The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

"Da-da-da~"

The urgent clatter of hooves came to a halt. The uneven riverside terrain was illuminated by several blazing orbs of white light, turning night into day.

"This is the place."

It was a statement, not a question.

Under the stark glow of the light, the trail of blood and remnants of magic were plainly visible.

"Indeed," Miguel tugged on the reins, urging his horse forward a few steps. "Can you manage, Vilgefortz?"

"Those creatures must have used some shielding magic. Both pyromancy and hydromancy failed to track the bloodied fabric."

"I'll give it a try," Vilgefortz replied, though he avoided overpromising.

One of the light orbs illuminating the riverside descended from the sky, hovering for a few seconds over the spots where traces of magic damage lingered.

With a gentle wave of his hand, the sapphire ring on Vilgefortz's right index finger glimmered with a cerulean light.

The floating orb instantly dispersed like mist, enveloping the battlefield along the riverbank.

In an instant—

The mist transformed into two humanoid figures clad in ghastly skeletal armor, relentlessly pursuing a male sorcerer.

Upon seeing the familiar forms, most of the twelve sorcerers on horseback instinctively leaned back, tightening their grip on the reins.

"Whoosh~"

As the night wind howled, the white mist turned into pale flames that surged toward them, prompting everyone to hurriedly cast a kaleidoscope of magical barriers around themselves.

"It's just an illusion," Vilgefortz remarked, noting the commotion behind him. He tapped the saddle lightly with his finger.

The sapphire ring's glow dimmed.

The mist, once shaped into ghostly forms, reverted to an orb of light and floated a short distance upstream along the Lixela River before pausing.

"Whoosh~"

Many sorcerers exhaled in relief.

"What a brilliant spell," Miguel commented, watching the guiding orb ahead, his tone filled with admiration.

Only seasoned sorcerers like them could truly appreciate the elegance and complexity of such a layered ancient magic.

"As expected of the Source. If it weren't for you, we might have wasted the clue Lyon risked his life to bring back."

Vilgefortz gently shook his head, saying nothing.

Miguel noticed his gaze drifting toward the group and turned to look.

Under the multicolored glow of their magic shields, the sorcerers wore expressionless faces.

There was no shifty avoidance or awkwardness of being caught out—only a lifeless silence.

They had once been the backbone of the academy, the pillars of their factions. And now, just an illusion was enough to...

Sigh~

Miguel sighed inwardly but managed a strained smile to reassure them.

"Lyon made it back even after being seriously injured. As you saw earlier, these were just two of those creatures, and they were already heavily wounded."

"And we have four high-tier sorcerers, seven mid-tier sorcerers, and a Source."

At this, the group glanced at Vilgefortz, their morale somewhat restored.

Miguel turned back, looking again at the hovering orb of light. "Vilgefortz, can you cast that spell once more?"

"While we may hold the advantage in numbers, strength, and preparation, knowing more about the Wild Hunt's methods could spare us a great deal of trouble."

"Of course," Vilgefortz replied, lightly tapping his index finger again. The sapphire ring gleamed.

Once more, the riverside became a stage for a dynamic illusion crafted from the white mist.

This time, everyone observed the spell intently, with two senior sorcerers even engaging in a lively discussion.

Vilgefortz also kept his eyes on the unfolding illusions, gracefully addressing occasional questions from the others. However, his gaze wasn't truly focused on the mist.

To be honest, if this had been three days ago—

Even without experiencing the "maelstrom of magic" firsthand, he would have been deeply intrigued by the Wild Hunt—legendary beings capable of wreaking havoc at the heart of the sorcerer world.

But now, or rather in recent days...

A pair of icy blue feline eyes constantly appeared before him—cold, unyielding, and omnipresent. Whether in the darkness or the cracks of the void, they watched him unblinkingly.

That chilling indifference, control, and power were so... so mesmerizing.

It made his heart race, his blood boil, his breathing quicken...

Whenever he snapped out of it, a fine layer of sweat coated his body, drenching his black robe.

He had found something he longed for.

"Vilgefortz…"

Miguel's voice echoed in his mind like a reverberation underwater.

Snapped out of his thoughts, Vilgefortz frowned in annoyance but quickly composed himself.

