How to kill the Wild Hunt?
This is a difficult question to answer.
The Red Riders can freely ride their horses through the air, casting spells from above capable of destroying entire large cities. And let's not even talk about ordinary people or witchers—even veteran sorcerers who can fly are few and far between.
This is an insurmountable chasm.
It's like warfare in his previous life; one side had control over the skies, coming and going at will, while the other could only hold steel spears, riding horses, waiting for a fleeting opportunity from the ground.
So Allen doesn't doubt the original story and the games from his previous life, depicting how the Aen Elle conquered countless worlds.
If all these worlds were like the Witcher's world…
That would be a lower-dimensional attack, easily crushing all opposition without a sound.
He even finds it more remarkable that in the game, a few witchers and sorceresses could force the Wild Hunt to give up their aerial advantage and land to fight with "primitive" magic swords…
And they even lost, without a single Aen Elle escaping…
It's like they had a stupidity buff placed on them; it's just absurd. But Allen doesn't dare to hope that, in reality, the Wild Hunt would be so irrational when facing him. Thus, figuring out how to deal with the Wild Hunt is currently an almost unsolvable problem.
The only method Allen can think of is using the Ard Gaeth portal's allure, finding a narrow location to lure them into a ground battle. Though, whether the war-hardened Aen Elle, who have conquered multiple worlds, would truly be so arrogant…
Hmm… it's hard to say. But initially, it should be possible.
However, the Aen Elle are not just a few individuals. After one or two traps, it's bound to lose effectiveness.
Moreover…
Even if they land, can we truly eliminate them?
The witcher recalled the devastation of Flotsam City and the massacre of Ellander during May Day, sighing internally.
"We cannot answer how to kill the Wild Hunt at this moment either…" Vesemir's voice broke the silence.
"At this moment?" The old Duke seized upon his words.
"Yes." The witcher master glanced at Allen, carefully choosing his words. "Your Grace must be aware that there are many witcher schools…"
The old Duke nodded.
"In Nilfgaard, the Viper School is a branch of witchers. Its grandmaster, Ivar Evil-Eye, founded the Viper School with the purpose of exterminating the Wild Hunt."
"And during Ivar's mutation into a witcher, it is said that his eyes mutated in a way that allowed him to see the Wild Hunt as they rampaged across the worlds."
"So, when we left Flotsam City, we sent someone to Nilfgaard to invite Grandmaster Ivar for a meeting."
Vesemir spoke frankly.
The old Duke fell silent upon hearing this.
Having spent half his life warring on the battlefield, he had witnessed countless brutal and bloody scenes. His spirit and will were as hard as iron. Yet even he felt a touch of helplessness at this moment.
The Wild Hunt…
If even the Wolf School, the most orthodox and strongest of the witcher schools, was powerless against them…
Could a witcher school he had never even heard of, all the way in Nilfgaard, really be able to handle these damnable creatures?
As for Vesemir's claim that the Viper School was founded with the purpose of exterminating the Wild Hunt…
But then what?
So many years have passed—have they succeeded?
Why does the Wild Hunt still ravage his lands, slaughtering his people and nation?
Vesemir could guess the old Duke's thoughts from his silence.
To be honest…
When Allen first proposed inviting Ivar Evil-Eye, he didn't believe that the so-called "madman" from rumors really had a way to deal with the Wild Hunt.
In fact, even now, he still didn't believe it.
But what other options did they have?
Seeing the old Duke's somewhat grim expression, Vesemir was about to speak, trying to say something to boost his confidence.
After all…
Allies willing to unite against the Wild Hunt are indeed hard to come by.
"I can wait," the old Duke suddenly spoke up. "Even if you cannot invite Ivar Evil-Eye, I can send someone in the name of the Temerian Royal Family to Nilfgaard…"
Everyone looked up simultaneously, surprised by his words.
"I don't have many years left," the old Duke's fierce gaze swept over Vesemir and Allen, "and my only wish for the rest of my life…"
"I want everyone to know the brutal fate that awaits those who dare violate the lands under the White Rose…"
"No matter if it's human or not, even if it's called a disaster, seen as an unstoppable force of nature…"
"I'll drag those damned bastards from the Wild Hunt…"
"…and take them to the grave with me."
