[Monster Group "Cyclops Wraith" Lv73 Defeated!]
[Reward Calculation: Basic Rating D, Defeated Higher Level +3—C, Decapitation Intimidation +3—B, Main Quest +3—A, Few Against Many +3—S]
[Final Rating: S (Rewards 3)]
[Loot Gained: Cyclops Wraith's Purification Spirit 3, Experience Pearls 45, Cyclops Wraith's Treasure Chest 18, Wraith's Purification Spirit 630, Wraith's Treasure Chest 18]
[Main Quest Complete: Ghostly Revenge Carnival (Wraiths Defeated 1614/1614)]
[Reward Obtained: Divine Dreamwalking]
As the vast information flooded his mind, a constant chime sounded in his head. But the witcher was already accustomed to it; he glanced over the battle evaluation and rewards, filled with joy.
The triple rewards of an S-rating alone made Allen spiritually wealthy with purification spirits.
Calculating the increase in perception, he realized that using two of the Wraith's purification spirits would add one point to his perception. This time, Allen effectively gained three hundred and fifteen perception points.
Even with a cap on individual consumption, it would still be enough to elevate the strength of those around him.
Perception is crucial for both witchers and mages alike.
"And with the Cyclops Wraith's purification spirits, my strength isn't far behind Vesemir's now; maybe this time, I might surpass him!"
Allen felt a surge of anticipation.
However, with so many people around, it was better to wait until everything settled down and he returned to the Temple of Melitele to enhance his abilities.
Thinking of the temple, he recalled the five golden treasure chests he had recently opened in the sanctuary.
"I should open these treasure chests in the Temple of Melitele again, and besides, with the goddess Melitele's mission completed, the 'Evil God's Gaze' that's been haunting me should be lifted as well..." Allen thought.
Although the primary cause of this disaster was those damned Wild Hunt warriors.
But surely the goddess wouldn't expect him to annihilate all the Aen Elle to remove the "Evil God's Gaze"...
Surely not, right?
Shaking his head to rid himself of negative thoughts, Allen turned his attention back to the main quest reward — Divine Dreamwalking.
As he was about to examine this high-ranking skill, he was interrupted by the sound of hooves behind him.
"Clop, clop, clop."
He quickly stowed away his Witcher's Journal.
"114..." Vesemir approached without slowing down, immediately calling out a number.
Allen, hearing this, sheathed his sword with a sigh: "110, you win, Vesemir."
Balmur hadn't gone on the expected rampage, which had affected Allen's focus during the hunt. So even after quickly regaining his composure, he ended up killing four fewer Wraiths than Vesemir.
Sensing Balmur, hidden in his scabbard, hadn't stirred since the battle with the Cyclops Wraith, Allen sighed inwardly.
Such arrogance...
Does it disdain Wraiths as opponents?
"Haha!" Vesemir laughed, clapping Allen's shoulder with reassurance. "You did great too."
Feeling the weight of Vesemir's hand, Allen shook his head slightly.
Vesemir's gloating expression was like a kid winning a water-gun competition in kindergarten.
Just then—
The knights and witcher soldiers, who had been watching the battle, gradually began to cheer after a brief commotion.
"May King!"
"May King!"
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Meanwhile, Allen's keen hearing picked up some amusing background chatter amidst the cheers.
"Why is everyone cheering for May King? I've been counting; Vesemir killed more Wraiths than Allen. Could I be wrong?" a guard knight asked, puzzled.
"You actually counted?" another knight replied in surprise.
"Didn't you all count?" the first knight said, astonished.
The second knight paused and then replied, "That's not important! Vesemir might be incredible, but if he wins, that's only Vesemir's victory for Kaer Morhen!"
"But Master Allen is our May King from Ellander! Between a local and an outsider, who do you support?"
After a second's thought, the knight replied, "Of course, our own!"
"There you go!" the second knight affirmed. "Then what are you waiting for? Shout with us!"
"Oh…All Hail May King!"
"All Hail, May King!"
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A simple logic question:
Given that Allen's perception is forty-seven points, and Vesemir's perception is seventy points,
Will Vesemir hear what Allen can?
Allen glanced over at Vesemir, whose smile had started to fade. Evidently, the answer to this question required no thought…
Ignoring Vesemir's wounded expression, Allen casually suggested, "Shall we head back?"
Vesemir, glancing at the joyously cheering crowd, let a slight smile return to his face.
"Yes, let's go."
The two witchers urged their horses forward toward Ellander.
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"All Hail, May King!"
"All Hail, May King!"
----------------------
As they drew closer, the cheering crowd's enthusiasm grew louder and more passionate. When the witchers dismounted, the cheers reached a peak.
Under Arthur and Sara's approval, and perhaps even encouragement, a group of knights in gray and black armor rushed forward as Allen dismounted, lifting him high. Cheering, they tossed the witcher up into the air over and over.
In truth—
Their cheering wasn't solely for Allen's title as May King.
Half a month ago, he had saved Duke Mason and the knights from a horde of ghouls and Alghouls...
The specter oil he tirelessly brewed had proven incredibly effective today, practically saving Ellander...
And then there was the Cyclops Wraith…
Even from afar, its godlike presence struck fear into their hearts, yet Master Allen had taken it down single-handedly…
All these factors combined.
Allen had done so much for Ellander, for their homeland. Perhaps only the term "hero," an old-fashioned title in today's jaded world, could describe all he had done for Ellander.
Vesemir, seated on his horse with arms crossed, watched with a small smile.
"I offer Ellander and Duke Mason's deepest gratitude to you," Arthur said, respectfully approaching Vesemir.