He turned to Miguel and smiled humbly.

"Vilgefortz, today wouldn't have been possible without you. We'd have accomplished nothing."

"I'm just a part of Ban Ard," Vilgefortz replied mentally, "and Lord Sunny has already promised me enough rewards, even if I fail to complete the mission."

"It's an unusual situation. The academy's summons must take precedence. No one would blame you for not catching those witchers... uh…" Miguel paused, glancing at the group's still slightly dispirited morale. He sighed helplessly. "Once we catch up to the Wild Hunt, we'll probably need you to lend a hand."

"Of course, it's my duty as part of the academy." Vilgefortz smiled kindly.

Thinking the conversation was over, Vilgefortz tilted his head to check on the progress of Ithlinne's Star. But he noticed Miguel seemed hesitant to speak.

"What is it, Miguel? If there's anything you need, feel free to ask. We're all on the same side," Vilgefortz said telepathically.

"It's nothing, really…" Miguel hesitated. "I was just curious—have you been studying staff combat recently? I happened to see you practicing under the mage tower earlier today..."

Hearing this, Vilgefortz's smile froze. His right hand instinctively smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles on his chest.

When his fingers brushed the ordinary gemstones he'd used as replacement buttons, his expression stiffened further.

"It's not... really research. Just... a hobby," he stammered.

"Oh, a hobby! I see." Miguel didn't notice Vilgefortz's discomfort and smiled. "I happen to have some ancient elven engravings on staff techniques. Once this mission is over, I'll share them with you."

"Thank… thank you," Vilgefortz replied.

"It's just a few books." Miguel waved his hand dismissively, but then, recalling Vilgefortz's druidic background and lack of formal sorcerer training, he added, "But remember, hobbies are fine, yet we sorcerers must ultimately rely on our mental strength and magic."

"Staff combat may have been prominent in the elven era, and even our academy teaches some basics to apprentices…"

"But that's partly to train their reflexes, and partly because many apprentices lack the talent for powerful spells. Their casting strength and other qualities are too weak, so they need staff skills to protect themselves from mercenaries or bandits."

"For someone with great talent, it's better to focus entirely on developing their magical strengths. That's the proper path for a sorcerer."

"There are many ways to avoid being caught off guard in close combat. Staff combat is the most time-consuming and least practical of them all."

"Forgive me for rambling. I've taught too many apprentices," Miguel apologized. "But you're still so young, Vilgefortz... and you're a Source. Such an enviable gift—don't waste it…"

Vilgefortz wasn't annoyed. He responded with a faint smile, "Thank you, Miguel, but staff combat is really just a personal interest."

Miguel nodded slightly and said no more.

The telepathic conversation between the two sorcerers didn't interrupt the unfolding mist illusions.

Before long, the white mist representing the sorcerer Lyon fled beyond the boundaries of the illusion, while the two Wild Hunt figures staggered, making their way upstream along the Lixela River.

After Lyon's escape, the Wild Hunt visibly faltered, their pace slowing considerably.

This sparked murmurs among the sorcerers, bolstering their morale.

Once all three figures had exited the illusion, the white mist collapsed, reforming into a brilliant orb of light.

Vilgefortz hesitated briefly, lowering his gaze.

The sudden brilliance cast shadows that flickered unevenly across the ground.

Miguel didn't notice, taking the opportunity to rally the group with a spirited cry:

"Did you see that?"

"The Wild Hunt that destroyed Ban Ard, that ravaged our homeland, and dragged the name of Ban Ard into the mud—they've been gravely wounded by Headmaster Hen Gedymdeith's counterattack!"

"They are not the invincible disasters of legend, nor the envoys of false gods—they are merely some obscure and peculiar magical creatures…"

"We will defeat them, capture them, dissect them, and study them…"

"Imagine how much powerful magic, how many alchemical breakthroughs, how much honor and research funding such unique creatures could bring us!"

As a typical Ban Ard sorcerer, Miguel knew exactly how to appeal to his peers.

After seeing the Wild Hunt flee in disarray, their fearsome mystique shattered, the sorcerers' spirits surged.

No, not just that.

Perhaps due to the oppression of recent days, their enthusiasm bordered on fanaticism.

