278. White Light and Frost.
"Hiss—Ah—"
The unknown monster arched back and howled in pain, its sharp cry almost piercing the eardrums. Almost at the same time, the giant foot in front of the Witcher, glowing green, trembled slightly as if it weighed nothing, lifting quickly, intending to flee.
But how could Allen let it escape?
With a "buzz," the blue glow in the Witcher's eyes suddenly brightened.
In an instant, the sound of the wind and the howling stopped.
The green foot lifting in front of the Witcher seemed to freeze in place, rising from the ground at a snail's pace, almost centimeter by centimeter.
Countless brown dust particles followed, rising into the air.
In the midst of the blizzard, every moment was precious.
Yet the emotionless Witcher, in his hunting mode, still cast a heated glance at the seemingly "ordinary" steel sword in his hand—Balmur.
One strike, 69%?
Staring at the exaggerated number in the corner of his eye, even the Witcher couldn't help but think of countless elegant and civilized hometown words to express his shock and joy. He had expected Balmur to be strong, but not this strong.
A ten percent increase in his hunting progress with a single strike had been his highest expectation. After all, the sword still appeared to be made of steel, and the Witcher hadn't even applied Specter Oil.
But 69%...
This was a large monster!
At this moment, the Witcher even considered drawing his other sword, Elsa, which was already coated with Specter Oil, for comparison. But then, he remembered the human-like tremor of Balmur resting against his back. Worried she might get "jealous" and cause trouble, he decided against it.
"Better to finish off the monster quickly and get back to hunting the Wraith Horde..." Allen suppressed his excitement.
"Buzz~"
Balmur trembled slightly, as if in response, or perhaps in a rush. It was as if she hadn't cut down anything worthy in ages, making her itch with anticipation. The Witcher smiled gently and tightened his grip on the somewhat rough sword handle.
"Don't rush, I'm on it..." he whispered softly.
But whether it was coincidence or not, Balmur actually stopped trembling.
The Witcher paused in surprise. Then he wasted no more time. The pale blue light in his cat-like eyes suddenly expanded.
In the next moment, Allen leapt into the air.
A small patch of grass and soil splashed up from the ground, falling slowly behind him.
Balmur's cold, gleaming blade cut a semi-circle through the air, as the Witcher used the momentum to twist his body. His left and right feet switched positions quickly, and he advanced another step.
The sharp sword in his hand gleamed, the ghostly blue flames in his eyes flickered, and through gritted teeth, he let out a low growl.
"Hah!"
Spinning Slash!
The blade reflected the light of the moon. A beautiful silver arc appeared, silently slicing into the monster's green, grotesque foot.
Entering from the left, exiting from the right.
The Witcher immediately disengaged from his blizzard mode.
"Ree~"
The explosive sound of the blade slicing through the air only now rang out.
"Bang!" A loud explosion followed.
The spot where the Witcher's blade struck was not far from the first slash. The newly cut cavity connected closely to the original one, the two massive wounds forming one.
At this moment, the giant foot of the unknown monster was held together by just a thin layer of skin.
Fur, skin, blood vessels, muscles, bones...
With one glance, one could see all the internal structures.
Perhaps due to the nature of the Wraith, even though everything looked gory, there wasn't a single drop of blood, nor a shred of flesh that fell. It was as if everything had been obliterated into nothingness.
That foot, now held by only a thin layer of skin, larger than the Witcher himself, didn't fall but floated in the air like a weightless foam appendage.
Heavy yet light at the same time.
It was both strange and disgusting.
"Hiss—Ah—"
Following the monster's sharp, enraged roar came a massive hand, covering the moon and the sky. But the Witcher, standing in the shadow of this huge hand, didn't seem to care.
"Ding! [Monster Hunt] progress: 100%."
Unlike before, after entering the final execution stage of the [Monster Hunt], there wasn't a single red mark on the monster's body in the Witcher's vision.
Instead, the brightly illuminated footprints were scattered on the ground. They twisted and coiled around the monster, resembling a blood-red snake, hissing maliciously, ready to strike.
"Hiss~"
The Witcher sidestepped along the red footprints. The monster's massive green hand, roaring with the wind, grazed his body and slammed into the ground.
"Boom~"
As the ground trembled and dust erupted, a nearby campfire flared up, sending sparks flying. The sudden influx of oxygen made the fire burn brighter, illuminating the Witcher's elegant stance, sword in hand.