"Crack!"
Thunder and lightning tore through the air, filling the vast room.
As the wind howled, the candlelight flickered wildly.
At that moment…
Allen felt the Duke's gaze fix on his eyes, as though awaiting his response.
"You will get your wish," the witcher met those deep brown eyes. "No matter how difficult, the Wild Hunt will be slain without a doubt!"
"Good!" The old Duke struck his cane against the ground and stood. "If you need any assistance…"
He then called out to "Pablo."
"Yes, my Lord." A middle-aged servant in simple attire respectfully emerged from the corner.
"Even if I am not in Ellander, you can always find him in the castle," the Duke said to Allen.
Allen and Vesemir nodded slightly.
Then…
The old Duke swept his gaze around before waving his hand dismissively: "That's enough. Ianna stays, the rest may leave."
"Clomp, clomp, clomp~"
After the witchers and sorceresses left, the Duke glanced around at his attendants and guards, then waved them away too.
"You leave as well."
"Yes, my Lord."
Before long…
"Creak~"
The door closed.
Only the old Duke and Ianna remained in the room.
After a few seconds of pondering in place, he spoke not a word to Melitele's archpriestess. He quietly walked to the window, staring at the torrential rain, thunder, and lightning outside.
The room was silent for a long time.
"The Black Death, the Conjunction of the Spheres, the Curse of the Dark Sun…" The old Duke muttered as if to himself without turning. "And the Wild Hunt…"
"Ianna, is this world about to descend into chaos once more?"
Ianna gazed toward the window.
The once-mighty figure, even though trying to stand straight, now looked hunched and frail.
"You already know the answer in your heart, don't you?" She sighed, "Besides…"
"Has there ever been a day when this world wasn't in chaos?"
------------------------
After leaving the city gate tower, they all went their separate ways.
Vesemir, Vera, and Mary went straight back to the temple, while Lysa held an umbrella and walked into Ellander. In the marketplace of Ellander, Mary and a group of patients awaited fresh bandages and care.
As for Allen...
He accompanied Arthur, the Captain of the Royal Guards, to the home of "Rado Lath," a renowned court painter in Ellander.
As a traveler from another world and a Witcher of the Wolf School, the title of knight was merely a pleasant-sounding honor for him; to a Witcher, it didn't hold the same value as it did for this world's residents.
Therefore…
Although Arthur was enthusiastic about welcoming Allen as a knight of Ellander and took care to arrange every detail of the knighthood ceremony perfectly, things like a family crest held little meaning for a Witcher who had lost the ability to reproduce or, more accurately, was biologically isolated from ordinary humans.
Thus…
Allen casually chose the fierce wolf head insignia of his school for his family crest and banner to represent his identity. Following the strong recommendation of Rado Lath and Arthur, he chose the black background of the Temerian crest.
Notably, both Arthur and Rado Lath tried their best to convince Allen to add a white iris to the crest, which the Witcher promptly refused.
What a joke.
Even if the head of his school really was a close inheritor of the Duke of Toussaint, placing the white iris of Temeria on Allen's family crest would be a bit too much. Faced with the Witcher's firm refusal, Arthur didn't insist and only expressed his disappointment.
The whole matter of the title kept them busy for most of the day, leaving no time for lunch.
It wasn't until dusk that everything was finally complete.
"Wait, Allen—there's something I haven't given you yet."
After they'd had dinner at a tavern and Allen was about to head back to the temple, Arthur suddenly called out to him.
Allen watched as Arthur pulled a familiar leather slip from his chest pocket and handed it over.
"This is Duke Mason's thanks," Arthur said with a smile.
Taking the special leather note, Allen opened it, and immediately took a sharp breath.
It was indeed a certificate from the Vivaldi Bank, but it was for an amount he had never seen before—20,000 orens in full.
Even after splitting this with Vesemir and Lady Vera, it was still a substantial sum.
