Thunderous applause echoed throughout the arena. However, there wasn't the slightest trace of a smile on Henselt's face, despite the applause saving him from an awkward situation.
A nearby attendant, noticing the king's displeasure and mood, bent over and whispered softly: "Your Majesty, should we pause the match…"
Glancing at the leader of the Wolf School, the attendant hesitated before continuing: "Uh… perhaps let the sorcerers inspect…"
The attendant didn't finish speaking, but everyone on the main platform understood what he meant.
What to inspect?
Naturally, it was to check if the Wolf School Witcher, who had suddenly displayed extraordinary strength, had cheated!
Upon hearing this suggestion, Henselt looked down coldly at the Cat School Witcher lying on the ground in misery, his limbs broken. His gaze then shifted to the young Wolf School Witcher, who was already walking toward the other battle groups with his sword in hand. His eyes, squeezed into slits by layers of fat, gleamed with fluctuating light.
Others might suspect that this inexperienced Witcher, like those from the Cat School, had cheated.
But Henselt knew Sol well.
The Grandmaster of the Wolf School had extremely high standards of morality and cared deeply about the school's reputation. There was no way he would tolerate such behavior. Instead, it was the Cat School that would likely be found with many problems upon investigation. Ultimately, it would only embarrass Henselt and Ban Ard.
As for why that Witcher was so powerful?
Henselt wasn't surprised by it.
There are always unexpected geniuses in this world!
Whether among humans or Witchers.
So.
"Damn it!" Henselt glanced at Sol, cursing angrily.
"Are you questioning whether they're cheating in front of the Wolf School's Grandmaster?"
The attendant was so terrified that he immediately knelt down, repeatedly apologizing.
"It's alright, Your Majesty," Sol said, trying to soothe the situation. "We of the Wolf School are willing to undergo any inspection!"
"No need!" Henselt shook his head. "I believe you!"
Then, turning to the trembling attendant: "Since the Grandmaster isn't pressing the issue, return to your post!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The attendant trembled slightly at the command, then rose and returned to his place.
"By the way, Grandmaster."
Henselt glanced down at the arena and, feigning curiosity, asked: "Who is that Witcher?"
"Allen!"
Looking at the Witcher below, whose swordsmanship was nearly on par with his own, Sol replied proudly, for once allowing some pride to slip into his tone: "He's the best Witcher in this generation from the Wolf School. His name is Allen!"
Allen?
Henselt was momentarily taken aback upon hearing the name and instinctively turned to look at Ban Ard's vice-dean, Jenks.
To his surprise, their eyes met at that exact moment. They had both heard this name before. They had even spent time searching for information about this Wolf School Witcher master but had come up with nothing. It turned out Allen wasn't a master Witcher.
He was just an apprentice.
Recalling the moment when Allen had effortlessly disarmed his opponent and rendered him powerless with a single blow, both Henselt and Jenks found it entirely reasonable now. Yet, this didn't stop Henselt from cursing inwardly: "Damn those Cat School failures. They can't even gather the right intelligence…"
"I never should've placed my hopes on these losers…"
"Henselt, should we continue with the plan?" Jenks' voice suddenly echoed in Henselt's mind, interrupting his curses.
At this point, the match was beyond their control.
The Wolf School's victory was within reach, and with no flaws exposed by the Grandmaster, Treshius wouldn't dare intervene.
"Of course, we'll continue!" Henselt raised his goblet, taking a sinister glance at Sol through the blood-red wine, as though he wanted to devour him.
"But…"
Before Jenks could finish speaking in his mind, Henselt interrupted: "Isn't the next match about hunting monsters?"
Jenks' ever-present smile stiffened; he seemed to know exactly what the king was getting at.
"Some drowners won't be able to…"
"Jenks, you know I'm not just talking about the drowners!" Henselt replied coldly. "Or rather, not just the drowners…"
There was no way he was putting all his hopes on the consistently failing Cat School. Though their incompetence still shocked him. He knew Ban Ard had been experimenting on something, especially with Jenks, Ban Ard's vice-dean, standing right in front of him.
"Your Majesty, those are important experiments…" Jenks tried to protest.
"Jenks, I told you days ago…"
Henselt turned, his gaze cold as it fell on the vice-dean of Ban Ard, whose smile had finally faltered completely.
