"Master Mage, this is Banra Mill."
The hunched guide pointed hesitantly at the shadow bathed in moonlight.
The waterwheel churned noisily, stirring the river like a monster lurking in the darkness, breathing and waiting for its prey to walk willingly into its gaping maw.
This eerie atmosphere made the already timid guide step back in fear.
"Huff~"
The warhorse snorted, sending a puff of warm air onto the exposed side of the guide's neck, almost making him cry out in alarm.
"Move aside!"
A guard rebuked him disdainfully, shoving the guide away with the heavy scabbard of his sword.
"Whoosh~"
With a sound of rushing wind, a few glowing orbs floated outward, scattering around the mill. Suddenly, they flared brightly, illuminating the mill as if it were broad daylight.
A bald sorcerer opened his eyes. "No drowners…"
Sunny nodded.
Soon, the group dismounted and approached the mill on horseback.
The guards, having received protective enchantments from the sorcerers, began systematically checking the rooms within the mill, ensuring that no creatures were hiding in the corners, ready to launch a surprise attack.
Before long, the guards returned, leading several mages to the granary.
"All the drowners in the mill have been eliminated, leaving only these bloodstains," one of the guards said, pointing at the dark reddish-brown stains on the ground.
The mages nodded, showing no surprise.
Ordinary people couldn't handle even low-level monsters, but mercenaries skilled enough to roam the lands and sell their martial prowess would naturally have no trouble dealing with a group of drowners.
Sunny studied the granary and gently ordered, "Frazer, John, Austin, you three set up the banishment ritual…"
Three mages from the group immediately stepped forward.
One retrieved supplies like salt, chalk, enchanted dust, and two small jars of yellow liquid from the saddle pouches handed over by the guards.
Another began calculating the most suitable location in the mill to set up the ritual.
The third, accompanied by two guards, went outside the mill to gather appropriate wood for the ritual.
In no time, Sunny's surroundings became much quieter.
After lingering in place for a moment, his gaze remained fixed on the foul, bloody stains covering the ground.
"Everything's been taken care of?" Sunny asked without looking up.
"Not a scrap of flesh remains, only the bloodstains," one of the guards who had searched the rooms replied in tacit understanding.
Following the trail of blood, Sunny led two guards to the riverbank.
The illumination spell, after all, was not true sunlight.
The surface of the flowing river was dimly lit, reflecting tiny, floating specks of plankton. However, the deeper waters remained a pitch-black abyss.
The damp air carried the faint, distinct smell of riverweed as it brushed against their faces.
One of the guards noticed how close the mage's shoes were to the edge of the riverbank—barely two fingers' width away—and couldn't help but warn, "Lord Sunny, perhaps you should step back from the water…"
"Would mercenaries preparing for the battlefield really clean up the corpses this thoroughly?"
"It… doesn't seem necessary…" The guard, startled by the question, hesitated before adding, "After we deal with the drowners, we usually leave the cleaning to the retainers who take over the area."
"You think something's amiss?"
The idle mage, Miguel, approached.
Sunny didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "Miguel, do you have Fifth Essence, white myrtle petals, pearls, moon fragments, and berbercane fruits?"
"Water divination…" Miguel's expression betrayed his astonishment. "Sunny, are you serious?"
"Do you have them?"
"These are standard ritual materials, but Fifth Essence and moon fragments are…"
"I'll add it to the budget for my projects when we return."
"Tsk, tsk… all this for a bunch of mercenaries…" Miguel clicked his tongue. "Want me to help with the setup?"
"Go ahead!" Sunny replied.
Then, as if recalling something, he glanced at the mages setting up the banishment ritual in the distance and added, "Set it up right here!"
---------------------
The silver sword, the spinning movements, the rippling energy…
Within the mystical circle, the water formed a grayish mirror. In the hazy reflection, groups of drowners were being slain under the blade.
Though their faces were obscured, the absurd spinning swordplay and clumsy elemental tricks unmistakably identified their nature.
Witchers!
And not just any witchers—wolves of the School of the Wolf!
Sunny's gaze grew colder as the realization sank in. His eyes, fixed on the watery mirror, glinted like a venomous serpent's, locked on its prey.
The more he dwelled on the implications of their presence, the more his blood boiled, fiery anger searing through his once-proud rationality.
"Those freaks have some nerve!" Miguel's temples bulged, the humiliation of a lion being taunted by mangy dogs evident in his expression.
"Clang~"
An orange-yellow portal suddenly appeared.
"Where are you going?" Sunny blocked Miguel's path.
"They dare play tricks in front of us! I'm heading back to notify the headmaster and send reinforcements…"
"The headmaster won't send anyone. Now's not the time for that," Sunny said coldly.
Miguel froze, his expression darkening further.
Given the headmaster's current stance toward the radicals, he was more likely to reprimand Miguel than assign resources to confront the witchers.
