The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

"Summoning badge, a little gadget Ban Ard distributed to the sorcerers," noticing Allen's curiosity about the badge, Vilgefortz explained, "When the academy faces danger, the headmaster or a few deputy headmasters can activate the badge to summon sorcerers from across the Northern Continent to return for aid..."

"That was something from two or three months ago, born out of the Ban Ard Black Sun incident."

"At that time, most of the academy's main forces were at Aretuza, so they couldn't come to aid immediately, resulting in heavy losses."

"And the summoning badge's current status level..."

He glanced sideways at the badge, which was now glowing with increasingly urgent red light and emitting an even more rapid alarm:

"The City of Ban Ard may already be burning in half, like in the legends of Maribor under Alzur's Double Cross..."

Hearing this, Allen raised an eyebrow, exchanged a glance with Vesemir, who was approaching cautiously, and thought to himself that the alarming disturbance earlier in the afternoon had indeed originated from Ban Ard.

"Vilgefortz, this is..." Lydia walked over, interrupting with a sense of panic.

Vilgefortz shook his head dismissively.

However, he did not continue speaking. Upon seeing the sorceress, he turned his head to look at her without any defense and gently asked: "Are you alright, Lydia?"

"I'm fine," the sorceress replied softly, shaking her head.

But her appearance—skin pale as paper, her breathing heavy and labored, her trembling, faltering legs, and the missing buttons on her chest—likely two of them—left her normally elegant attire in complete disarray...

All these outward signs pointed to one thing...

She wasn't as "fine" as she claimed.

Neither her battle with Vesemir nor Alzur's Thunder spell had been easy for her.

Although Vesemir looked equally battered at first glance, his condition was far from as dire.

Covered in dirt and grass, his chiseled face was drained of color from a mix of alghoul Decoction and Blizzard potion, with black veins visible on his temples. Yet, his steady breathing betrayed the truth—this master witcher still had the strength to fight.

What's more, his dark golden irises were now tinged with a ghostly blue hue.

Even if the Thunder spell had been successfully cast earlier, it likely wouldn't have done much to the experienced Vesemir. On the contrary, it might have given him the chance to decisively defeat the sorceress.

Seeing this, Allen finally let out a long breath of relief.

Without a word, he deactivated Moster Hunt, then crouched to carefully pick up a jade figurine from the ground.

Shock, confusion, grogginess, delight...

Not a single expression of anger or struggle was on its face—one even had a smile.

How absurd!

From the looks of it, the young witcher had either been vastly outmatched in strength, completely unprepared, or perhaps both.

The moment he showed himself, he'd been subdued and turned into a jade figurine through a transformation seal.

Judging by the grim expression on Vesemir's face, the young ones would undoubtedly face consequences after this ordeal.

"Clang! Clang! Clang~"

The summoning badge rang out its impatient chime.

Allen and Vesemir remained silent while Vilgefortz only spared Lydia a brief moment of concern.

When the witcher picked up the jade figurine, not only did Vilgefortz refrain from stopping him, but he also extended an arm to block Lydia as she instinctively stepped forward to intervene. Instead, he stood perfectly still, watching Allen pocket the figurine.

After securing the jade figurine, Allen looked up to see Vilgefortz giving him a refined smile.

If not for the lingering traces of primal magic's murderous intent still clinging to his thoughts, Allen might have mistaken this cordial smile for one shared between old friends who'd just played a harmless joke.

"Truly worthy of being the major boss from the original narrative, adept at maneuvering between the Northern Kingdoms and Nilfgaard, thriving on both sides..."

Allen heightened his vigilance inwardly.

"The anomaly from the North cannot be concealed—they must have noticed it too. Trying to cover for Ban Ard is pointless," Vilgefortz said, gently patting Lydia's shoulder to reassure her.

"However, since we're aligned with Ban Ard, we naturally fall under its obligations. Because of this, some drastic measures had to be taken..."

"Hmph~" Vesemir snorted coldly.

Allen stayed silent.

Vilgefortz had captured the young witcher before the anomaly occurred, even leaving behind what could only be described as a provocative letter.

Allen, however, knew this was just a pretext, a way for both sides to de-escalate the situation.

Why Vilgefortz had suddenly gone from radiating murderous intent to acting amicably, even willing to make concessions, was unclear for now.

