A dark, dense mass of sorcerers approached the New City.
Merchants, travelers, and commoners in line all hurriedly scattered, like a heavy black storm cloud driving away those without umbrellas.
On the city wall, the pace of the workers' repairs instantly sped up severalfold — as did the frequency of the overseers' whip strikes.
Aside from that, there was only silence.
"De… Dean…" A panting man in a green robe — one of the gate guards — came running up.
He glanced briefly at Ortolan, the silver-haired old mage beside Sunny, hesitated for a barely perceptible instant, then finally stopped before Sunny.
Sunny noticed his hesitation. His expression, already dark, grew even gloomier.
But he knew which matters took priority at this moment.
After casting a quick glance at Ortolan — who was still curiously examining the construction of the New City and chatting with the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization's mages about what defensive weapons should be mounted on the walls to resist the Wild Hunt — Sunny asked coldly:"Any suspicious people entering the city?"
"Suspicious people?" The green-robed mage blinked in confusion. He exchanged looks with several other gatekeepers who had just arrived, then cautiously asked, "Could you specify what kind of suspicious?"
Refugees, merchants, spies, mercenaries, commoners…
Inside and outside the New City of Ban Ard, there were suspicious people everywhere.
Even Sunny found the question troublesome.
The Wild Hunt's attire was too distinct — impossible to mistake.
If the gate guards hadn't reported anything unusual and were still calmly maintaining the entry order, then there were only two possibilities:
Either the Wild Hunt had not come to Ban Ard at all — or it had, but in disguise, or perhaps it had entered through another way.
Sunny turned to Ortolan.
Ortolan, frowning beneath his pale brows, stopped discussing city defenses.
He was silent for a few seconds, then looked toward the black-robed mage of the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization beside him.
The black-robed mage stepped forward knowingly, meeting the gaze of the green-robed guard. The latter's shallow mental defenses were no match for a master specializing in mind spells.
"He's not lying," the black-robed mage said after a moment, shaking his head. "Nor has he been influenced by illusion or charm."
Ortolan sighed softly, unfastened a silken pouch from his belt, and poured out all — in truth, only a few — red crystalline grains the size of sand.
After a short incantation, the crimson grains rose into the air without wind and formed a single glowing red thread — one end wrapped around Ortolan's casting hand, the other pointing toward the New City of Ban Ard.
Ortolan moved sideways in silence. The red line shifted slightly but continued to point toward Ban Ard.
But before he could move far, the red thread began to fade — then completely vanished, leaving not even a trace.
For a long moment, silence hung over the gate.
The green-robed guards exchanged uncertain glances. None could make sense of the legendary mage Ortolan's strange behavior — but the one who had been subject to the mind-reading spell began to feel a creeping dread.
They might have let someone important slip into Ban Ard.
"Let's go."
Ortolan frowned and cast a brief glance at Sunny, then gestured for the Rissberg mages to follow.
Together, they walked into Ban Ard through the parting crowds of terrified refugees, merchants, and mercenaries.
"Dean Sunny…" one of the green-robed mages asked nervously, "what happened?"
Sunny's face darkened. He shook his head and ordered curtly, "Close Ban Ard's gates. Seal all exits and entrances."
"What about these people?" another green-robed mage asked instinctively.
Sunny's eyes turned cold. He cast a sidelong glance at the trembling queues nearby and glared at the speaker.
"Did you not understand what I just said?"
The mages beside the speaker realized his mistake and quickly nudged him with an elbow. One of them turned back toward the gate and shouted: "Thieves in the city! Lock down the gates!"
For an instant, silence hung over the gate — then, like boiling water, chaos erupted among the crowds.
Sunny ignored the noise, his expression unreadable as he strode toward the city.
Why would a Wild Hunt appear in his Ban Ard?
Nearly a hundred of its kin had hovered over Kaedwen for half a year — yet they never struck, merely annihilated the Aedirnian army stationed there.
What were they searching for?
What could be hidden in Ban Ard that was worth the attention of a Wild Hunt — a creature that held the key to controlling the conjunction of the spheres?
