and shattering the hard stone tiles, leaving pits in their wake.
Renakins was also furious. The crimson ghostfire in his pale bone sockets flickered violently.
However, he did not respond to the agitation of his soldiers. Instead, he calmly stared at the black dragon diving down toward them like a massive, dark mountain and raised his hand.
The ranks of the Wild Hunt immediately fell silent.
"The reason the Red Riders are the sharpest lances of the Alder folk," Renakins said coldly, "is not because our voices are loud, but because we can pierce through all barriers and crush every thorn that blocks the path of the Alder folk!"
He turned and glanced behind him. "To the enemies of the Alder folk, we are fear itself. We are death itself!"
Renakins raised his rune sword high, pointing it toward the black dragon as he shouted, "Stop that black dragon! Teach that thief what it means to be invincible—what it means to despair!"
"Now…"
"Golden Shield! Moon Blades!"
With the uniform sound of metal scraping—shasha—half of the Wild Hunt began casting, raising a golden barrier so solid it seemed tangible. The other half, along with Renakins, lifted their weapons, their bluish-gray soul flames locked on the rapidly approaching black dragon.
Seeing this, Renakins nodded slightly with satisfaction. He exchanged a glance with the navigator beside him, both fixing their gaze on the diving dragon—as if they could see through the sleek, dark, muscular body of the beast to the "man" hidden behind it.
The Red Riders' assault is unstoppable, their defense as unyielding as stone...
No matter who you are, no matter what means you used to steal the power of Ard Gaeth's Gate—to summon a black dragon—and even know my name…
No one can face the iron hooves of the Red Riders!
"Gloir aen Ard Aen Elle! (Glory to the Alderfolk!)"
As the black dragon dived, opening its monstrous jaws that glowed with gathering fire, Renakins roared the words.
"Gloir aen Ard Aen Elle!" the Wild Hunt echoed in unison, the golden magical barrier growing brighter, like flowing molten gold.
A violent surge of psychic energy swept across the vast upper city.
BOOM!
With a thunderous explosion, the dragon's blazing breath poured down like a waterfall, engulfing half of the upper city.
[Monster Hunt Progress: 7%]
[Monster Hunt Progress: 6%]
[Monster Hunt Progress: 18%]
[Monster Hunt Progress: 9%]
In an instant, four system prompts flashed across the bottom third of the witcher's vision.
Allen's expression shifted rapidly as he looked at the messages—both pleased and grim.
One piece of good news, and one piece of bad news.
The good news: even through the black dragon's breath attack, the unreasonable [Monster Hunt] ability still worked—as if the attack had been unleashed by Allen's own body. And the progress accumulation speed was not slow.
The bad news: once the dragon's breath struck the magical barrier raised by the Wild Hunt, the accumulated progress could not be stabilized.
[Name: Monster Hunt]
[Type: Special Skill]
[Level: LV6]
[Active Effect: Consumes 450 (+200) stamina, condenses spirit into a 450 (+200) second Monster Hunt state. After the conditions are met, a fatal strike will be triggered (guaranteed to kill the monster).
LV4 Added Effect: Consumes an additional 250 points of mana. When switching Monster Hunt between four (+2) targets, progress is calculated separately for each target.]
The LV6 [Monster Hunt] could only accumulate hunting progress among four targets, rotating between them.
But now, when attacking the magical barrier, it could not build progress collectively against the entire Wild Hunt. Instead, it seemed to scatter the progress randomly.
Within the span of a single breath, the [Monster Hunt] progress failed to fill up before vanishing completely.
This was no different from [Monster Hunt] being ineffective when used through dragon breath.
"...Hah—"
While he was thinking, a piercing whistling sound of wind howled past his ears.
The black dragon flapped its massive wings, soaring skyward after unleashing another burst of dragon breath. Then, upon reaching a certain height, it dove again—Monster Hunt, sidestepping the incoming magical attacks, and breathed fire once more!
[Monster Hunt Progress: 11%]
[Monster Hunt Progress: 8%]
[Monster Hunt Progress: 13%]
[Monster Hunt Progress: 16%]
[Monster Hunt Progress: 24%]
This time, luck was on his side—the sixth strike finally triggered [Monster Hunt] on a completely different fifth target outside the four usual ones.
Of course, in the end, the Monster Hunt effect still ended, and the accumulated progress was reset.
At first glance, the progress of Monster Hunt seemed easy to fill—as long as the same target was "drawn" five or six times in a row. But with nearly a hundred Wild Hunt warriors present, it was already difficult to hit the same target twice in succession, let alone three times.