But for the witchers, the undeniable fact was that Vilgefortz still held two hostages. They had no choice but to compromise.

As such...

Vesemir said nothing more after his cold snort.

Gentle moonlight spilled over the shattered ground, strewn with rubble and mud, painting it in a tranquil silver hue.

With both sides inclined to ease tensions, the atmosphere naturally began to relax.

"Shh—"

Another jade figurine appeared in Vilgefortz's hand, which he lightly tossed over to Allen.

Right after...

A small chest materialized on the ground before Vilgefortz.

"Artefact compression spell is a powerful spell, and undoing it requires a specific ritual," Vilgefortz explained, gesturing toward the chest. It opened with a snap, revealing black candles, chalk, a two-sided mirror, iron stands, and other items.

Allen frowned as he took the sixth jade figurine.

"Unbinding rituals are prone to tampering, and it's not common to trust strangers to perform them. Especially since our encounter was less than pleasant," Vilgefortz smiled. "However, black wax crafted from doppler blood, finely polished parabolic mirrors, pure crystals..."

"For those unfamiliar with the intricacies of Artefact compression, gathering these materials on short notice would be difficult. And as you're aware..."

"The longer a lifeform remains sealed under this spell, the greater the damage to its organs. So..."

Vilgefortz waved his hand, and the chest floated over to the two witchers' feet.

"These will undoubtedly help you. As for the ritual itself, while you won't trust me, I'm sure you can find a suitable sorcerer, can't you?"

"What's your goal?" Allen asked, frowning deeply.

While it made sense for Vilgefortz to negotiate after an evenly-matched battle in which he failed to secure a decisive upper hand, his current actions—returning the young witcher's figurines and providing a box of valuable unbinding tools—made no sense.

Both sides were destined to be enemies by nature.

After today, they could simply part ways and never cross paths again.

Something felt off, Allen thought.

"What's done is done, and it cannot be undone. However..." Vilgefortz retrieved the final jade figurine from an unknown space and gently placed it on the ground. "There's no fundamental enmity between us, is there?"

"On the contrary..."

Vilgefortz's gaze briefly lingered on Lydia's chest before flicking downward to his own disheveled appearance. The remaining obsidian gemstone embedded in his ceremonial robes appeared almost comical.

"We've suffered great losses—ten years of resources, gone in an instant..."

With a flick of his hand, the summoning badge on the dead white horse's reins detached and, along with the mud-splattered metal staff, flew toward him.

The two witchers just watched without intervening.

This delighted Vilgefortz immensely.

He laughed heartily, brushing the mud off his staff with a carefree air, as if indifferent to worldly possessions. Then, he touched the obsidian gem on his chest.

A dark purple light flickered in the gem's core.

The entire gemstone then detached from his attire, falling beside the jade figurine on the ground.

"I'm a man who admires strong individuals. Today's offense was merely to fulfill the academy's task. This…" he gestured at the gem casually, "is our apology and a token of our first meeting…"

"I believe our paths won't end here today."

With that, Vilgefortz didn't wait for the witchers to respond.

"Boom!"

After a brief incantation, an orange-yellow portal swirled into existence in the wilderness, whipping up a gust of wind.

"Let's go, Lydia," he said, stepping into the portal.

Lydia followed closely behind.

Vesemir and Allen exchanged glances and moved toward the portal, intending to pick up the obsidian gem and the final jade figurine.

Just then—

"Bang!"

The "light spell" orb hovering above their heads suddenly exploded.

The two witchers instinctively crossed their arms, casting Quen signs to shield themselves.

Amid the blinding flash, Allen glimpsed vague, familiar figures through the faint purple glow of his shield.

But in the blink of an eye, it was nothing but pure light.

When he tried to look again—

"Boom!"

The sound of the portal closing pulled his attention, and the bright white light of the "light spell" disappeared entirely.

"Was… was it just an illusion?" Allen frowned.

"Clack, clack, clack~"

While Allen was lost in thought, Vesemir walked over, picked up the obsidian gem and the final jade figurine, and handed them to Allen.

"That Vilgefortz guy doesn't seem so bad!"

"Using a triggerable gem as an apology gift… and an obsidian one at that… Tsk, tsk… What generosity…"

Vesemir didn't suspect any foul play, leaning toward the idea that Vilgefortz had been impressed by Allen's strength.

As for why—

Allen had always been a likable guy.

