Claral looked around at the other apprentices upon hearing this, then cautiously asked: "Did Commander Allen just go to see those trolls?"
Allen nodded.
After hesitating for a second and dismissing the apprentices, Claral lowered his voice, saying, "We've all delivered rotten meat to the dozen or so newly arrived trolls."
"What happened after that? Why did it stop suddenly?" Allen asked.
Claral glanced around again to make sure no one else was nearby, took a step closer, and whispered even quieter: "It was Lady Mary who originally instructed us to do this."
"At first, everything went smoothly; we even led the apprentices to clear out the drowners along the route from Kaer Morhen to the Circle of Elements."
"But later, about a month after we started, Master Aristo returned with supplies. When he found out we were feeding a dozen rock trolls, he got furious…"
"Saying things like, 'Witchers don't raise monsters'… and something about consequences…"
"Lady Mary and Lady Vera weren't at Kaer Morhen at the time, so we had to stop…"
Allen didn't ask Claral whether Aristo knew that this decision had been made by him.
If Aristo didn't know, Claral wouldn't have been acting so sneaky now—it's likely that the rage had been directed at someone else. But, truthfully, Allen could already guess this.
There weren't many people at Kaer Morhen now, and one could count on their fingers the people with the authority to interfere in Allen's decisions.
But Aristo…
If this stubborn, hot-tempered old man disagreed, it could indeed be a hassle.
After all, rotting meat still needed to be delivered to the rock trolls' camp; he couldn't personally go each time just to avoid Aristo. He planned to go down the mountain again in August or September, and it would be impossible to keep this hidden from the school.
"Commander, about Master Aristo…" a hesitant voice came from beside him.
Allen turned to see Claral, his young brow furrowed with worry, clearly troubled about Allen's relationship with Aristo.
"It's okay," Allen patted his head, smiling. "There might be a small misunderstanding between Master Aristo and me on this matter. I'll go explain things to him later; it'll be fine."
Claral, just twelve or thirteen, took Allen's word for it.
Relieved to hear that nothing would go wrong between the two Witcher masters he was closest to, Claral immediately relaxed.
He then started cheerfully recounting stories from the past six months, sharing how Master Aristo had been strict, had a sour face, and how the apprentices had secretly made little effigies of him as a way of complaining about their harsh training.
After a while, he coughed, stopping his stories when the apprentices who had been sent away returned, and assumed a mature expression.
Using this chance, Allen also said his goodbyes, heading off to find Aristo before nightfall.
----------------------
Aristo wasn't hard to find.
Ever since he lost to Allen a week ago, he'd been practicing swordsmanship in some remote corner on the north side of the main fortress.
Moreover…
After the first two or three days, during which he guided Allen on the state of the Witcher regiment's training and detailed each apprentice's strengths and weaknesses, he hadn't appeared again.
It was clear that he was voluntarily transferring control of the Witcher regiment.
Truthfully, Aristo treated him quite well.
"Whoosh—"
"Clang—"
The sound of the heavy longsword slicing through the air, followed by crisp impacts.
Arriving at the main fortress's entrance, Allen followed the sounds and quickly spotted a flash of red moving back and forth among several iron-armored dummies.
Honestly…
Allen admired Witcher masters like Aristo.
It was hard to imagine someone his age, after all, two or three hundred years old, continuing to practice the tedious art of swordsmanship every day.
If not for the constant crises piling up one after another…
He had planned to lie low after the mountain trial, enjoying the ageless life of a Witcher.
"Clang—Clang—Clang—"
The series of strikes broke Allen's train of thought on what retirement life might be like for a Witcher.
He watched Aristo practice swordsmanship, not immediately interrupting, instead organizing his words in his head.
Unlike the comforting words he had told Claral…
Aristo's resistance to raising rock trolls might not be a mere misunderstanding; it could be a matter rooted in the Witchers' fundamental attitude toward monsters, perhaps even a matter of principle.
It was a complex issue.
On one hand, using the strength of the rock trolls to bolster the Wolf School's power was a reasonable choice.
But was Aristo wrong in resisting?
Let's not forget…
Two months ago, Allen had almost been killed by the very rock trolls.
