Malachi's gaze pierced through the dark-red crystal membrane and locked with Allen's eyes.
Allen didn't avert his gaze — he met it directly.
Perhaps the sorcerer's senses were sharp enough to notice something strange.
But so what?
Nearly a hundred skeletal riders of the Wild Hunt circled above the withered forest — would Malachi throw away his composure and charge forward just because of a minor anomaly, destroying his puppet in the process?
And even if the man truly lost all reason, Allen wouldn't be afraid.
A puppet was just a puppet. Even if the sorcerer somehow managed to destroy it, he wouldn't find Allen's trail.
And outside the cave, there were plenty of corpses — if one zombie was gone, he could always control another.
As expected…
Malachi only frowned slightly before turning his head toward the sky.
Then, a silver-white flash tore through the darkness — and a deafening explosion followed, sending up clouds of dust that completely obscured the crystal's view.
"Boom!"
The violent blast made the crimson crystal membrane flicker erratically, just like a television screen losing signal.
In the blink of an eye, even the cave where the Witcher was hiding began to shake and tremble.
Dust and pebbles rained down from above — it felt like being inside a trench under relentless bombardment.
Allen had no choice but to maintain the Quen Sign, forming a golden spherical shield to block the falling debris.
Of course, compared to what he had faced just a few minutes ago, this was nothing — like the difference between heaven and earth.
Fate was always unpredictable.
He had thought that during the last battle in the Forest of Passolon, when the Wild Hunt and Ban Ard clashed and he reaped the rewards from the sidelines, it would be a once-in-a-lifetime stroke of fortune.
Yet only a few months later, near the same region — in an unnamed valley close to the Passolon Forest — he once again found himself witnessing another confrontation between the Wild Hunt and the sorcerer.
And once again, he might be able to profit from it.
Last time, he had to get directly involved, staying dangerously close to the battlefield, and suffered heavy injuries as a result.
But today, he stood safely at the edge of the Withered Woods, watching his two mortal enemies tear each other apart — as if watching a grand play unfold.
"Good thing I brought the Eye of True Knowledge and the Ritual Eye before leaving."
Allen looked at the crimson crystal membrane before him — the image still murky, filled with swirling smoke and dust — and couldn't help but sigh with satisfaction.
What he was witnessing now could be called the pinnacle of his ritual mastery — the ultimate combination of the three rites he had obtained: Ritual Eye Cultivation, Flesh Synchronization, and Eye of True Knowledge.
Ritual Eye Cultivation — the process of refining an eyeball through ritual to create a Ritual Eye — was the foundation.
It served as both the core material and the main source of power for all eye-related rituals.
The Eye of True Knowledge — created by refining a Ritual Eye through a further ritual — allowed one to perceive from another Eye of True Knowledge across a great distance, with no trace of magical or mental fluctuation detectable.
Through Flesh Synchronization, he could fuse a Eye of True Knowledge into the head of a zombie, turning it into one of its own eyes — allowing Allen to observe the battlefield remotely from a safe cave miles away.
However, Flesh Synchronization only linked the Eye of True Knowledge to the zombie's body — it didn't allow him to control the creature's actions.
To make the zombie obediently walk into the battlefield's core, Allen used the Witcher's Sign of Axii to dominate its mind.
And the success of this elaborate setup had depended on countless coincidences. For instance — Allen had just happened to bring along his Ritual Eyes and Eye of True Knowledges.
He hadn't expected them to be useful for this rescue mission, but he'd still taken them out of his reagent pouch — along with a vial of White Honey (which nullifies toxicity and removes potion effects).
His original plan had been to use the Eye of True Knowledge later, after rescuing the free elf, to observe Ban Ard's condition — since he was already there, he thought, he might as well "plant an eye" nearby.
It wasn't essential, but that one bottle of White Honey, which neutralized toxins and potion effects, was extremely valuable in unpredictable battlefields.
For example—
When scouting for the sorcerer, he had drunk Cat's Eye (which grants vision in total darkness and boosts critical precision) to move unseen.
But if he unexpectedly encountered combat, he could purge the effect with White Honey and instead take Blizzard (which slows time in danger), Alghoul Decoction (which greatly boosts adrenaline generation until hit), and Maribor Forest (which accelerates adrenaline regeneration), to enter his peak combat state.
At this moment, a bottle of White Honey became absolutely indispensable.
Allen had hesitated for quite some time before making that decision back then.
Moreover, the battlefield's environment happened to be perfectly suited for the use of Flesh Synchronization and the Eye of True Knowledge.
The Withered Woods were filled with undead controlled by the enemy.
If the Wild Hunt hadn't suddenly appeared to stir up chaos and draw the sorcerers' attention, Allen would never have had the chance to employ those two rituals at all.
The zombie controlled by Axii would have been discovered by the mages almost immediately.
