The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

"Caw—"

The sound wave struck the witcher master like a heavy hammer, gripping his throat and pounding against his ribs.

The faint purple magic barrier from the Aard sign shimmered like rippling water in front of him. Before him, the Royal Griffin spread its enormous wings, dividing the cavern into two halves.

Vesemir appeared as small as an ant standing before this eagle-like giant.

"Come on, you damned beast!"

Vesemir wiped the foul-smelling saliva of the creature off his face and shouted provocatively to draw the Royal Griffin's attention.

The creature, already filled with hatred for humans, didn't even consider taking flight. Its talons dug into the rocky ground as it crouched and shot its beak like an arrow toward the witcher master.

It didn't realize, however, that the witcher master's gaze would occasionally flick to a spot above its head— to a stone pillar, slightly distorted as if submerged in water.

"Boom!"

The witcher master dodged sideways, narrowly avoiding the attack.

The sharp eagle beak struck the blood-red ground, sending fragments of rock and remains flying.

"Allen, get ready!" Vesemir shouted.

The Quen shield on his leather armor flickered under the impact of the flying debris, but he paid it no mind. He stared into the ferocious eagle eyes, each larger than his head, and curled his middle finger before sharply thrusting his hand toward the Royal Griffin.

Aard Sign.

The griffin's eyes took a direct hit, its iron-like eyelids twisting under the force, tears streaming from the corners. The immense invisible force distorted the air, slamming the griffin's head sideways.

"Caw—"

The Royal Griffin cried in pain, raising its head and closing its eyes.

"Now!" Vesemir yelled, quickly darting toward the corner of the cavern.

At the same time, a figure clad in red leather armor materialized on the stone pillar near the griffin's beak.

Gripping the protrusion of the pillar with one hand, the figure swung a loop of bright green rope with the other.

As the griffin raised its head to its highest point, he squinted his piercing blue eyes and hurled the Behemoth Snare at its head.

The green rope flew toward its target, glowing faintly as it expanded, enlarging rapidly in midair.

In less than half a second, it grew to match the size of the griffin's massive head, securing it tightly. Allen used the moment to drop onto the griffin's dense black mane.

The beast's strong smell filled his nose.

"Caw!"

In an instant, the pained Royal Griffin widened its eyes in panic, thrashing its head violently.

Its talons scraped the ground, sparks flying as it clawed at its neck.

Its sparse-feathered wings flailed chaotically, battering the walls, ground, and even the ceiling of the cavern.

The wind it created blew fragments of bodies and remains everywhere, with some being swept off the cliff at one side. Fortunately, Vesemir had anticipated this and hid in a narrow corner of the cavern.

"All going according to plan!" Leaning against a stalagmite, his heart was still racing erratically.

Even though the griffin's reactions matched their expectations, provoking a top-tier monster was no less thrilling than dancing on the edge of a blade.

Peeking at the frenzied Royal Griffin as the gale whipped his hair into disarray, Vesemir didn't even notice.

"Tsk, tsk!" Vesemir clicked his tongue. "That green rope—how the hell is it made? So small and yet so effective!"

"But from here on, it's all up to Allen!"

Just as he finished speaking—

"Caw—"

The Royal Griffin, unable to break free from the Behemoth Snare, let out a terrified cry. Its wings swept through piles of bones and gore as it stumbled toward the outside. Then, it fell backward, plummeting off the hundreds-of-meters-high cliff.

"Allen!"

Witnessing this, Vesemir leapt up in alarm.

He rushed forward, shouting, as the Royal Griffin fell from sight, vanishing into the misty white clouds below.

"Damn it! I should never have agreed to Allen's crazy idea! I must've been out of my mind to be convinced so easily…"

Vesemir cursed, gripping the edge of the cliff in frustration.

For the griffin, this height might result in severe injuries, but for a witcher, even a master witcher, falling from such a height meant certain death—Quen sign or not. Before he could think of a way down—

"Caw—"

From below the mountain came the angry, resonant cry of the Royal Griffin.

The fury in the cry was evident, but there was no pain.

"Allen!" Vesemir leaned over the edge to look below.

"Whoosh—"

The frantic wind dispersed the clouds.

Almost at the exact moment Vesemir peered down, a massive black-and-red figure soared up, grazing past his head.