Who wouldn't appreciate someone so powerful yet filled with boundless potential, and mature enough to not be a burden?

Moreover, who would use an instantly triggerable gem worth tens or even hundreds of thousands of orens as part of a scheme?

The payoff would need to be astronomical to make it worthwhile.

In these increasingly chaotic times, where conflicts arose over loyalties, prejudice, interests, or even trivial disagreements, it was common to reconcile and laugh things off after crossing swords. Sometimes, such encounters even forged lifelong friendships.

Vesemir himself had many such friends—especially dwarves.

If even today's skirmish, which caused almost no damage and brought far more benefit than loss, couldn't be magnanimously accepted, one would only end up with fewer friends and twice as many enemies in the future.

"Honestly, we should've kept him here to help lift the Artefact compression spell on Enri and the others… Lady Vera might not even be back at Kaer Morhen… By the way, Allen, should we continue chasing the griffon? Or should we first—"

"No!" Allen interrupted, shaking his head. "We'll continue tomorrow."

"But Enri and the others—"

"Trust me, Vesemir. Once we've dealt with the griffon, lifting their Artefact compression spell will be faster."

"Huh?" Vesemir looked at him, puzzled.

"And…" Allen paused, narrowing his eyes as he gazed into the darkness under the pure moonlight, as if searching for some hidden truth.

"And what?"

"Vilgefortz can't be trusted! He's dangerous! Extremely dangerous!"

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

"Boom!"

An orange portal opened in the depths of Ban Ard Academy.

As Vilgefortz and Lydia stepped out, they instinctively darted to the sides.

"Boom!"

A towering black spire descended, its star-shaped tip crafted from pure mithril.

This spire was renowned across the Northern Realms, symbolizing the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, the core of northern magic, and the original gathering place of the centuries-old Chapter of the Gift and the Art.

Countless tales, whether mysterious, glorious, vile, or noble, had unfolded here.

Every five years, the most significant mage conclave in the magical world was held in this very place.

In the past, Vilgefortz might have been awestruck by such a scene, but not today.

After dodging, he merely glanced at the ongoing battle. As he had anticipated, half of Ban Ard was ablaze, but the academy seemed to hold the upper hand. Without even noting who their enemies were, he strode directly toward the academy's depths.

Upon activating the recall sigil and returning to the academy, the surrounding noise faded away. This allowed Vilgefortz and Lydia to bypass the burning battlefield bathed in magical glows of various hues and return upstream to his tower unimpeded.

"Vilgefortz, are you okay?"

Seeing this strange behavior, Lydia asked with concern.

"I'm fine!" Vilgefortz replied without looking back.

"But why did you—"

"Shh!" Lydia's words were cut off as Vilgefortz turned, placing a finger to his lips to silence her.

At that moment, she suddenly realized how unfamiliar her once-revered and admired companion had become.

His face was expressionless.

Yet, having spent so much time with him, Lydia could sense that Vilgefortz was as ecstatic as a blazing bonfire on a festive night.

At this moment, with the entirety of Ban Ard engulfed in flames, such fervent excitement felt so alien that it frightened her.

What had happened?

Silently, she followed him back to his tower. Upon entering, they climbed to the second floor, entering Vilgefortz's study, crammed with books and documents.

"Rustle, rustle~"

As soon as they entered, Vilgefortz began rifling through papers in an uncharacteristically haphazard manner. This was unlike him—he had always loathed disorder.

"What… what are you looking for?" she couldn't help but ask.

Then suddenly—

Vilgefortz froze mid-action and began reciting ancient prophecies manically. Nearby lay an intricate map.

"Know this: the time of swords and axes draws near, the age of the wolf amidst snow and storm."

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

"First, Filius Miraculi—the Child of Miracles—shall be born in the land of frost."

"Death and rebirth, a being of no-man shall bring blood and fire."

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

"…Land of frost… death and rebirth… a being of no-man… and…"

Vilgefortz abruptly strode to the window.

"Boom!"

Another tower ignited in flames and collapsed into the night.

The air reeked of iron and charred flesh.

"…Blood and fire!"

"Vil… Vilgefortz…" Lydia called out in terror.

Vilgefortz suddenly turned to her, his bloodshot eyes alight with manic joy.

"The core of Elder Blood's power lies in the lineage…"

"Lydia!"

"What do you think is the source of the Child of Miracles?"

.....

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