"Destroying the Wolf School isn't just my desire."
"And Sol is the biggest obstacle in that path!"
"What's the matter?"
A deep voice suddenly interrupted them. Henselt smiled, turning to look at Sol, who was oblivious to his impending doom. Strangely, Henselt felt a mix of reluctance and pity.
"Nothing, Jenks just looks a little unwell," Henselt said. "I think he may need to visit a healer."
Jenks forced a stiff smile, stood, and excused himself before leaving.
-----------------------
Meanwhile.
Allen, hearing the applause that had inexplicably erupted, was momentarily confused. He cast a glance at Henselt on the main platform but then refocused on the enemies before him. The sight of his companion, lying on the ground with broken limbs and screaming in agony, didn't cause the other Cat School Witchers to retreat.
In fact…
The three remaining Cat School Witchers seemed entirely oblivious to the scene, completely absorbed in the battle at hand.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The sound of metal clashing echoed continuously.
One strike after another.
Forcing Hughes, Bond, and Fred to retreat repeatedly, their dodges and parries becoming increasingly strained.
"Have they lost their minds due to the potion's effects?"
Allen frowned. He couldn't believe that such a potion, capable of enhancing strength to such a degree, would have no side effects after consumption. It was hard to comprehend. After all, these Witchers were Cat School's own people!
Allen glanced at the Cat School leader behind the barrier, whose face was filled with disbelief.
"Vesemir was right. Cat School Witchers are nothing but trash!"
"Luckily, I woke up in Kaer Morhen and not a Cat School caravan!"
After muttering these thoughts, Allen noticed that Bond's forearm was starting to tremble slightly. Allen knew that his limit was approaching.
Clang!
Allen quickly rushed forward, blocking the sword slashing down on Bond. Bond, whose eyes were bloodshot from the fierce battle, had lost his composure due to old grudges. Seeing Allen step in front of him, taking his enemy away, he shouted: "Allen, I can handle this myself…"
"No, you can't!" Allen interrupted.
Without further arguing, Allen took advantage of his opponent's mindless downward slash, sidestepping swiftly to dodge the blow.
In the next moment, a flash of cold light followed.
Crack!
Crack!
Bond's opponent met the same fate as his companion. Though it must be said, while the strength behind their attacks grew greater, their movements were also becoming quicker…
But once reason was lost and actions became simple, Allen actually found these Cat School Witchers, who had taken "stimulants," easier to deal with.
Does this mean trading brains for brawn doesn't work?
This strange thought flashed through his mind.
Allen suddenly bent his knees and crouched down.
The next second—
"Swish~"
An unsharpened longsword tore through the air. It passed just two inches above Allen's head, colliding fiercely with Fred's pursuing sword.
"Clang~"
Fred's sword was forcefully deflected by the massive impact, exposing his chest, protected only by leather armor. In such a dangerous situation—
Fred not only showed no sign of fear but arrogantly sheathed his sword, looking at his opponent with a mocking gaze.
As expected...
Crack!
Crack!
The familiar sound of breaking bones echoed. The sword aimed at Fred's chest fell powerlessly to the ground, missing its target by less than a fist's distance.
"Thanks, Allen!"
Fred, with a cheeky grin, greeted Allen and then walked over to Bond, whispering words of comfort to him.
At this point—
The only enemy still standing was a lone Cat School Witcher.
Allen knew his name.
Jeffrey.
Though Jeffrey's eyes were blood-red, and saliva uncontrollably dripped from the corners of his mouth—
He was different from the other Cat School Witchers.
He still showed rare signs of intelligence. After seeing his companions defeated by Allen with ease, he quickly retreated a few steps and faced off against Hughes!
Defeating enemies didn't yield any experience orbs.
Allen had no interest in bullying a poor soul drugged by his own school, so he shouted: "Surrender!"
Allen glanced at Jeffrey but directed his gaze toward Guxart at the edge of the arena. The Cat School Witchers, after taking whatever "stimulant" they had, lost the ability to speak. The only one left who could surrender on their behalf was their leader, Guxart.
However—
When Allen looked at him, he didn't hear the sound that should have followed.
-----------------------
In the stands, the spectators grew restless, noticing the match had come to a halt.
"The professor was right. The Wolf School truly is the Witcher's orthodox lineage. They're much stronger than the other schools, but..."
