310. Lone Wolf's Death, Birth of the Pack.
"Crackle, crackle~"
The warmth of the burning fire illuminated the torch, filling the dimly lit fireplace with the faint scent of burning pine resin.
Hearing Vesemir's words, Allen was taken aback, feeling a comforting warmth settle in his heart, like having a bowl of hot porridge early in the morning. The dim golden cat-like pupils flickered in the torchlight, radiating a mix of disappointment and concern from their glow.
Allen nearly blurted everything out.
But… just nearly.
Allen shifted his gaze subtly, even as he heard Vesemir sigh softly.
Reality isn't like a passionate comic, where everything can be solved with effort, passion, friendship, family, and a protagonist's roaring willpower and sudden power surge.
The destruction of the School is a crisis they must face together, a man-made disaster that could still be resolved. So Allen would invent a "premonition" if he had to, to warn Vesemir, the head of the school, and everyone else involved…
To alert, to spur on, and to fully invest in resolving the crisis.
The appearance of the Wild Hunt was largely due to the otherworldly fusion in Ban Ard, a consequence of his own actions, but ultimately it was a side effect of finding a path for the School. So even though the Wild Hunt was targeting him, he wouldn't face it alone; he'd inform Vesemir and the School as soon as possible and work out a plan together.
This was only logical.
Although the Wild Hunt appeared powerful, seemingly unbeatable, Allen, with his abilities, wasn't entirely without options.
Temporarily reducing the frequency of the Conjunction of the Spheres, allowing Ban Ard, the land undergoing fusion, to confront the Wild Hunt in a dog-eat-dog battle…
Joining forces with the mysterious Volta family, finding the School of Viper, and Ivar Evil-Eye, who specialize in the Wild Hunt, and also seeking alliances with humans like Duke Mason of Ellander and the largest Northern religious sect, the Cult of Melitele…
Or even with the skill "Beast Roar: Berserk" he'd learned, the once virtually unassailable Wild Hunt, with its airborne advantage, could potentially be forced to fight on the ground…
Allen was confident that given enough time, defeating the Wild Hunt was nearly certain.
But the White Frost…
The White Frost was different.
It was the unstoppable natural phenomenon from his past life, an Ice Age.
It was the source of doom, feared by even the powerful gods, who were helpless before it.
Allen still didn't fully understand what it was. Even the mighty Melitele had endured centuries of torment and gained little useful information. The only clue was, ironically, from the Wild Hunt itself.
After learning "Beast Roar: Berserk," capturing a few arrogant Aen Elle might reveal more about the White Frost.
But…
The Wild Hunt itself was just a band of outcasts and slaves under the White Frost.
Even if they were defeated, how much useful information could he really get from them?
If they had a way to counter the White Frost, they wouldn't have ended up in their current situation.
He knew the limits of a witcher's power.
Whatever the White Frost truly was, it was an unstoppable natural disaster for the Wolf School. Sharing happy things with others doubles the happiness.Sharing sad things halves the sadness. But sharing things that cause fear only increases fear.
The first two might be true, but Allen, being a transmigrator, knew that the last one was undoubtedly true.
So…
Allen listened to the sighing disappointment beside him and shook his head, saying,
"Sorry, Master Vesemir, I just… can't say yet…"
He could make up some excuse, pretend the situation wasn't too serious, and brush it off.
But…
Looking at Vesemir's lowered eyes, for some reason, the perfunctory lie circled in his mind but refused to leave his lips.
In the end, he chose to tell the truth.
Vesemir looked at Allen in silence for a long while, observing, guessing…
What could be more despairing than rejection from a monarch or even the legendary embodiment of war and disaster, the Wild Hunt, to the point he wouldn't speak of it?
"When will you be able to tell me?" Vesemir finally sighed, asking softly.
Allen lowered his head, his right hand unconsciously tracing the wood grain of the oak table, "Let's deal with the nobles and mages threatening Kaer Morhen first…"
Vesemir nodded helplessly, not pressing further.
They had been together for six months now.
He had long known that this seemingly young child was actually terrifyingly mature, more decisive than even his teacher, Vesemir, who was several times his age.