"Hiss—Ah—"
However, this seemed to further enrage the large monster.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Both of its massive hands smashed down at the Witcher's head repeatedly, but each time he dodged with perfect timing. Instead, the ground's dust swirled into the air, clouding the monster's vision.
"Hiss—"
The monster roared in fury.
Its sharp, ear-piercing screech echoed across the open field.
Upon hearing the screech, distant Wraiths suddenly turned and rushed toward the unknown monster's location. They were now moving in a ghostly manner, their speed three times faster than when they had charged toward Ellander.
This shocked the guards, the Hunting Army, and Mary, who were closely monitoring the Wraith Horde.
Although due to the distance, they could only occasionally see a small black figure appearing near the campfire, Vesemir had just set out, and his warhorse had not fully recovered its energy, so they hadn't galloped far. Clearly, the Wraith Horde's target wasn't the large monster; it could only be the other master Witcher—Allen.
And with the speed of the Wraith Horde, it wouldn't take long for them to converge with that terrifying one-eyed creature.
At that point, the Witcher, who was fighting the large monster alone and unable to retreat...
Would be dead for sure!
"Allen!" Mary screamed in terror, completely forgetting about Vera beside her.
Suddenly remembering something, she stumbled toward a nearby horse and clumsily mounted it.
She didn't care whether the spells she knew would be useful, nor did she care about her own safety. She didn't even mind the excruciating pain or the risk of self-immolation from casting unfamiliar spells on a bumpy horseback ride...
"Aenye... muire... Aen…"
Amid the sound of hooves, mysterious incantations escaped her lips, accompanied by intense pain. The girl endured the burning pain in her stomach, with only one thought in her mind.
She was going to save Allen!
To save her always-frowning May Festival King!
Meanwhile.
The officer of the Hunting Army, Sara, who had been stunned by the sudden appearance of the monster and the rapidly retreating Wraith Horde, snapped back to attention upon hearing Mary's scream.
"Where did this damn monster come from?" he cursed, and without hesitation, loudly ordered the Monster Hunting Army: "Monster Hunting Army!"
"Charge!"
"Stop those damn monsters and protect our May Festival King of Ellander!"
"Charge!" The soldiers of the Hunting Army roared, veins bulging from their foreheads.
Teams of five charged at the Wraith Horde.
The royal guards charged as well. Though they didn't know what they could do without Specter Oil...
But even the fear of Wraith etched in their hearts wouldn't allow them to stand by and watch as a child was besieged by monsters and died right before their eyes.
Even if that child was much stronger than them.
Even if it meant sacrificing their own lives.
"Royal Guards!"
"Charge!"
Arthur gripped the warhorse beneath him tightly, roaring as he charged at the monsters.
"Ellander may be destined to become a dead city today, but at least let me die before Ellander falls..." he thought to himself.
In an instant.
With the roar of a monster, the entire massive battlefield, like a slumbering beast suddenly startled awake, began moving all at once.
Killing intent filled the air.
Only Vera dared not raise her head, still focusing on setting up the ritual, her lips barely moving: "Almost... almost... it's almost done..."
-----------------
The Witcher, immersed in following the footprints, heard the commotion, but he only glanced in the direction of the battlefield before continuing to follow the prints. Although there seemed to be some misunderstanding, the distant Witcher couldn't do much from where he stood.
He looked up at the furious, one-eyed monster waving its hand, and the sword in his hand, Balmur, trembled with excitement.
"Kill it!"
"As long as I kill it, everything will be solved!"
The Witcher thought.
He continued following the footprints, confidently dodging each of the monster's attacks. There weren't many footprints left. The sword felt more and more like an extension of his hand!
"Hiss—Roar—"
Each of the monster's attacks was narrowly avoided, always missing by just a hair, but never quite hitting the annoying flea.
This infuriated the one-eyed monster, which had inexplicably appeared in this suffocating world and had already been painfully slashed twice after mysteriously awakening from eternal slumber.
It was beyond furious.
It wanted to crush that bothersome flea with its sharp teeth.
Ghosts generally lack intelligence.
This large monster seemed to have a little, but clearly not much.
"Boom!"
Another slap missed, raising only dust. The one-eyed monster was so enraged that green light shot from its eye. Whatever thought crossed its mind, it acted on it. Its large, tooth-filled mouth opened wide, and it lunged toward the flea's direction.
Closer... closer...
Now!
The monster, with its green eye wide open, snapped its jaws shut.
"Crunch!"