Ten years ago, Vesemir was severely wounded by the same group of rock trolls.
So the threat was very real.
Put simply…
To Allen, keeping the rock trolls offered valuable defense against potential threats from nobles, sorcerers, the Wild Hunt, or even the White Frost—a value that far outweighed the lurking danger.
Both were justified, making it hard to persuade each other.
And Aristo had always been a stubborn, old-fashioned Witcher master.
"Ugh—" Allen sighed.
Just imagining the upcoming scene made his head hurt.
"Clang—"
"Whoosh—"
Perhaps because Allen hadn't hidden his footsteps, the sound of strikes stopped soon after he arrived.
"Allen, you're looking for me?" Aristo placed his practice sword back on the weapon rack in the corner.
Allen paused for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before nodding, "Yes, Master Aristo. It's about the rock trolls near the Circle of Elements…"
He instinctively paused.
Because he noticed Aristo's figure freeze momentarily at the mention of the rock trolls.
The rugged face with a thick beard, initially calm, suddenly turned expressionless.
The pressure fell like a fierce mountain wind.
Swallowing, Allen quickly outlined his thoughts on using the rock trolls to protect Kaer Morhen and emphasized the looming threats from nobles, sorcerers, and the Wild Hunt facing the ancient fortress.
But he hadn't even finished when—
"No need to say more…" Aristo waved his hand abruptly. "Go ahead with your plan."
"Rock tr…" Hearing this halfway through, Allen, still trying to further convince him, was stunned. "You mean you agree?"
Allen had considered this possibility, but he hadn't expected the famously stubborn, hot-tempered, and conservative Witcher master to agree before he'd even finished his prepared speech.
Could it be because he won the duel last week?
Given the stark contrast between the image of Aristo Claral had painted and the straightforward attitude he showed now, Allen could only think of one explanation.
But it didn't make sense!
He'd already received the benefit of leading the regiment from that duel.
To also compromise his principles to make a decision that could endanger the school…
It didn't seem like the just and stubborn Aristo he knew.
Just like the loyal ministers and generals of ancient times, they could yield benefits and divide power, but when it came to the safety of the king or the country, the more loyal they were, the more unyielding and uncompromising they would be...
Aristo nodded, but still maintained a blank expression, his brows slightly furrowed, not looking as though he agreed with Allen.
"Why?" Allen instinctively asked.
Aristo heard the question and furrowed his brows again, but something seemed to come to his mind, and he softened his expression, saying: "Allen, a wolf pack consists of many wolves, but they hunt in only one direction..."
"Do you know how they choose that direction?"
Allen was taken aback, unsure of what Aristo meant. However, Aristo didn't seem to want an answer from Allen. Without pausing even a second after asking, he answered his own question: "Strength!"
"The wolf pack chooses its direction through strength."
"The alpha wolf who defeats all the others chooses the direction, and that becomes the path the pack follows."
"The prey chosen by the alpha wolf becomes the target of the entire pack's hunt."
"So..."
Aristo paused, looking directly into Allen's striking blue feline eyes, and said: "You won the duel with me, so you naturally have the right to choose the direction for the wolf pack."
So it really was because of that duel...
Allen thought to himself.
But for some reason, he felt that Aristo's analogy was a bit strange.
"But..." Aristo interrupted Allen's thoughts again, "Witchers are witchers, and monsters are monsters..."
"They can be used, but never trust any creature that has ever seen humans as food, understand?"
Allen nodded at this.
Seeing Allen's serious expression, and confirming that he wasn't just paying lip service, Aristo finally smiled a little. Then he glanced at the darkening sky.
"Is there anything else? I still plan to practice a bit more."
Allen shook his head, understanding that Aristo was subtly asking him to leave. He took his leave and left on his own.
Clop-clop-clop...
On his way away from the northern side of the main fortress training ground, Allen, deep in thought about Aristo's words, suddenly had a flash of insight and stopped in his tracks.
He finally realized what was strange about Aristo's analogy.
Yes!
The wolf pack does indeed rely on strength to choose an alpha who decides the pack's direction and hunting target.
But...
Once the alpha is chosen, unless defeated by another wolf in the pack,
Then, even if another wolf is far stronger, how could it override the alpha's decision on the pack's path?