So…
Since Allen didn't want to speak, Vesemir had no intention of forcing him.
But…
"Maybe it's because I'm not strong enough?"
Thinking of the battle on the training grounds just now, Vesemir couldn't help but have this thought.
Even Aristo couldn't defeat Allen anymore; Vesemir knew he wouldn't be able to, either.
"Just a week or two ago, he wasn't a match for potions, and now even Aristo isn't his opponent," Vesemir marveled, "Allen's strength is improving so fast!"
After a brief conversation, both witchers fell silent.
One watched the grain of the oak table in the flickering firelight; the other gazed into the unlit, darkened fireplace. It was hard to say what they were thinking.
And so it continued.
Until twilight set in, and the heavy, iron-clad castle door was opened once more.
"Tap, tap, tap~"
Heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance.
"So eager, Vesemir?" Lemon, with a blind eye, walked in and, seeing Vesemir, asked in surprise, "Are you already going to take those five bottles of wine?"
Vesemir's body trembled slightly at the sound, like he'd been snapped back to reality.
For some reason, despite winning five bottles of well-aged Eastem East from Aristo, Vesemir wasn't in the mood to savor his victory wine.
Hearing Lumen's teasing, he rubbed his face with his right hand, glanced at Allen, and chuckled dryly: "No, leave it for now…"
As Lumen, lighting the fireplace with an Igni Sign, hadn't noticed the tense atmosphere between Vesemir and Allen.
Hearing Vesemir's words, he nodded, looking at Allen with admiration: "I heard from Aristo – truly impressive…"
Allen looked up.
"Not many can make that stubborn mule Aristo admit defeat so willingly," Lumen remarked, clicking his tongue. "When I met him earlier, he kept muttering that Vesemir had gotten a great deal…"
At Lumen's praise, Allen shifted uncomfortably, modestly saying: "Master Aristo was probably going easy on me; otherwise, I wouldn't have lasted past the second round."
And it was true.
Aristo's second-round spinning slash was not only stylish but also powerful. If it hit, the Quen shield would undoubtedly shatter. If Aristo hadn't held back, he could have very well killed Allen in a single blow.
The mist shrouding the sword blade stemmed from the speed of the swing breaking the sound barrier…
The red glow at the sword's tip, however, wasn't solely due to speed—there seemed to be a touch of Igni Sign technique mixed in…
Naturally.
That was why he relished that move several times on his way to the castle hall.
Aristo's Whirlwind Slash, in essence, shared the same roots as the Spinning Slash Allen acquired when upgrading his wolf school two-handed sword to Level 5, albeit a bit more challenging.
Allen had some ideas about it, but they were currently placed after "Beast Roar: Berserk."
"That old stubborn guy doesn't understand 'yield' or 'hold back'…" Lemon chuckled a few times, shook his head lightly, and then, with a satisfied smile, patted Allen on the shoulder before heading into the inner chamber to prepare dinner.
The castle hall was left with just the two witchers again.
Allen and Vesemir exchanged glances, feeling slightly awkward due to the recent concealment.
Just as Allen was about to say something to shift the topic, Vesemir suddenly chuckled self-deprecatingly: "As a traveling mentor who can't even solve a student's troubles, I must be a rather poor teacher."
"Master Vesemir…"
Vesemir waved his hand, interrupting Allen's anxious explanation, and smiled warmly: "But I trust you. Since the 'Blue Death' has decided on this course, there must be a reason."
Hearing his widely known nickname, Allen felt chills of embarrassment run down his spine: "Master Vesemir!"
But he also felt a sense of relief.
Vesemir knew how Allen felt about that nickname.
The fact that he was still willing to joke meant that Allen's 'lack of trust' and 'hesitation' hadn't really affected Vesemir much.
"But remember…" Vesemir's smile faded, replaced by a serious expression as he looked at Allen. "No matter how good or bad your luck is, you are my student, a member of the Wolf School…"
"No matter what may come, don't carry the burden alone. No matter how grave, how difficult, the pack and I are always here…"
"I remember what you once said…"
"A lone wolf dies; the pack lives…"
Under the solemn gaze of those golden cat eyes, Allen's heart felt a warm surge, and he nodded firmly.