-----------------------------------
Sunny's thoughts raced wildly, and his footsteps gradually slowed.
By the time he stepped through Ban Ard's gate and into the shadow beneath the archway, he came to a complete stop.
"I must capture that Wild Hunt," he muttered to himself, "and I must do it before Ortolan and the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization. With control of the Conjunction of the Spheres, even Ortolan would have to show me respect. But…"
His eyes narrowed. "But how do I catch that slippery rat?"
As he pondered, a figure suddenly came to mind.
He froze for a moment, then quickly turned to the mage beside him.
"Have Shaquiel and Valeriu returned yet?"
Valeriu didn't matter much — but Shaquiel did.
He was a true master of tracking and divination, even Hen Gedymdeith relied on him frequently. In those arts, he far surpassed the mages of the Rissberg Consortium — even Ortolan himself.
Yesterday, the two of them had been sent to Kaer Morhen to deliver some surprises to the Wolf School.
Of course, the mission didn't necessarily require Shaquiel and Valeriu.
But in recent months, though Shaquiel had maintained his polite attitude, he was, after all, Hen Gedymdeith's man.
Competent, yes — but never entrusted with anything of true importance. That made him one of the most idle high-ranking sorcerers in all of Ban Ard, perhaps the most idle.
Sending him to Kaer Morhen was just convenient.
Now that dawn had broken, they should have returned long ago.
The mage following closely behind Sunny hesitated, then nodded and went to ask the gate guards.
A few minutes later, he returned and shook his head.
"They still haven't come back?" Sunny's heart sank.
"Could it be they returned but didn't register at this gate?" the mage ventured cautiously. "Most mages don't really like following such strict procedures… When I return to Ban Ard, I also—"
"No," Sunny cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Shaquiel is a cautious and steady man. He would follow every rule precisely. He'd never leave any loose ends."
Sunny stepped out from the gatehouse.
The morning sun rose above the lower city, gilding the academy's high towers with gold.
The warm sunlight bathed him — yet he felt no warmth at all.
The plan to eradicate the Free Elves had failed, the sudden appearance of the Wild Hunt and the Conjunction of the Spheres, Malachi's betrayal, Shaquiel's absence…
One unforeseen event after another was shattering his carefully maintained order, and a deep unease began to stir within him.
It felt as if something very important was being taken from him…
And a sorcerer's intuition was rarely wrong.
"Miguel," Sunny said darkly, "find people and search every person in Ban Ard."
Miguel glanced at the filthy refugees huddled beside the gutter, watching them with fearful eyes, and froze. "Every person?"
"I said every person!" Sunny snarled.
Miguel immediately realized Sunny wasn't joking. He opened his mouth to protest but, under the weight of Sunny's glare, swallowed his words and nodded stiffly before hurrying off.
Sunny watched him disappear into the streets, then slowly lifted his gaze to the towers above, squinting at the blazing morning sun crowning the spires.
"My most important thing…" he murmured. "What could it be?"
-----------------------------------
"ROAR!"
The furious bellow made the very ground tremble.
From the darkness loomed a massive, towering beast. It swung its hammer-like fists and smashed down toward a figure holding a sword.
The swordsman leapt aside, pivoting sharply on one foot.
The creature's colossal fist brushed past him and slammed into the earth, carving out a deep crater.
The ground shuddered again as dust and gravel exploded outward.
But the fight wasn't over. As the monster's arm hit the ground, the swordsman twisted mid-turn and brought his blade down in a single fluid motion.
A flash of icy blue light sliced through the darkness — cutting clean into the monster's stony arm. The blade sank in deep, like a hot knife through molten wax, and split the limb clean in two.
The sword-wielder hadn't expected it to be that easy — he froze for a moment.
But then, as the monster's roar shook the ceiling, sending dust cascading down, he came back to his senses. Using the fallen stone arm as a foothold, he leapt upward.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
His boots struck rapidly, stepping along the creature's massive shoulder, racing straight toward its head.