"I want a complete Wild Hunt corpse!"

"Entering the High Council of Sorcerers might be possible…"

"Earn it if you can…"

"Who wants to collaborate on a joint project?"

"This is a golden opportunity for the Radical Faction's rise. As expected of Lord Sunny."

Miguel nodded in satisfaction, raising his voice to shout, "Let's chase them down and reclaim what they stole!"

"Reclaim it!"

"Reclaim it!"

"Reclaim it!"

With sharp squeezes to their mounts, the meticulously selected warhorses neighed and charged after the spot where the Wild Hunt illusion had disappeared.

"Thud! Thud! Thud!"

Amid the pounding hoofbeats, Miguel tugged his reins, ready to join the chase. But he noticed Vilgefortz lingering, gazing thoughtfully at the ground instead of following.

Curious, he traced Vilgefortz's line of sight to find nothing but scattered mud and broken branches.

"What is it?" Miguel asked.

"Nothing," Vilgefortz replied, shaking off his thoughts.

"Then let's go. We'll still need your spells to guide us!"

Miguel clapped him on the shoulder before spurring his horse to race upriver along the Lixela.

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

Allen had to slow his pace.

Following the blood trail left by Tracing, he moved away from the Lixela River, entering a cavern, then emerging into a dense forest of indeterminate tree species.

The pale blue sky above was obscured by jagged black leaves, plunging the surroundings into darkness.

The witcher's low-light vision was of little use here.

He needed Cat's Eye to move swiftly through the forest.

But Cat's Eye potions were in limited supply, while the distance to the Wild Hunt remained unknown.

Each potion granted only five minutes of vision. Prolonging the effect through metabolic control might add a minute at most, and he only had four vials of Cat's Eye.

Not nearly enough.

As for making a temporary torch and lighting a fire?

A foolish idea.

Ambushing the Wild Hunt was one level of difficulty; being ambushed by them was an entirely different, far more perilous prospect.

Not to mention the constant risk of pursuit by the Ban Ard sorcerers behind him.

And as for seeking guidance from the Mother of Nature...

While the Mother was kind enough to direct her child, it was meaningless; she could reveal direction, but fate had already dictated his path.

What he lacked was the ability to pierce through darkness. On this, the Mother of Nature was powerless.

At least for now.

Thus, he could only slow his pace to avoid tripping over tree stumps, being scratched by sharp branches or leaves, or falling off a cliff.

In fact, as he transitioned from the moonlit Lixela River into the forest, he narrowly avoided a nasty fall.

This was the forest's punishment for intruders.

Despite some agitation, Allen wasn't overly concerned as he ventured deeper.

The two-legged blood trail not only didn't show signs of the Wild Hunt riding their void-walking skeletal horses but also staggered with unsteady steps, moving far slower than him.

As for the sorcerers behind him...

Truthfully, he doubted they possessed a tracking spell stronger than Tracing.

And besides...

For frail mages to navigate this rugged wilderness? They couldn't possibly match a master witcher.

At least...

In his current, slowed state, this was the thought he used to console himself.

After all, he couldn't resist the lure of a destiny-marked object, nor the chance to extract intelligence on the Wild Hunt and the White Frost.

He'd been walking for a long time.

Following the blood trail, he ventured into the deepest, most impenetrable darkness. He moved steadily forward, but he had no idea how far he'd gone or how much farther he had to go.

The blood trail glowed faintly but revealed no details of the ground's texture. It extended forward into the blackness.

Sometimes, staring at this glowing trail leading into the dark, he walked numbly forward, feeling as though he was heading toward an abyss—like fate and the Wild Hunt had conspired to set a trap for him.

Until, at a certain moment...

He climbed a muddy slope exuding a faint scent of decaying vegetation.

Flickering orange lights appeared in the dense, blue-black forest ahead.

No ordinary humans would start a fire in such a remote place.

The witcher activated Night·Shade, held his breath, and moved cautiously forward.

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)

369. The First Battle with the Wild Hunt.

370. A Grand Welcome Ceremony for the Sorcerers from Afar.

371. Fireball to Destroy the World.

372. The Burning Skeleton Knight.

373. The King of the Wild Hunt—Eredin.