At that moment,
Lemon returned from the inner chamber, carrying bread and other provisions, and the two witchers fell silent.
After a while, the two witchers finished their meal and left the castle, each heading back to their quarters.
"When the crisis at Kaer Morhen is over, I'll wait for you to say it out loud…"
Vesemir looked at the returning students in the distance. Even though they appeared weary, they still teased and laughed as if carefree.
Glancing at the younger, equally weary witcher beside him, who seemed burdened as if the entire Blue Mountains weighed upon his shoulders, Vesemir paused and said: "And remember what I said…"
"The lone wolf dies; the pack lives." Allen interrupted Vesemir with a smile, "I understand."
-----------------------
South Tower
"Tap, tap, tap…"
Walking through the closed stone staircase in the tower, Allen's mind replayed Vesemir's words.
"The lone wolf dies; the pack lives…"
This was the slogan he'd thought of earlier this year for the Witcher Corps. Who would have thought, six months later, he'd hear it again, this time used by Vesemir to persuade its creator.
"Ah…"
Recalling the concerned look on the witcher master's face when they parted, Allen felt a pang in his chest and let out a sigh.
Choosing the lesser of two evils.
This was already the best outcome.
Vesemir would probably still worry and wonder about this unnameable creature or calamity, issued as a dire warning by Melitele herself. But even the strongest monsters and disasters Vesemir could imagine paled in comparison to the White Frost.
After all…
Who would have guessed that Melitele would entrust a mere mortal with something even the gods couldn't accomplish?
Who could stand against the end of a world?
As he thought, a sense of destiny swept over Allen.
Only the Conjunction of the Spheres, introducing the magic from other worlds, could save this one, and only he, with the Witcher Journal, could make that happen.
Could it be…
Was his fate, his reason for crossing worlds, to resist the White Frost and save this world?
"Destiny…"
Allen murmured, feeling conflicted.
To be honest.
Even as an orphan, having been educated in his previous life, he disliked the word. He hated the notion of a woven thread guiding his life, an inevitable river's current, or a future that seemed fixed despite all struggles…
But now.
He genuinely wished his arrival had been guided by some hand of fate.
"Know this, the time of sword and axe draws near, marking the Era of the Wolf amidst wind and snow.
The world shall die in the White Frost and be reborn under the new sun.
Ess'tuathesse! This is destined! Watch for the signs!
And the first sign…
The Filius Miraculi—the Child of Miracles—shall be born in the land of bitter cold.
Death and rebirth, brought by one who is not truly human, heralded by blood and fire…"
Reciting the age-old prophecy, Allen opened the Witcher Journal and looked at a particular line, muttering softly: "Child of Miracles… Child of Miracles…"
"If it were truly my fate to be like some legendary hero, enduring endless trials and setbacks, but ultimately fulfilling his life's purpose…"
"If it were so… if it were so…"
As a child watching animations, comics, and movies at the orphanage, he'd always wished that a terrifying, world-ending monster would suddenly appear in his peaceful reality. Then, as a cursed child, he'd be chosen to receive powers.
He'd face a tough battle, defeat the monster, and save the world.
But now, faced with a real apocalypse…
Allen, now thirty years old, suddenly hoped someone else would be chosen to be this "Child of Miracles."
But alas, there wasn't.
It seemed this world could only be saved by him…
And yet…
"Why has my outlook changed?" Allen whispered to himself.
After a long pause,realizing his mood was turning somber, Allen patted his cheeks firmly to cheer himself up:
"No need to overthink it now; I should just go back and try maintaining the passive effect of 'Beast Roar: Berserk,' then develop the Witcher Corps, gather experience gems, and unlock the Path of the Beast…"
"One step at a time; there's always a way…"
Creak…
Just as Allen was motivating himself, a door opened not far away, interrupting him.
"Allen!!!"
An excited figure rushed toward him.
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
311.How a Magical Lady Should Cleverly "Charm" a Handsome Gentleman.
312. Allen, Do You Want to Know Who Your Parents Are?
313. A Good Mother Like Vera.
314. The Situation Has Changed! The Wolf School is Moving to Aedirn!
315. The Wolf School is Done!