Including the 3,000 orens for his "participation" in the May Day celebrations, the old Duke had rewarded him nearly 10,000 orens already. And that didn't even count the money for specter oil.
Allen had originally thought that the knight title was the Duke's entire reward, which, while difficult to measure, was highly valuable. After all, the knighthood came with a sword, a shield bearing his crest, spurs, and a cloak made of fine fabric or silk.
In purely monetary terms, these items alone might be worth three to four thousand orens.
Not to mention that a knight title itself was something that countless merchants would gladly pay tens of thousands of orens for, yet couldn't obtain. After all, stepping into this circle meant entering the nobility, a change in class, and even the potential for advancement. And yet, it turned out that this was not all.
"Master Vesemir and Lady Vera's portion of gratitude has been delivered separately—this is exclusively yours," Arthur added.
Hmm?
Allen froze.
What?! The whole 20,000 orens is for me?
Duke Mason's gratitude was truly straightforward and generous.
"The Duke is indeed generous!" Allen, recovering from the shock of the sum, expressed his gratitude without any thought of refusal.
After all…
Though the gratitude was substantial, he had indeed done much for the May Day festival.
"Duke Mason has always been generous with those who have talent and contribute to Ellander and Temeria," Arthur said, hinting once more, as he had done so many times that day.
However…
Allen, loyal to his role as a dedicated Witcher of the Wolf School, could only feign ignorance to Arthur's hints about fully aligning himself with the Duke, and thanked him sincerely:
"The Duke's generosity is truly remarkable. Please convey my thanks."
"I will." Arthur, noting the implicit refusal, nodded with a sigh of regret before departing.
Watching Arthur's figure disappear, Allen turned and made his way toward the temple.
As he passed the boundary between the temple district and the lower town, he found himself wandering outside the city gates.
The rain had stopped.
In the now clear sky, a golden rainbow shone. However, the ground remained muddy and filled with puddles.
In the distance…
Under the setting sun, the figure of a grieving person knelt alone in the mud, as unmoving as a stubborn stone. Allen's steps faltered. His natural sympathy urged him to do something. But after taking a few steps, he stopped again.
After some thought, he went over to the city guard, left them a hundred orens, and asked them to watch over the person.
Then he strode off.
-------------------
Back at the temple, Allen didn't seek out the others but went directly to the statue room.
He stood silently in front of the three saint statues, their kindly, gentle features appearing worn in the dim light. After a long while, he finally took a deep breath, pulling himself out of a strange emotion.
Allen touched the banknote he had placed over his heart.
The Duke's determination to seek revenge on the Wild Hunt was firm.
Without needing any additional persuasion or the efforts he had planned for before May Day, Allen had naturally gained a steadfast ally. It was an ideal development he hadn't dared to dream of before arriving in Ellander.
Of course, the cost was unexpectedly high—though not one he would personally pay.
The Duke, the mysterious Quenn family, the Voluta family, and the enigmatic Ivar the Evil Eye…
The alliance against the Wild Hunt had grown rapidly in just a few weeks.
In both past writings and games, it was said that the arrival of the Wild Hunt would bring the world-ending White Frost. Thus, for Allen, his school, and every intelligent being in this world, the growing strength against the Wild Hunt was undeniably a positive thing.
"Undoubtedly a good thing!" Allen stressed as he looked at the stone sculptures.
The statues of the three saints remained silent, their expressions gentle yet serene.
As though they were mocking him—or perhaps pitying him.
After a long pause, Allen sank to the ground, feeling a quiet sense of melancholy.
Much later…
Once the sun had fully set and the statue room had plunged into total darkness, Allen seemed to awaken, remembering the night's plan.
With a thought, he opened his Witcher's Journal.
"Ding! Do you wish to spend 100 experience orbs to use divine dreamwalking [Melitele]?"
Warning: Communion with a deity may pose significant risks. Please use caution!
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📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
291. The Death of Gods, the End of the World.
292. The Saviour, the Chosen One.
293. A Color Brighter than Gold.
294. Who Am I?
295. Time to Go Home.