And to hit the same one five times consecutively…
Even if the black dragon drained every last drop of energy stored within its body, it would still be impossible!
Besides, the dragon's breath wasn't pure flame—it was a dense, oily substance filled with intense magical fluctuation, and its supply was limited.
"What should I do now?"
Allen stared at the golden barrier still standing firm amid the sea of fire, lost in thought.
-----------------------------------
Clip-clop, clip-clop~
A terrifying rider urged his skeletal horse forward, galloping wildly through the ruins.
This kind of terrain was hardly suitable for horses to run on — the vibrations from trampling over hard stone slabs could damage their leg bones. The uneven ground and the jagged remains scattered everywhere could easily slice through a horse's tendons.
But the skeletal steeds of the Wild Hunt clearly had no such concerns.
Though stripped of the power that once let them gallop through the void, they could still charge freely across rough, stony ground. Even near-vertical terrain posed no obstacle to these dreadful mounts.
"Ignatius, watch your step! How dare you get distracted on the battlefield?"
One of the riders in the Wild Hunt yanked on his comrade's reins to stop his skeletal steed from crashing into a half-collapsed stone wall.
A mortal-built wall could never harm the Wild Hunt that had ravaged worlds beyond count — but it could break their formation, and that would give the black dragon circling above an opening.
"Sorry…" Ignatius apologized, though he still looked dazed.
He raised his gaze toward the shadow in the sky, the pale-blue fire flickering uneasily in his hollow eye sockets.
'The dragon's breath didn't even break the Golden Shield… so why did it feel like I just brushed past death itself?'
Suppressing the dread creeping through his bones, Ignatius tugged at the reins, falling back into formation — yet he couldn't help glancing at the others.
"Gottfried, did you… feel anything strange just now?"
Gottfried gave him a puzzled look. "Strange? What do you mean?"
"Nothing…" Ignatius stared at the blue-gray flames burning in Gottfried's eye sockets, then slowly shook his head, convincing himself it had only been his imagination.
But of course, Ignatius wasn't the only one who had felt it.
Renakins, too, had asked the same question of his navigator beside him.
"What do you mean, a feeling of death?" the navigator replied, equally confused.
Beneath his mask, Renakins frowned. He was certain the chilling touch he'd felt on his heart — as though Death itself had brushed it with its dry bone fingers — hadn't been an illusion.
But his perception couldn't be sharper than that of a space-specialized navigator. Why was he the only one to sense the threat of death?
No…
Was he really the only one?
Renakins glanced back over his shoulder, tempted to call out — but thought better of it. He merely split a fragment of attention to quietly observe.
Bringing up something so vague would only shake morale.
"Stay sharp," Renakins' mental voice rippled across the ruins. "The two Moon Blades must land staggered on either side of the black dragon. Keep the Golden Shield stable — especially the Shield. There must be no weak points whatsoever."
"Yes, Centurion Renakins!" the riders of the Wild Hunt replied in unison, their hollow gazes locked onto the black dragon above, awaiting his command.
Renakins, too, fixed his burning gaze on the dragon.
Stealing the power of Ard Geath' Gate… summoning a black dragon… knowing my name, my identity as a Red Rider — and that strange power as well…
In the crimson ghostfire flickering within his mask, the shadow circling the sky was reflected faintly. Beneath it, Renakins furrowed his brow and muttered to himself:"Despicable thief… what are you?"
——
"What should I do now…"
The witcher frowned as he controlled the black dragon circling high above Ban Ard. Through sheer will, he opened his Witcher's Journal, searching through his personal list and inventory.
Now was when the advantage of commanding the skies truly showed. He could strike or retreat at will — the initiative was his entirely. That also gave him plenty of time to think about how to deal with his current predicament.
Yet the defense before him, which even his Huntcraft couldn't seem to pierce, left him at a loss.
"Signs are useless…"
"The black dragon only has its breath — or rather, I only know how to use its breath and melee attacks…"
"Blink might let me slip inside the magic barrier, but…" The witcher shook his head, abandoning the insane idea. "Even if I could, I can't fight the Wild Hunt in close combat — sword oils won't help either… Beast Roar: Berserk is no good…"
"Wait!"
As he mentally listed his available options, a spark of inspiration suddenly struck him.
"Sword oil… sword oil…"
Then it hit him — and he slapped his forehead, eyes lighting up.
"Of course!"
"It's just called sword oil — no one ever said it could only be used on swords!"
....
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