A loud sound echoed. But after feeling around inside its mouth, it realized...
There was only dirt and sand.
"Where did that flea go?" The one-eyed monster was extremely agitated.
But the next second...
"Shush-shush-shush~"
The faint sound of footsteps approached, for some reason calming its frenzied "heart."
Dust swirled and settled.
Two azure-blue lights gradually became clear through the dark, hazy surroundings. It was a "person"...
The thought suddenly popped into the one-eyed monster's mind, though it no longer remembered what "person" meant.
With the thought came a bone-chilling feeling that made it tremble all over. This feeling was familiar, something it had felt before. Just as it strained its mind to recall where its hollow "heart" had encountered such a sensation...
The flea suddenly vanished.
In an instant.
"Shh"—a soft sound.
It suddenly felt "heat."
Molten lava surged through its body, corroding its bones, flesh, and blood...
As the searing heat reached its brain, it once again saw that flea and those eyes glowing with azure light.
Suddenly.
It remembered.
Death!
That terrifying, icy feeling that made it shiver—it was death!
"Allen!"
A voice called out urgently from afar, interrupting the one-eyed monster's thoughts.
The one-eyed monster froze.
It stared at the "person" before it, feeling the intense heat swiftly corroding its entire being. And then it realized—it was about to return to eternal slumber.
True eternal slumber.
In the next moment.
The one-eyed monster used the last of its strength to suppress the arrival of death, then let out a desperate roar: "Hiss—Roar—Hiss—Roar—"
Then.
As its wails gradually weakened and faded into the wind.
It desperately screamed in its mind, hoping that the living being before it, once brimming with vitality just like them, would be prepared...
Prepared to face the white light...
And frost...
----------------------
"Da-da-da~"
The sound of rapidly galloping hooves echoed as Vesemir anxiously looked at the distant battlefield, where gray dust still hung in the air.
A few seconds earlier.
Since the tall monster had lunged at the ground. There had been no movement for quite some time.
"Please, be okay!"
"Please, don't let anything happen!"
Vesemir clenched his teeth and pressed his legs tightly against the horse's sides, willing it to move faster and faster. But in the end, all he got was the horse's painful, mournful neigh.
The pace slowed even more.
In desperation, the Witcher dismounted, running with speed that nearly matched the warhorse's, paying no heed to the scattered wraiths as he sprinted toward the cloud of dust.
Any wraith that dared attack him—slashed!
Any that materialized before him—slashed!
Any that blocked his path—slashed! Slashed! Slashed!
He didn't know how many wraiths he had cut down, but Vesemir finally arrived near the edge of the dust cloud, where the greenish silhouette of the one-eyed wraith monster began to emerge.
But just then—
"Whoosh!"
The monster's massive body suddenly burst into a strange, dazzling green flame. The Witcher master instinctively halted his furious sprint.
"Allen!"
Vesemir, thinking it might be some kind of magical ability of the monster, felt a mix of relief that Allen was still alive, and concern as he shouted in alarm. As he was about to rush the monster's back for a righteous strike, he realized something was off.
The flames didn't seem to be magical in nature.
Rather, it was the monster's shell burning and disintegrating, just like when wraiths perished.
Vesemir hesitated, gradually slowing his pace.
The next second.
The green flames suddenly shifted to a scorching orange.
"Hiss—Roar—Hiss—Roar—"
The monster's strange, fluctuating cries echoed from within, prompting the Witcher master to tighten his grip on his silver sword. Then the monster vanished, the smoke descended.
In the flickering firelight, the Witcher, with disheveled hair, stood there, seemingly in a daze.
"Allen, are you alright?"
Vesemir, holding his silver sword, felt a bit more at ease, but still cautiously asked from a distance.
Wraith monsters often had strange, magical abilities—better safe than sorry.
"I'm... I'm fine." Allen looked up.
After scanning the area again and confirming Allen was truly okay, Vesemir sighed with relief, curiously asking: "Then why were you in a daze?"
Allen paused for a moment, uncertain: "That monster, in the end... it seemed... it seemed like it was trying to talk to me..."
Not another god, I hope... Vesemir frowned and asked with concern: "What did it say?"
The Witcher was silent for a long time.
"Hiss—Roar—Hiss—Roar—"
Vesemir tilted his head: "?"
....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
279. Please Make Way.
280. Settlement of the One-Eyed Wraith Extermination Rewards.
281. Ellander's Funeral.
282. A Commission of One Oren.
283. Divine Dreamwalking.