LIGHTNOVELSTORY Chapter 350: 351. Druid Allen?
A furious screech jolted Allen awake.
"I actually fell asleep!"
Startled, he sat up, only to find Vesemir still kneeling on the ground, deep in meditation.
There was no sign of the royal griffin in the sky.
Clearly, the cry that woke him wasn't from the royal griffin returning with its majestic aura of presence.
"Was that… a nightmare?" Allen couldn't make sense of it, though he had an odd feeling it wasn't a dream. It felt more like a response—like an echo in a canyon after a shout.
Could it have been the "Wild Speech"?
Recalling what happened before he "fell asleep," this was the only explanation he could think of.
The Witcher smacked his lips, noting a faint chill on his tongue, as if he had just drunk from a mountain spring. His thoughts were unusually clear.
"My perception seems… noticeably sharper…"
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[Name: Allen][Level: 58]
[HP: 100%, Stamina: 640/640, Mana: 780/780]
[Attributes: Strength 70, Agility 61, Constitution 63, Perception 80 (+3), Mystery 79]
[Affinities: Water 16 (Magic Source: Water +6%), Earth 12 (Magic Source: Earth +2%), Wind 10 (Magic Source: Wind +0%), Fire 7, Space 2]
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"Huh? It went up by three points!"
Startled, Allen quickly looked up at the sun's position to estimate the time.
"Two hours! I only 'slept' for two hours, and my Perception increased by three points!"
Three points of Perception might not seem like much—just enough to feel a tangible improvement. Drinking an extract from a large magical beast could easily give multiple times that amount.
But still!
But still!
The Beast Roar: Berserk technique only increased by four points in a whole week! In comparison, two hours of training Beast Roar: Wild Speech was astonishingly effective.
"Wait, no. If it were truly this effective, I would have noticed back at Kaer Morhen during my first training session. But at that time, it progressed as slowly and arduously as Beast Roar: Berserk—if not even slower..."
"What's going on here!"
Allen widened his eyes in disbelief.
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"Hmm? Allen, you—"
Vesemir's sudden voice interrupted his thoughts.
Allen turned towards the sound.
The Witcher master was rising to his feet, using his knee for support, his expression slightly puzzled as he looked at Allen.
"Master Vesemir, sorry for disturbing you..."
Before Allen could finish, his body jolted. He instinctively raised his head.
A black dot appeared in the cloudless southwestern sky, rapidly growing larger. The faint scent of blood began to fill the air.
The royal griffin had returned!
Seeing the silhouette of the griffin left Allen dumbfounded.
Could the screech from his "dream" truly have come from the griffin?
"What nonsense are you spouting? Forget disturbing me—get on your horse!" Vesemir hastily untied the reins and leapt onto his horse.
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"SCREEECH—"
The roar, brimming with rage and identical to the one in his "dream," sent the entire birch forest trembling in fear. Creatures and monsters alike scurried to hide.
Allen's mind went blank for a few seconds. Almost instinctively, he vaulted onto his horse and followed Vesemir in pursuit of the griffin.
The sound of galloping hooves echoed through the verdant forest, with trees and shrubs becoming a blur as they sped by.
"Were you not meditating earlier?" Vesemir shouted against the wind.
The horse, calmed by the Axii sign, continued galloping despite the griffin's shadow overhead.
Allen, somewhat distracted, was lost in thought about the "dream." Vesemir's call snapped him back to attention.
"Ah… no, I wasn't," Allen replied. "I was… thinking about something."
"I knew it," Vesemir laughed heartily. "The griffin arrived earlier than expected. If you had been meditating, I'd have been the first to wake up."
"There's no way your newly enhanced perception could surpass mine so quickly."
At times, the Witcher master's competitiveness could be almost childlike.
Allen let out a few perfunctory chuckles.
In truth, Vesemir's current Perception was 84 points, only four points higher than Allen's.
Those four points wouldn't last long. Once Allen figured out why Beast Roar: Wild Speech had suddenly become so effective, it would only take two or three hours to close the gap.
The key was...
"Why did it suddenly become so effective?"
And beyond that…
"How did I sense the griffin's cry so far in advance, as if it were echoing inside my mind?"