Bogdan patted Radek on the shoulder and asked: "But what's going on now?"
"Why aren't those Witchers moving?"
Bogdan stood on his tiptoes, straining to see the arena.
"I'm not sure! That top Wolf School Witcher seems... to be offering a chance to surrender?"
Radek said uncertainly. He turned his head to glance at Bogdan—
Only to find that, at some point, Bogdan had pulled out a strange monocular device.
"Are you crazy, Bogdan?"
"The wizards maintaining order said no magic tools!"
Radek hastily tugged on Bogdan's black robe. To avoid affecting the Witcher battles—
The wizards enforcing the rules had forbidden the use of any magic or magical devices, with violations resulting in penalties... perhaps even a week of experiments in confinement.
"Relax, this isn't a magic tool. Didn't you notice there's no magical fluctuation at all?"
Bogdan replied casually without further explanation, instead asking again: "Radek, don't you think there's something off about those Cat School Witchers?"
"They're flailing around like lunatics on the ground..."
"The Cat School has always been a bunch of crazies. What's so strange about that?"
Radek said indifferently. Curious, he glanced at the device in Bogdan's hand and asked, "Are you sure this isn't a magic tool?"
"It's not!"
"This is called a telescope. It's something new from Novigrad. A few pieces of glass put together let you see far-off places... but that's not important..."
"Take a look quickly. I think that Cat School Witcher still standing seems off, like he's taken something!"
Radek quickly grabbed the telescope.
"What? Drugged? Let me see!"
-----------------------
In the surrounding stands, the murmurs of discussion grew louder. Guxart's face was pale, drenched in sweat. The match should have ended quickly. They were only newly trained Wolf School Witchers. They should've been easy to deal with even without drugs, let alone with such dangerous pills.
Who could have predicted that the Wolf School would produce such a monster?
He stared at those infuriating blue eyes, his fists clenched so tightly that the veins on the back of his hands stood out. Recalling the previous scenes from the match—
He was certain beyond doubt.
This young-looking Witcher was the one responsible for the deaths of Brett and Fredeca.
Why?
Guxart's heart seethed with anger.
Why...
Every time...
Every single time, it's this Witcher who ruins our plans!
He glared venomously at Allen, gnashing his teeth.
As for surrendering?
He could never accept such a result, nor had he ever considered that option.
He couldn't even imagine it...
Having failed multiple times, ruining what the king valued most—what fate awaited him and his school?
But...
The result of the arena match was already clear for all to see.
The discontented murmurs from the sorcerers in the stands were growing louder, and more and more people had noticed Jeffrey's odd state. He didn't want to face it, but there had to be an outcome.
Under the effects of those strange pills, his disciples wouldn't last much longer.
At that moment—
Guxart even had the urge to rush over the iron gate and draw his sword to kill those Wolf School Witchers. But Vesemir was watching him closely. He had no chance.
"If only Allen had died instead..."
Guxart sighed as he glanced at Jeffrey one last time, preparing to declare defeat.
Suddenly—
A commotion broke out from the main stand.
What's happening?
He vaguely heard someone shouting: "...Conjunction...monster..."
Focusing his hearing, he finally understood: "Conjunction of the Spheres! Monsters are here! Protect the king!"
-----------------------
"What?"
"Conjunction of the Spheres?"
Allen froze in the arena.
He quickly opened his Witcher Journal with his mind.
Whether it was the monster compendium or quests that could trigger a Conjunction of the Spheres, nothing had changed.
What's going on?
It's not me!
Allen was completely confused.
At that moment—
Boom!
A massive explosion echoed as the giant iron gate on the opposite side of the arena wall twisted. It was as if some monster was fiercely ramming against it.
And in the next instant—
Boom!
The giant iron gate was smashed open. Countless drowners surged out like a tidal wave.
"Hughes, Bond, Fred! Get over here, quickly!"
Allen dodged the blue-skinned little creatures raining down from above, leading the Wolf School Witchers to find an escape route.
And in the next moment—
He saw Hughes' cat-like green eyes widen suddenly: "Allen!"
"Look behind you!"
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
200. Putting on a Show.
201. Henselt is Dead?
202. The Curse Of the Black Sun!
203. A Wolf is a Wolf.
204. Hen Gedymdeith Returns.