Perhaps he wanted to prevent any bitterness from arising in this hero, who had equally risked his life to save their homeland.
"I will report everything accurately to the Duke..." Arthur continued.
"No need," Vesemir waved his hand to interrupt without looking back, "Rewards like that no longer matter to someone my age."
"When you report, try to keep my name out of it. Allen is the one who truly needs the recognition."
Arthur looked up, surprised, at Vesemir's words. In those dark golden, cat-like eyes, beyond the pride and gentle smile, was the image of a figure being lifted by the crowd toward the highest place in the soft glow of the firelight. Seeing this, the middle-aged knight seemed to reflect, then nodded after a moment of silence. "Understood."
Not far away, Mary stood in the empty darkness, her large, bright eyes following the witcher's figure as he moved up and down.
"What are you thinking about?" a cold female voice asked from behind her.
Mary knew exactly whose voice it was. Yet, for some reason, she didn't want to shift her gaze just then, nor did she feel like fawning over the woman as she usually would.
After a long pause, she softly murmured a cryptic line: "He feels both close and far away…"
The sorceress fell silent for a long time after hearing this, finally sighing. She placed her hands on Mary's shoulders. "It's alright. Take your time."
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No feast lasts forever.
The victory cheers, mixed with the occasional cries of grief drifting from Ellander, lasted only a few minutes.
Once Allen came down from the air, everyone had to face the next battle.
In fact, as they looked back and saw the young lives from the May Day Festival cut short in the wilderness, their cheers faded to silence. Pain replaced joy.
"Leave five squads here to bring these… kids back to the city. Don't let carrion creatures desecrate their bodies," Sara sighed, ordering her soldiers.
Dozens of black-armored soldiers immediately separated from the group, beginning to gather the young corpses from the road.
"Handle them gently. There may still be people in the city waiting for them…" Arthur added.
With these words, the last remnants of joy vanished from the hearts of the crowd.
They continued onward in silence, stepping over bloody bodies, terrified young faces, and the lost future of Ellander. Entering through the city gates was like walking into a fresh hell.
Before their eyes, the flowers that once adorned the city like a paradise lay trampled into the mud, covered with blood and grime. Cries and sobs replaced laughter and cheers. Broken buildings burned, while scattered bodies lay cold on the ground, with silent figures kneeling before the ruins and the fallen.
They were alive but seemed more like the dead than the corpses around them.
Vesemir and Vera appeared unaffected; after all, they had left Ellander after the disaster struck. But Allen and Mary, who had been celebrating outside the city, were genuinely stunned.
There was a sense of clashing extremes—one moment flowers and beauty, the next blood and carnage. The contrast was stark.
The others, meanwhile—the knights and the monster hunter army—had red, tear-filled eyes. Whether from anger or sorrow, or both, it was hard to tell.
After all, Allen and Mary were only feeling out of place. But many of those who perished today were people the knights and monster hunter army members knew—some were even family.
"Damn those Wild Hunt!" Allen cursed unconsciously.
"The Wild Hunt?" Arthur, who was nearby, turned his bloodshot eyes toward Allen.
Not only Arthur, but also several nearby knights and Monster Hunting Army soldiers, looked at him after hearing his words.
"What do you mean by the Wild Hunt?" Sara asked, coming over.
Allen hesitated for a moment and then explained truthfully, "At the end of the May Day procession, I saw knights riding skeletal horses flying across the sky."
"The 'meteor' that struck Ellander was released from the scepter in their hands..."
The crowd fell silent for a moment.
"The Wild Hunt is just a myth to scare children, isn't it?" Sara asked in disbelief.
They don't know about the Flotsam Harbor incident?
Allen was taken aback but quickly understood. Information traveled slowly in this era and often didn't spread in a logical way. For example, news of the Wild Hunt's attack on Flotsam Harbor had only reached Duke Mason of Ellander about half a month ago, more than ten days after it happened, and even then only because the king of Temeria issued a decree from the capital.
The distance between Flotsam harbor and Ellander was shorter than that to Vizima, Temeria's capital. However, Ellander was a mountain city, while Flotsam harbor was surrounded by wild forests and almost inaccessible by land, reachable only by merchants traveling by ship. As such, news took longer to spread.
So it was understandable that the Monster Hunting Army and the knights were unaware.
Allen, glancing at Vesemir, explained the events that had taken place in Flotsam harbor.
Upon hearing this, the Monster Hunting Army and knights were visibly shaken, their eyes red with a furious resolve.
"Those filthy beasts!" Sara spat out angrily.
Arthur took a deep breath, raised his hand to silence everyone, and said, "Let's finish what's before us and calm the citizens. When Ellander is stable, Duke Mason will know what needs to be done."
The knight's tone remained calm as ever. But Allen could sense a deep, burning anger in his voice, one that could ignite at any moment.
The group continued deeper into the city.
As they went, the number of the living and the dead increased, the sights growing ever more harrowing. Every step challenged their limits of comprehension.
Allen saw ways in which people could die that he'd never imagined before: crushed, burned, exploded, trampled, frozen by ice shards…
The only common thread was that every corpse with a visible face wore an expression of sheer agony—horrifyingly contorted.
Walking through the sticky, dark-red puddles, inhaling the stench of blood and scorched flesh, even Allen's stomach churned, his mind fighting against the overwhelming horror.
Even the hardened men of the Monster Hunting Army and the knights, who feared no death, walked with trembling lips and teary eyes.
Today was truly Ellander's funeral.
....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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282. A Commission of One Oren.
283. Divine Dreamwalking.
284. Unboxing.
285. The Behemoth Snare and Battle Roar of the Cyclopean Clan.
286. Would the Wolf School Like to Move?