The potential of the Path of the Beast Roar seemed far greater than Allen had imagined.
He returned his focus to Beast Roar: Wild Speech.
Allen had a strong hunch that his previous training methods for the Path of the Beast Roar were the clumsiest and least efficient possible. It was like solving a math problem by brute force instead of using a more elegant approach.
To be honest, he had a few ideas he wanted to try. But the jolting of the saddle constantly interrupted the golden energy coursing through his body.
Allen's mastery of the Path of the Beast Roar was still too shallow.
"I'll have to wait until we either capture the griffin or lose its trail before experimenting further," he thought with a sigh, looking ahead.
Through the gaps in the dense foliage, the massive crimson figure in the sky was rapidly pulling away.
"Of course, it'd be better if we could catch up."
But that was unlikely.
Those on foot couldn't match the speed of something flying.
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After chasing for less than half an hour, the two Witchers gradually pulled their reins to a stop.
The royal griffin in the sky had shrunk to the size of a thumb before vanishing among the trees. More importantly, a sheer cliff at least 30 meters deep stretched across the sparse forest ahead of their horses.
"Another dead end," Vesemir sighed, turning to Allen. "I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"
"Does it matter?"
Disheartened, Allen dismounted and walked toward the cliff, scanning its edges for a way across.
Unfortunately, both sides extended 20-30 meters into dense forest, disappearing from view.
Oddly, the terrain was reminiscent of the valley where Viscount Hudson's abandoned mine was located.
"There's definitely a difference," Vesemir chuckled, not leaving Allen in suspense. "The good news is…"
He pointed toward the towering mountains in the distance.
"Mount Adrel is no more than two or three kilometers from here. Once we cross this chasm, we should reach its base by the day after tomorrow."
"Hmm, that's good news indeed," Allen nodded. "What's the bad news?"
"I just observed the griffin's flight direction and posture. That beast definitely nests on a cliffside. Even if we reach the mountain's base in two days, finding its lair might take much longer." Vesemir gazed at the mist-shrouded peaks in the distance and sighed helplessly.
Allen remained silent.
A piece of counterintuitive monster lore surfaced in his mind:
Ordinary griffins mostly inhabit towering mountain cliffs, while royal griffins, though far stronger than their ordinary counterparts and still nesting among the mountains, prefer rugged rock walls rather than high-altitude environments.
Monsterology offers an explanation: royal griffins are so powerful that the sheer oppressive aura of chaos magic bestowed upon them is enough to deter other predators from approaching.
Thus, they don't need to nest in high places.
This piece of knowledge was why they decided to pursue the royal griffin based on its flight trajectory. Had it been an ordinary griffin, they might have given up instead.
But now…
Though the royal griffin's behavior was unusual, Vesemir—an experienced witcher who had become a master by hunting griffins—was likely correct in his judgment.
"If it were before yesterday, we could have pursued it without time constraints until we caught up. But now…" Vesemir shook his head and then added:
"Judging by Vilgefortz's demeanor, Ban Ard must have suffered heavy losses last night. Even if Aedirn retreats and negotiates peace due to the royal griffin, they probably won't have the energy to cause us trouble…"
Hearing this, Allen looked toward the distant Adrel Mountains but did not rush to respond.
Vesemir's point made sense.
However, peace talks between the two nations due to the events at Ban Ard the previous night might spare the Wolf School some involvement—but it was just one possibility.
If the battlefield remained active, most of Kaedwen's and Ban Ard's forces would inevitably be tied up.
The difference between these two outcomes for the Wolf School was significant. Furthermore, Vesemir avoided mentioning another point—perhaps he didn't even consider it a possibility.
If they gave up here and made a trip to Kaer Morhen, it would take two weeks… or even with a portal marker left behind, it would still be a week before they could return. Would the royal griffin still be here then?
Missing this opportunity might mean waiting a long time for another desired creature to appear.
Allen did not deny his own selfish motives. Having a flying creature, however, would be invaluable—not just for him but for the entire Wolf School.
"It's still early—barely noon. Let's look for a way across this cliff first. As for giving up..." Allen took a deep breath. "I'll think about it later."
Vesemir nodded slightly, patted his shoulder, and said no more.
