[Monster Group "Troll Wraith" Lv69 Defeated!]
[Reward Settlement: Victory, Base Rating D, Over-level Kill +3—C, One-shot Kill +3—B]
[Final Rating: B]
[Loot Obtained: Troll Wraith Essence, Experience Beads x9, Troll Wraith Chest x4]
Amidst the stirred dust, the witcher froze as he heard the mechanical chime in his ears and saw a translucent screen appear before him.
The next second:
The [Monster Hunt] effect faded automatically as the target had perished.
A piercing pain surged through his limbs, jolting the witcher awake and causing him to cancel "Beast Roar: Berserk."
Instantly, a wave of weakness washed over him.
But he ignored the feebleness that left his hands and feet feeling limp, staring blankly at his hands.
"This... is over already?"
The Troll Wraith, a gigantic creature with a level as high as 69, had question marks for most of its attributes except agility, a massive monster that should've been as simple as crushing an ant to kill. And yet, it hadn't even managed to survive the fatal blow of [Monster Hunt]...
One strike.
One strike...
One strike!
With just a single sword strike, he had slain a ghostly giant creature.
As the dust gradually settled, a fan-shaped crater emerged on the ground, stretching from the tip of the lowered Balmur Sword all the way to a nearby rock wall. The deepest part of the crater seemed at least a meter deep.
Mind you, this was within the caves of the Blue Mountains; both the ground and walls were made of the hardest rock, not soft soil.
Allen could hardly believe this battlefield scar was his doing.
He had only ever seen this level of terrain damage in the blood-pumping comics of his past life.
"Roar—ah—"
A panicked roar came from his side.
The witcher turned to look.
"Thud, thud, thud~"
The Metal Troll that had previously stumbled into a dead end was now charging out of the dark passage. It stopped abruptly at the entrance to the slightly elevated tunnel, dumbfounded by the sudden absence of the Troll Wraith.
The tiny, beady eyes still held remnants of terror.
The four Metal Trolls glanced at each other, scanning the chamber. As the dust from the intense battle fully cleared, their gazes converged on the witcher standing in the center. Then, slowly, they lowered their gaze.
Their eyes traced down the ancient blade of Balmur, stopping at the crater and the green gemstone about the size of a troll's finger.
Under the faint glow of the Melitele Concealment Spell, the gemstone gleamed with vivid green light.
This was the only trace proving that the Troll Wraith had existed in this world.
Generally, specters would leave behind gemstone dust when defeated. The Troll Wraith just left behind a slightly larger one.
Of course.
It was smaller than the one left by a Cyclops Wraith.
Additionally, a small clump of resentment residue—a byproduct of Allen's ghostly kills—was scattered under the gemstone.
The Metal Trolls clearly recognized the gemstone's origin.
Their beady eyes filled with unease as they gazed at the short figure before the crater. Even though the witcher blocked their way to the exit, they dared not approach. They seemed to be observing him.
The witcher looked away.
He was extremely weak now.
The combined effects of Ghoul Decoction, Blizzard Potion, and "Beast Roar: Berserk" were absurdly effective—almost to a ludicrous degree. But they also brought a severe wave of weakness.
His whole body felt as if he'd just completed an Ironman Triathlon in the sickly body of his past life.
His vision was blurred and doubled, and he had to lean on the tip of his Balmur sword to stay standing.
But under the watchful eyes of the four Metal Trolls, he acted calm and casual, drinking a bottle of White Honey to cleanse the toxins from the decoctions and potions.
Then, using a dose of Drowner Heart Extract, he recovered a bit of strength, crouched down to pick up the gemstone, and carefully collected the resentment residue into a vial.
In the presence of beasts, never reveal your weakness—this applies to monsters too.
Although he had technically saved these trolls, who could say what Metal Trolls' temperament might be...
Naturally.
Allen wasn't pretending to be calm out of fear for his life.
A week of training in the Way of the Roar had indeed not been in vain.
Having maintained "Beast Roar: Berserk" for three hours every day, the witcher felt that his body was recovering at nearly twice the speed compared to a week ago, after his decisive battle with Aristo.
Besides, with Flash Step and a teleportation portal, as well as his familiarity with the layout of the Old Stonetip's Cave, escaping would only take a blink. But he sensed he could gain even more from this.