The monster felt no fear. Its remaining fist swung down in a blur, the air howling with the force.
But beneath the silver blade glowing with faint blue light, everything in its path was sliced apart — shattered stone rained down like a storm.
Before the creature could launch another attack with its ruined body, the swordsman was already standing proudly on its broad shoulder.
His cat-like blue pupils narrowed into slits.
In a single motion, he drew a circular arc in the air with his sword, then gripped it with both hands and drove the blade straight down into the seam between the creature's head and torso.
A crackling hum followed.
The monster's body trembled violently, as if struck by lightning — then collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Boom!
Dust filled the chamber.
Ding!
[Monster "Golem" defeated!]
[Reward calculation: …]
The swordsman glanced upward, ignoring the constant chiming of the system's notifications. He was just about to twirl his sword and sheathe it when the motion froze midway.
Clap… Clap… Clap…
A slow applause echoed from the far end of the corridor.
"As expected of the Miracle Child."
"For the first time, I had to stop chanting mid-spell — not because of an enemy, but because of my ally."
Vilgefortz stepped out from the shadows, admiration written across his face. He glanced from Allen's calm expression to the heap of shattered stone on the ground.
"This was the pride of the Rissberg Civil Cooperation Organization — their prized golem!"
"I thought this would be a hard-fought battle that'd push us both to the limit. Yet you handled it alone, effortlessly."
He nodded toward the silver sword still gleaming faintly blue.
"So this is that rumored sword oil — part of your alchemical system?"
Allen gave a small nod. "An oil for enhanced construct slaying. I've fought a golem before, so I came prepared."
Vilgefortz crouched, examining the perfectly smooth cut along the golem's arm, and couldn't help but marvel.
"Then your preparation was very thorough."
"If the Rissberg people knew their most expensive product could be undone by a single potion, they'd go mad and start killing witnesses."
With his keen eyes, he could tell that although Allen's strength played a large part in the victory, the enchanted oil had been crucial as well.
In fact, Vilgefortz thought that if one didn't care for speed, a few trained knights with such oil could probably bring down a golem too.
Allen rolled his eyes. "And what we're doing now won't make them want to kill us?"
"That's different," Vilgefortz replied, shaking his head as he rose. "Rissberg doesn't care much about Hen Gedymdeith, but if someone exposes a fatal flaw in their golems, every Rissberg mage will lose their minds."
"Officially, they call themselves a sorcerers' organization — but in truth, they're more of a merchant guild."
"What they value most… is profit."
As he spoke, Vilgefortz murmured a spell.
Thunder cracked. A few flashes of light followed, and in moments, the remains of the golem disintegrated — every limb shattered by lightning, the clean cuts ruined beyond recognition.
"So, it's best to tidy up afterward."
Vilgefortz caught his breath and flashed Allen a sincere, dependable smile.
"Seems the self-appointed replacement for Philippa Eilhart is good for something after all — cleaning up after the Miracle Child."
Of course, it was a joke.
Putting aside the prejudice carried over from Allen's past-life knowledge, Vilgefortz was by far the best partner he'd ever worked with.
A warrior and a mage — their skills complemented each other perfectly.
Vilgefortz always noticed the smallest details others overlooked, solving problems before they grew troublesome.
They had navigated countless traps without issue.
Before each battle, he would even cast a sound barrier and a soft-stone spell to dampen noise — the latter was a spell Allen had never even heard of.
Frankly speaking, Vilgefortz felt like an extension of his own hands.
Even Vesemir couldn't compare — let alone a certain reckless fool.
Along the journey, Allen often thought: having someone like Vilgefortz as a subordinate wouldn't be so bad.
Vilgefortz coveted his title as the Miracle Child, but the "Miracle Child" wasn't like Elder Blood — it wasn't something that could be stolen or transferred.
It wasn't as if Vilgefortz could pry away the Witcher Journal from him.
So really, what was there to worry about?
..........
📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
1. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.
2. 30 advanced chapters of What year is this? You're still writing a traditional diary?.