And if the necromancer hadn't ordered the undead to remain perfectly still, a wandering zombie would have served no purpose for him.
Not to mention—just when he was about to be discovered by the mages, his desperate release of the conjunction of the spheres ritual unexpectedly drew in the Wild Hunt.
And right when the Wild Hunt was about to notice him, the mages suddenly launched their own attack.
To have all these factors align was beyond rare.
If this wasn't the favor of fate itself, then what was?
The smoke within the crystal membrane gradually cleared, revealing the massive cavern where the sorcerers of Ban Ard had been stationed — now nearly razed to the ground.
"Nearly," because it wasn't that the Wild Hunt's power was lacking, but that the cavern had been blasted apart — the land split open into countless intersecting ravines.
At the center, beneath a half-spherical blue magical barrier, the site looked almost like the hollowed crater of a dead volcano.
Even Allen couldn't help but be astonished by the sheer destructive force of the Wild Hunt's sword energy.
The next second—
Before the Wild Hunt could launch its next strike, the blue barrier trembled slightly. Then, dust around the area surged upward — in an instant, the wind gathered into a roaring, explosive tornado that shot straight into the sky, toward the Wild Hunt.
Seeing this, Allen's eyes lit up.
The Wild Hunt was already overwhelmingly strong — and fighting from above, they naturally gained an advantage. Any spell cast from that height would gain extra power from gravity's pull.
How to drag them down from the heavens — that was a problem every enemy of the Wild Hunt had to face.
Since Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky had not yet been unlocked, and its effects remained unknown, Allen was intrigued by any possible method.
The raging storm that tore across the sky seemed like a promising choice.
After all, Mary had once absorbed the spirit of Ronnie Dickinson, an air-element sorcerer, which granted her control over fierce gales.
Unfortunately…
When the sand and wind stirred by the tornado finally settled, and the view became clear once more, the Wild Hunt still stood motionless in the sky — completely unaffected.
Even from a great distance, Allen could feel the despair of the Ban Ard mages as if it were his own.
However, he soon noticed something strange — while the Wild Hunt's attacks were immensely destructive, there was an odd sense of order to them.
It was as though both sides were taking turns — one strike from the Wild Hunt, followed by a counter from the mages — a rhythm so regular it reminded Allen of the primitive wars from the Spring and Autumn period of his previous world.
Back then, wars lacked strategy or deception — no "flanking maneuvers" or "surprise ambushes." Armies would announce their intent to battle, agree on the number of warriors, and meet in open fields for an honorable fight where the victor simply claimed everything from the defeated.
And now, the Wild Hunt was doing exactly that.
With such overwhelming power, they could have annihilated their enemies like plowing through dry leaves — yet instead, they were taking turns, playing some kind of turn-based game.
Allen admitted that this sort of slow, methodical oppression could crush the enemy's will — defeating them without a true fight. But the gap in strength was far too great for such theatrics to be necessary.
And these were the Wild Hunt, conquerors of worlds, slaughterers of countless beings — how could their fighting style be so… archaic?
Why were they doing this?
Was it the commander's quirk?
Or perhaps some hidden flaw — a limitation that forced them to fight this way?
"Boom—!"
The exchange continued, slow but devastating.
Each attack and counterstrike carried terrifying power, turning the vast Withered Woods into a scene of utter ruin.
Trees were shattered, flames scorched the earth, and blinding lightning split open solid rock, carving deep trenches across the ground.
The undead caught in the crossfire were blown apart, leaving fragments of corpses scattered everywhere. Allen was forced to repeatedly use Flesh Synchronization, channeling the lingering echo of the Axii Sign to maintain control over his puppet zombie.
Even though the battle had taken on a "turn-based" rhythm, the Ban Ard mages were still being utterly crushed.
And yet, no matter how many times their magical barrier was shattered, it always reformed almost instantly — far more resilient than Allen had expected.
Allen couldn't help but feel a bit puzzled.
Vilgefortz had made it quite clear before — the mages participating in the war against the Wild Hunt weren't Ban Ard's main force, but merely a group of lesser Sorcerers from the outskirts.
He had assumed that such grand necromancy would already be the limit of their abilities — yet to his surprise, they were actually fighting the Wild Hunt to a standstill.
Allen knew very well what kind of power the first wave of the Wild Hunt that descended upon the Northern Continent possessed.
If the mages of Ban Ard had been this strong back then, when the skeletal knights first struck, how could they have suffered such a devastating defeat — an entire city razed to the ground, leaving behind only the lonely, isolated academy?
"Ban Ard found a way to fight back against the Wild Hunt in just half a year?" Allen frowned, murmuring under his breath.
That must be it.
After all, Ban Ard was not only the mightiest magical force in the Northern Continent but also one of the strongest in the entire Witcher world.