The gust severed his hair tie, leaving his hair flying wildly in the wind.

He casually grabbed his hair to keep it from blocking his vision and squinted as he looked upward.

"Caw—"

The Royal Griffin's flight path was chaotic, crashing into cliffs and snapping thick pine trees along the way. But none of these obstacles achieved their aim.

Amidst the black mane on its back, the green lasso grew even brighter, emitting a luminescence so vivid that even the blazing sun couldn't overshadow it.

"Phew~"

Vesemir let out a sigh of relief and plopped onto the ground, unbothered by whether it was hard or soft beneath him.

"That brat… really knows how to make people worry!"

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

On the other side.

"Click—"

An unusual sound came from the griffin's mane as the Behemoth Snare tightened another notch.

"Damn Witcher's Journal, couldn't even include a user manual!"

Allen cursed under his breath.

It had been a close call earlier. He had assumed that simply throwing the lasso over the griffin's head would tame it.

Who would've thought that it would require a significant amount of time after being placed?

Once the lasso from the Clan of the Cyclops was secured on the Royal Griffin, five knot-like glowing green clasps appeared within the circular loop.

Only when the loop tightened to the final clasp would the beast be tamed.

"Caw!"

The Royal Griffin spun into a barrel roll in midair, trying to shake Allen off its back. But Allen gripped the lasso with one hand and clutched the mane tightly with the other.

With a dual grip, no amount of thrashing or jolting could dislodge him.

Meanwhile, the griffin's resistance and rejection traveled through the glowing green lasso like hammer blows to the witcher's mind.

"Urgh—"

Allen groaned, blood trickling from his nose, as he endured the mental onslaught that felt like his brain was about to shatter.

Taking advantage of a brief lull in the griffin's emotional struggle, he pushed through the pain and sent another mental wave through the lasso—

"Ascend!"

"Caw—"

The griffin let out a terrified screech.

It was as if a wildly beating heart had been gripped by cold fingers.

Something deeply vital to it was slipping further and further away.

Yet, it couldn't help but obey the command in its mind, leaving the mountains, abandoning its freedom, and flapping its wings higher than the clouds.

"Click~"

Another clasp of the rope was secured. Now, only one more remained.

"Caw!"

The Royal Griffin's struggles became even more intense, and the emotional assaults on the witcher's mind grew increasingly frequent.

Yet, like tides crashing against a cliff face, each attempt was powerless, withdrawing again and again in futility.

However, judging from the pallor of the witcher's face and the blood seeping out across it, these mental attacks were not easy for him to endure.

But with every clasp secured, the Cyclopean Clan's Behemoth Snare transitioned from tangible to ethereal. Allen could feel himself drawing closer to the core of the Royal Griffin's mind.

This filled him with exhilaration, steeling his resolve as he gripped the beast's black mane tightly, solidifying the bond symbolized by the green rope of the binding spell.

"What a marvelous binding rope!" the witcher exclaimed, filled with newfound confidence.

Victory was within reach.

Until…

"Caw—"

The Royal Griffin let out a cry filled with utter despair.

Allen braced himself, expecting another attack, but to his surprise, the binding rope did not transmit any emotional or mental assault.

The next moment, he understood.

Because he found himself falling—plummeting downward at breakneck speed.

"Buzz-buzz~"

The wolf medallion vibrated.

A faint blue magical glow enveloped the sparse black and red feathers of the Griffin's wings.

The enormous creature's body, like an arrow shot from a ballista, pierced through the pure white clouds, hurtling toward the green earth below.

"Smart girl!" Allen thought to himself.

The Cyclopean Clan's Behemoth Snare was "fair"—every time the Royal Griffin launched a mental attack, Allen could command it for a few seconds.

Conversely, if the Griffin refrained from attacking, Allen couldn't control its mind.

To realize this pattern in less than ten minutes was impressive. This Royal Griffin was truly intelligent, perhaps even smarter than an average human under such chaotic circumstances.

"Too bad it's too late…"

The wind howled as the forest loomed ever closer.

Flocks of birds, sensing the overwhelming pressure, scattered from their perches on the treetops, swirling around the Griffin's falling form before dispersing.

And then…

"Click~"

A crisp sound, almost drowned out by the roaring wind, subtly yet irrevocably changed everything.

The Royal Griffin suddenly shifted direction with a powerful flap of its wings.