With this realization, Allen abruptly turned around.
The sky was dimming.
In the distance, the training ground had shrunk in his field of vision due to the distance.
Though he couldn't make out his face, the figure of Aristo, who had just driven him off and claimed to plan on practicing more swordsmanship, was standing still, motionless.
Like a bent matchstick.
Squinting, Allen's piercing blue eyes narrowed as they contracted.
He saw it clearly.
That "matchstick" figure wasn't looking at the sky after all!
The witcher followed Aristo's line of sight.
In the dark, deep blue sky, low gray clouds were blown by the mountain winds, circling around the towering castle.
At the end of his gaze—
The window was empty, glowing with dim yellow candlelight.
The curtains were billowing in the cold wind, giving off a sense of loneliness and isolation.
That was the highest place in the School of the Wolf.
There,
The king of the wolf pack lived...
-----------------------
An hour later.
After a simple dinner, the witcher returned to the third floor of the northern tower.
Bang!
The door closed, and with a thought, the witcher opened his Witcher's Journal.
[Name: Allen]
[Age: 14]
[Title: Miracle Child]
[Health: 100%, Stamina: 660/660, Mana: 730/730]
[Attributes: Strength 63 (+2), Agility 61 (+1), Constitution 66 (+1), Perception 68, Mystery 73]
The increase of four points in strength, agility, and constitution combined came from the energy cycle of Beast Roar: Berserk.
Although the numbers weren't very large, it was remarkable that this increase was achieved in just one week. And even now, Allen still hadn't managed to complete a single full cycle.
One could imagine—
When he finally completes the Beast Roar: Berserk energy cycle, and perhaps even maintains it around the clock, the level his strength, agility, and constitution would reach.
And this was only one skill among the arts of the Beast Roar.
Beast Roar: Wild Speech could also increase perception, but since he hadn't completed the Beast Roar: Berserk cycle, Allen didn't want to be distracted.
And,
Improving his "mastery of Beast Roar: Berserk", "fifty percent faster execution of Beast Roar: Berserk", and "enhancing the roar's power and range by twenty percent"—
With the practical effectiveness of Beast Roar: Berserk in combat, the side effects of maintaining these energy states could immediately and significantly increase the witcher's power.
Until he reaches the peak of maintaining this state, it's unlikely Allen would be willing to change to another roar.
However, a small pity was—
The enhancements in speed, intensity, and range of the roar's effects could only be maintained if the witcher was undisturbed, so it wasn't yet viable in actual combat. But he saw it as a promising prospect.
Thinking of Beast Roar: Berserk, the witcher was reminded of the time in Old Stonetip's cavern when he killed the troll ghost spirit in a single strike, causing massive terrain destruction and triggering Witcher's Hunt to reach a hundred percent only to end due to the target's death—a skill he called "Sword Flash."
Yes, Sword Flash.
That was the name Allen had given it.
Although it wasn't true energy but magical power that triggered the effect, it felt accurate enough.
And…
It sounded cool!
After entrusting the metal troll to Big Rock and Mountain Rock, Allen had actually attempted it once on his return journey, hoping to see if "Sword Flash" was a coincidence or something reproducible.
This ability to slay large monsters directly without relying on Witcher Hunt would be immensely reassuring for a witcher still wary of the Journal's influence.
Unfortunately...
Despite following every step strictly according to memory—Balmur Sword, Alghoul decoction, Blizzard potion, Beast Roar: Berserk, Witcher Hunt—he hadn't managed to recreate it.
He wondered if it was due to a lack of a sufficiently strong enemy to excite the Balmur sword. But he would have to test it again another time.
The rest of the conditions were manageable, but alghoul decoction and Blizzard potion were genuinely costly.
Even though Allen was now quite wealthy, money wasn't something to waste.
With a soft sigh, he shook off the heart's phantom pain. Allen's thoughts commanded—
[Ding! Would you like to use the purified spirit of the troll wraith?]
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
322. To Kill Him, You Need a Silver Sword.
323. The Wolf School Grandmaster Set.
324. The Wild Hunt, Any News?
325. Exposure.
326. I Haven't Even Acted Yet, How Is It Over?