He trusted Allen's character and abilities. Unlike dealing with younger witchers like Erni, Vesemir didn't need to make decisions on Allen's behalf.
Allen was already fully trained. He would make the best decision, better than any possibility Vesemir could think of.
Just like last night—had they gone to rescue people without any preparation, as suggested, they might have been turned into the eighth and ninth statues alongside the two sorcerers upon first contact.
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The sound of hoofbeats slowed but remained efficient.
The terrain of mountain cliffs was much easier to navigate than rivers.
Though Vesemir verbally suggested leaving, his experience allowed him to find a vantage point and discern the cliff's layout in just half an hour.
It took less than ten more minutes to discover a natural stone bridge.
There was a two-step-wide gap in the middle of the bridge, but the horses leaped over it with ease.
Once Vesemir marked the spot on the map and crossed to the other side of the cliff along the royal griffin's flight path, it was just past noon. But in truth, today's hunt was over.
As mentioned earlier, without the royal griffin "leading the way," it was impossible to find its nest based on intuition alone.
Vesemir pulled on the reins, surveying the surrounding landmarks and calculating distances to mark them on the map.
"Have you decided?" he asked.
"I have one more method," Allen replied after a few moments of silence, dismounting his horse. "I can give it a try."
Vesemir sighed, shaking his head helplessly but not stopping him.
Allen didn't mind.
Ultimately, Vesemir's objections were rooted in a lack of time.
But the lack of time wasn't due to any real urgency—it was because too much time had been wasted.
With only half an hour, at most an hour each day, dedicated to pursuing the royal griffin, how could time not be tight?
After dismounting, Allen took a deep breath, focusing on a hypothesis in his mind. Then…
"Fir…"
The ancient, graceful syllable echoed through the empty forested mountains.
"Buzz~"
"Buzz~"
Two medallions hummed.
Golden-brown ripples visible only to witchers spread outward like waves in a pond, centering on Allen and extending quickly.
Within the fifty-meter radius of the ripple, countless lifeforms' auras appeared in his mind.
A raven hiding behind green leaves on a birch tree, a squirrel resting in a hollow trunk, a gray rabbit avoiding a black snake, earthworms ten meters underground burrowing through fertile soil…
All of these creatures could be influenced through Wild Speech, even engaged in simple dialogue, but it had no use for tracking.
Summer insects cannot discuss winter.
The simpler the creature, the easier it was to control—but their minds were also more chaotic. Allen could make a rabbit relax, pause, or extend its claws, but he couldn't make it guide him.
Not only because these simple-minded creatures were frightened senseless when the royal griffin flew past, but also because they lacked the intelligence found in many fantasy stories.
They had no concept of "direction" or "location." A command to lead the way to the royal griffin's nest would only make them run in circles. Of course, it might also be that Allen himself hadn't yet mastered this skill.
"It's not this…" Allen assessed the situation, summoning the raven, squirrel, gray rabbit, and black snake. After finding no changes compared to the past, he canceled Wild Speech.
Then, taking a deep breath, he noticed Vesemir's golden cat-like eyes widening with curiosity as the older witcher watched him, a mix of surprise and doubt on his face.
Allen crouched gently, his knees touching the ground.
Closing his eyes…
"Thump~"
"Thump~"
His heartbeat slowed, its unique rhythm becoming calm and steady.
In an instant.
Golden sparks flickered within his blood.
He noticed a difference.
Suppressing the sudden and intensifying drowsiness, he heard faint, soft voices—maternal, warm, kind…
It was as though these sounds, almost imperceptible at first, were trying to lull him to sleep, making him feel like he was cradled in the safest, coziest place in the world.
When they realized he resisted resting, these tender, soothing voices became teasing, using ancient words Allen didn't understand but instinctively comprehended to coax him:
"Child, what is it that you seek?"
Without hesitation, the witcher replied in his heart: "The royal griffin, I…"
Before he could finish, a sharp cry pierced the eastern sky over the Adrel Mountains.
"Skreeee—"
The monster's screech rang out.
.....
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352. The Royal Griffin!!!
353. The Reason the Royal Griffin Stays High.
354. How Much Did Mason Offer? I'll Triple It!
355. The Truth Exposed?
356. The Purpose of Vilgfortz.