Its massive body, which had been nearly perpendicular to the ground, leveled out in an instant.

"Caw~"

With a pained and aggrieved cry, the sudden change in direction sent a gust of wind blasting through the forest below. Trees within a 20-to-30-meter radius swayed violently, with younger ones snapping outright. The scene was truly spectacular.

Releasing his grip on the thick mane with his left hand, Allen found the Behemoth Snare in his right hand had vanished.

Only the lifelike eagle-head emblem etched on the back of his hand, along with the faint green glow shimmering beneath the Griffin's dense mane, proved its existence.

"Amazing," the witcher marveled, holding his right hand up to his eyes. "How did the Cyclopean Clan create such a wondrous binding rope?"

"Caw~"

The Royal Griffin let out a low, fearful cry, sounding pitiful.

"Don't be scared, good girl. I'll treat you well!"

Interrupted by the Griffin's mournful call, the witcher patted its rigid mane. He felt as if he were comforting a wounded girl, and the thought made him chuckle.

The day was bright, the skies a brilliant blue that lifted the spirit.

Wiping the blood off his face, Allen's grin stretched wider and wider until he was laughing heartily.

The Royal Griffin!

At last, it was his!

With her, where in this vast witcher world could he not go?

Taking a deep breath to calm his excitement, Allen gently patted the Griffin's mane and sent a thought through the newly formed green mental link: "Let's head back."

"Vesemir must be getting impatient…"

"Caw~"

The Royal Griffin responded obediently, spreading its wings and soaring toward the majestic Adrel Mountains.

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

Vesemir was indeed growing impatient.

Before the Royal Griffin even landed, he could be seen striding out of the darkness of the cave, rushing to the edge and peering out expectantly.

"Weren't you worried it might come back alone, without me?"

Allen leapt down from the Royal Griffin and joked.

Vesemir scrutinized Allen closely, noting only some bloodstains on his face. After confirming the situation, he shook his head with mild exasperation.

"And what if that happened?"

"If you hadn't returned, I wouldn't have the face to go back to Kaer Morhen."

Vesemir's tone was solemn, so serious that Allen was momentarily taken aback.

"Don't take such risks…" The witcher master hesitated briefly. "At least, try not to. The future of the school doesn't always have to come at your expense."

"Your safety is more important than you think!"

"The grandmaster and I have discussed your future many times. Vera and Mary are still waiting for you in Kaer Morhen. Even Ellander has Lysa…"

"Ahem~" Allen coughed lightly, interrupting Vesemir's rambling. "Lysa and I… we're nothing… just friends…"

"And Mary?" Vesemir seized on the slip. "So you and Mary are something?"

Allen, a bit flustered, was pondering how to explain himself when…

"Caw~"

The Royal Griffin's cry came to his rescue.

Vesemir's attention was instantly drawn away.

He approached the massive beast, its size towering over him, and found himself barely as tall as one of its legs. "I can't believe you actually tamed the Royal Griffin!"

Clicking his tongue in amazement, he tried to stroke its black back feathers, but the Griffin recoiled, snapping its beak toward him in warning.

"Whoa, whoa~" Allen quickly stepped in to intervene, standing between them. "Easy, good girl. Don't be angry. This is Vesemir—he's a friend."

Only then did the Griffin relent, turning away to preen its wind-blown, sparse feathers with its beak.

"Incredible!"

Vesemir was not deterred. His golden cat-like eyes studied the massive creature in awe.

What man hasn't dreamed of becoming a dragon rider?

Although a Griffin was weaker than a dragon, it too could soar through the skies.

After admiring the Griffin for a long while, Vesemir seemed to remember something. Turning to Allen, he said: "By the way!"

"Do you know why this Royal Griffin nested so high up?"

"Why?" Allen paused, genuinely puzzled.

It was indeed unusual. If the Griffin had nested in the lower mountains as described in the monster compendiums, many of today's hidden dangers wouldn't have arisen.

For instance, at the start, when the Griffin had lost control and plunged off the cliff in panic.

If not for the Cyclopean Clan's Behemoth Snare allowing Allen to issue commands after receiving a mental assault…

A fatal ending for both man and beast wouldn't have been out of the question.

"Come with me!"

With a mysterious smile, Vesemir gestured for Allen to follow him into the depths of the cave.

.....

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