Of the seven Metal Trolls he'd summoned, one had died, and two had found the correct way out of the cave.
The Blue Mountains were vast, and locating the trolls that had scattered in different directions would be tough. He would likely have to ask the Stone Beasts to help him search later.
If he missed the chance to interact with these four Metal Trolls, who knows when he'd get another?
"Clink~"
He placed the gemstone and resentment residue back into his reagent pouch.
At this moment:
The four Metal Trolls stood motionless at the edge of the dead-end and the chamber, like still statues of humanoid metal.
Only their beady eyes spun in deep sockets, occasionally sneaking a cautious glance at the witcher, then exchanging looks with each other.
They had a silly yet timid and sly look.
"Tap~"
The witcher turned to face the Metal Trolls, taking a step toward the dead end.
The trolls instinctively took a step back.
"Tap~"
The witcher took another step forward.
The trolls stepped back again.
Their beady eyes nervously glanced around as if searching for an escape route.
The trolls' weak aggression relieved the witcher.
He halted, no longer pressing them.
Forcing the Metal Trolls into a corner might disrupt his plans.
Next:
The newly restored bit of golden energy in his bloodstream appeared again.
The mutated organ near his heart pulsed with magic.
But unlike with "Beast Roar: Berserk," where four elements surged simultaneously, only brown earth elements emerged this time, blending with the golden energy of the Roar.
Then:
Golden-brown energy waves, formed by light particles, flowed gently into the energy node beneath his tongue.
Wild Speech.
Allen's second skill from the Way of the Roar, enabling him to sense the thoughts of low-intelligence beings and convey simple commands.
In previous days, he'd found that this skill significantly reduced targets' hostility and urge to flee.
Three days ago, he'd even used Wild Speech to pet a freshly-fed brown bear.
This was why he felt confident enough to stay and attempt to tame the Metal Trolls despite his weakened state.
"Fir..."
The ancient, elegant syllables echoed through the silent cave.
Golden-brown ripples, visible only to the witcher, spread quickly toward the Metal Trolls like ripples in water.
However...
Just as Allen was organizing his words to persuade the trolls in his mind—
"Roar~ Roar Roar~ Roar~"
The troll second closest to the Witcher suddenly let out a few panicked roars a second after the call of the Wild Speech began to resonate. Then, it abruptly leaned backward.
"Boom~"
The troll slammed heavily onto the ground, raising a cloud of dust.
When the gray dust quickly dissipated, a faintly metallic yellow belly gleamed underneath.
The Witcher was stunned at the sight and hadn't yet had time to react.
"Roar~ Roar Roar~ Roar~"
"Roar~ Roar Roar~ Roar~"
Two more trolls fell to the ground, revealing their bellies. The last troll, standing at the front, heard the noise from behind and scratched its head, confused as it turned around.
Green sparks flickered off its bald head.
In that flash of green light, the troll saw its companions lying on the ground with their bellies exposed, and it was immediately startled.
Just then—
The golden-brown ripples of the Wild Speech reached this first troll that had turned around.
"Surrender… Troll… Surrender…" echoed in the Witcher's mind, as the Wild Speech translated the unique, simple, and clumsy phrases of the trolls.
"Boom~"
Dust rose again.
The last troll also lay on its back, exposing its pale belly.
Just barely…
The translation of the Wild Speech had almost missed the trolls' surrender.
Seeing the exposed bellies and the four pairs of pleading eyes in front of him, the Witcher couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth.
The persuasive words he'd painstakingly prepared to convey a composed demeanor suddenly became useless.
After a moment of silence, he managed to give a weary command before the Wild Speech's effect faded: "Follow me… all of you..."
-------------------------
Regardless of the Witcher's inner thoughts—
The specters, treasure chests, experience beads, the four metal trolls, and the month-long cooldown of the Conjunction of the Spheres—the Rock Trolls...
All things considered, this Conjunction of the Spheres was incredibly fruitful.
Not only that.
With the metal trolls' currently docile temperament, it could be expected that each month's "Conjunction of the Spheres—Rock Trolls" event would bring a small group of useful forces to the School of the Wolf.
The only consideration Allen now faced was how to swiftly increase the number of qualified Witchers in the School of the Wolf, to prevent an imbalance in the ratio of trolls to Witchers as more legendary troll units joined each month.