Allen might doubt the morality of Ban Ard's Sorcerers, but he would never question their skill.
Though Hen Gedymdeith was gone, another of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art's top five — Ortolan — had joined Ban Ard.
That meant, at least in terms of power and intellect at the highest level, Ban Ard now was not far behind the Ban Ard of Hen Gedymdeith's time.
And with the addition of the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, Ban Ard's mid- and lower-tier strength might even surpass what it once was.
Of course, this was a good thing — at least until they succeeded in rescuing Hen Gedymdeith.
The entire Northern Continent was relying on Ban Ard to hold the Wild Hunt's wrath at bay. Even Aedirn, who least wanted to see a kingdom of mages arise, hoped for the same.
In fact, no other power had more reason to hope for Ban Ard's success than Aedirn, whose armies had been devastated by the Wild Hunt.
As for what would happen after Hen Gedymdeith was rescued — how the future King of Sorcerers would deal with a scheming, power-hungry Ortolan and the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization — that was not anyone else's concern.
"Wait…"
Allen stared at the crystal membrane displaying the apocalyptic battle, suddenly realizing he'd overlooked something important.
All the other powers of the Northern Continent were praying that Ban Ard could withstand the Wild Hunt. But… what did Ban Ard themselves think?
Allen tapped the faintly crimson crystal with his finger.
"They're definitely not giving up…"
After their city's destruction and Hen Gedymdeith's downfall, Ban Ard still had the audacity to send Sorcerers to hunt the Wild Hunt itself.
After their crushing losses in Passolon Forest, after receiving a soul duel challenge from the King of the Wild Hunt, Eredin Bréacc Glas, swearing to reincarnate twice if defeated — they didn't retreat. Instead, they relocated the academy and began reaching out to the northern kingdoms, rebuilding Ban Ard from the ashes.
Even when the Wild Hunt annihilated Aedirn's army invading Kaedwen, Ban Ard dared to send troops to exterminate the Free Elves while skeletal knights circled above Kaedwen's skies.
Ban Ard wasn't just unafraid — they were acting as if the Wild Hunt didn't even matter.
"That's it," Allen muttered to himself. "All this time, I've been thinking that the Wild Hunt is terrifying, unbeatable — so I assumed everyone else must think the same."
"But I know who they really are — the Aen Elle, the Alder Folk who conquered countless worlds. Of course they deserve fear."
"Yet to the rest of the Northern Continent, the Wild Hunt is just another disaster — no worse than the Black Death, the Specter Plague, or the monster tides."
"To Ban Ard, the Wild Hunt can die — even if that 'death' means returning to Tir na Lia by triggering their resurrection armor. Hen Gedymdeith's spell truly made most of them vanish."
"To the Rissberg Group and Ortolan, such beings would not inspire fear. They would inspire curiosity."
"They'd want to capture them, dissect them, uncover the truth of what they are."
"To them, the Wild Hunt is an even better opportunity than the Free Elves — a chance to prove their power and establish the foundation of their new kingdom. After all, the Hunt nearly destroyed Temeria's Ellander and slaughtered much of Aedirn's army. Their weight as a symbol far surpasses that of the Free Elves."
So the real question was—
What could Allen do with this knowledge gap?
"Boom!"
A violent explosion shook the cave once more, jolting the Witcher awake.
When he instinctively channeled the magic within his body, his thumb and forefinger curved slightly, tracing a triangle in the air before him to once again summon the Quen Shield—to block the falling smoke and debris from the sky—his hand suddenly froze mid-motion.
"Hmm?!!"
Allen gasped instinctively, his eyes locked onto the dark-red crystal membrane.
That grand explosion wasn't from the Wild Hunt, nor from the Sorcerers struggling desperately within the magical barrier—or at least, not from the same Sorcerers as before.
Inside the crystal membrane, countless figures in black robes embroidered with starlight patterns were walking forward. Among them… was Sunny.
But—
But!
Sunny was not the highest-ranking among them.
He stood respectfully behind an elderly man holding a staff, with a face lined with age, white hair, and a long, silvery beard.
Even though Allen had never met the man before, he instantly knew there could only be one person who fit that description—
The head of the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, the Supreme Council Leader of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, one of the Five of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, and the Sorcerer who stood at the very peak of power and authority across the Northern Continent—
Ortolan!
Then, another thought suddenly burst into Allen's mind— and the moment it appeared, it was like alcohol catching a spark, igniting into a blazing inferno that set his entire sea of thoughts alight.
His gaze darted past Ortolan and Sunny, frantically searching behind them. His heart pounded harder and harder, until it roared in his chest like the beating of war drums.
Ortolan… Sunny… and so many high-ranking Sorcerers were all gathered here…
Then what about Ban Ard?
Who else… could still be there in Ban Ard?
......
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