Otherwise—
Allen couldn't stay in Kaer Morhen year-round, and neither the rock trolls nor the metal trolls were as well-trained as domesticated dogs. If their numbers grew disproportionately, it could lead to various risks.
Of course, this was just a happy problem for the current Witchers.
With so many trolls joining, the Ancient Sea Stronghold would become even more impenetrable, and who knows, there might even be a chance for further fortifications.
After bringing the four metal trolls to the rock trolls' camp, Mountain Stone and Big Stone easily accepted them, and they were pleasantly surprised to find that the language or roars of the metal trolls shared a common origin with the language of Big Stone and the recipe book.
Unfortunately—
These four trolls only had average troll intelligence; their vocabulary was very limited, and they knew almost nothing about the world beyond the "Conjunction of the Spheres—Rock Trolls."
They only offered a few words like "danger," "hunger," and "cold" for any imagination.
Another notable ability of the metal trolls was their special skill to "sniff out" metal veins from a considerable distance. Soon, the School of the Wolf might add a few iron, copper... mines.
Although, given the current number of Witchers, mining those veins would be nearly impossible for now.
But who knows what the future holds?
Before long, these metal trolls' abilities might prove critical.
-------------------------------------
After settling the trolls, Allen returned to Kaer Morhen.
Just as he exchanged greetings with Claral and a few other apprentices at the gate, he heard familiar shouts mixed with the fierce clashing of wooden sticks nearby.
"Wham!"
"Keep your focus on the target…"
"Wham! Wham!"
"Don't forget the Witcher's senses, stay calm, anticipate…"
"Wham! Wham! Wham!"
"Wrong! Completely wrong! The spin is to increase the speed and power of your strike; what good is it if it just looks impressive..."
"Wrong again! How many times must I tell you, grip your sword firmly with both hands, watch for the blade's rebound—are you trying to be the first Witcher in Kaer Morhen to die by your own sword…?"
Following the sound, Allen walked forward a few steps, crossing a section of the wall recently cleared of moss, still tinged with dark green.
It was now dusk, and the sky was a bit dim.
In the training yard nearest the gate, Erni was holding a sword, facing off against an apprentice with black hair. Sweat had soaked his hair, which hung damply, steaming.
Yet his shouts and reprimands were full of energy, without a hint of mercy, and he showed no sign of stopping.
In the training yard, the other members of the Witcher Corps were just as excited as he was, as if they'd been injected with a surge of energy.
"Tsk, tsk. With a goal to strive for, they're clearly different!" Allen looked at the sky and clicked his tongue in admiration.
At this time of day, his reliable companions would have usually abandoned the frustratingly unskilled apprentices to head to the castle hall for a meal.
He'd underestimated the allure of the high mountain trials for Witchers who had endured them for half a year.
This was actually perfect.
Seeing the apprentices so exhausted they were practically panting to cool down, it was clear that the Witcher Corps would be forming much faster.
It wouldn't be long before they'd have new members.
Not intending to disturb his passionate teammates, Allen took a few more glances and nodded in satisfaction before deciding to head back to the tower. But after a few steps, he suddenly paused, recalling the incomplete agreement with Mountain Stone about the supply of rotten meat.
Come to think of it—
Although his relationship with Mountain Stone was as strong as ever, and even improved due to the drowner cooking skills, if it had been a more temperamental creature, or if he'd visited Big Stone a bit later, he might have lost a valuable ally.
Moreover, the agreement—
Or rather, the contract he'd established to provide regular rotten meat in exchange for Mountain Stone's Rock Troll tribe migrating to Kaer Morhen, seemed to carry some special meaning. It was something Allen couldn't overlook.
"Only an incomplete effort, but not one that was abandoned entirely, so it probably has nothing to do with Lady Vera…"
"The weekly quantity of rotten meat is also significant, so it's not something that could be transported by just one or two people…"
After some thought, Allen returned to the gate and found Claral, asking: "Claral, do you know who was responsible for transporting the rotten meat to the Circle of Elements a month ago?"
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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321. The King of the Wolf Pack Resides at the Summit.
322. To Kill Him, You Need a Silver Sword.
323. The Wolf School Grandmaster Set.
324. The Wild Hunt, Any News?
325. Exposure.