"Those freaks can't have gone far. We could still…"
"The task of clearing the drowners isn't finished," Sunny interrupted, glancing toward the granary where the other mages had begun looking over. With a wave, he dispelled the portal. "We won't be leaving for the next few days, and the headmaster is keeping the rest of our faction on a tight leash."
"Then what?" Miguel suppressed his fury as he noticed another mage approaching from the granary. "We just let those sneaky pests slip away under our noses?"
Sunny's eyes flickered at the remark.
"The headmaster is only targeting us radicals for now."
"What do you mean? The other factions won't listen to us…"
"Not the other factions," Sunny corrected, shaking his head and quickening his speech as the mage drew closer. "A newly arrived mage from the Circle of Druids in Kovir—practical, powerful, and sympathetic to our cause."
"Go back when you have the chance and ask him to track those witchers."
Miguel paused before nodding. "What's his name?"
"Vilgefortz of Roggeveen…"
-------------------
Clouds drifted across the moon, casting intermittent light over the land, bathing the grass, moat, towering walls, and forest of spires in a pale glow and shadow.
Riders sped through the wind.
"They didn't follow!" A young voice exclaimed, breaking the tense silence.
The two lead riders glanced back.
The road behind them lay empty.
The forest they had passed was now obscured by another, beyond which lay villages, rivers, and the looming shadow of a distant city…
They had put enough distance between themselves and the unnamed mill.
The mares let out wheezing, rasping breaths.
Exchanging glances, the lead riders nodded.
They pulled on the reins, and the mares slowed their frantic pace, gasping for air.
"Ha—"
"That was exhilarating!"
"Were those Ban Ard mages? Their eyes felt like they could suck out my soul… I nearly cast a Quen on reflex!"
"Didn't they say those mages can read minds? You weren't really…"
"I don't think so? I followed every bit of advice the commander and Vesemir gave before we left—empty your mind…"
"I agree! I agree!"
----------------
The apprentices relaxed and began to laugh and chatter noisily.
Hearing their voices, Allen's tightly wound nerves also loosened.
He donned his hood, strapped on his scabbard, and concealed his silver sword.
The disguise as a mercenary had proven effective.
Even when directly facing a sorcerer from Ban Ard, his identity wasn't exposed.
With a nudge of his heels, he spurred his black mare into a trot, matching Vesemir's pace.
The Witcher master didn't look pleased.
His lips were pressed into a tight line, and his brow furrowed deeply beneath the shadow of his hat.
"What's wrong?" Allen frowned. "Didn't we leave without trouble?"
"It's not that simple..." Vesemir's expression grew heavier.
He didn't explain immediately but glanced sideways at the young Witchers trailing behind. Seeing them still excitedly discussing the recent events, he turned back to Allen and lowered his voice so only the two of them could hear.
"I recognized the sorcerer who spoke."
"Who?" Allen asked instinctively.
"Sunny Walsh…"
At the mention of the name, Vesemir, usually affable and kind, showed a mix of resentment and worry he couldn't suppress.
"An expert in elemental magic and biological modification, the most promising candidate to succeed as the dean of Ban Ard Academy, a Council of Sorcerers power player, a hypocritical glory-seeker, leader of the faction that upholds human purity, and a staunch enemy of non-humans..."
Allen's expression grew more serious with each word.
After listing all those titles, Vesemir paused briefly, as if recalling something, his face darkening further:"Non-humans... including Witchers like us, who were once human."
"He served as the royal magic advisor in Kaedwen for a long time. Under his manipulation, the late King Henselt launched numerous wars against elves, dwarves, halflings, and other non-humans..."
"He won't hesitate to kill a Wolf School Witcher, regardless of the moral dilemmas it might bring to Ban Ard."
"More importantly..." Vesemir took a deep breath. "He's a very suspicious man."
Suspicious... Allen pressed his lips together. "You mean?"
"Exactly what you're thinking," Vesemir adjusted his wide-brimmed black hat and looked back at the towering city behind them. His voice was grave. "Even if we managed to deceive him for now, we should prepare for the possibility of being discovered and hunted."
Hearing this, Allen's face paled slightly.
Being hunted by a sorcerer wasn't something to take lightly.
Unlike the games and movies from his past life, where sorcerers were often glass cannons in close combat, powerful sorcerers in the world of Witchers were entirely different.
On the contrary, the stronger the sorcerer, the more they honed their close-combat skills.
In the original material from his past life, there was a male sorcerer who defeated Geralt, a battle-hardened Witcher, in two moves using only staff techniques and without magic, even breaking his thighbone.
Considering Geralt's status and abilities, he was at least on par with Vesemir in strength, possibly stronger due to his enhanced magical abilities from his bloodline.
The difference in power was staggering.
Even Allen, despite his progress, couldn't imagine defeating Vesemir in two strikes based solely on swordsmanship—not now, at least.
And that wasn't even touching on the sorcerers of this world—those weren't fictional. The memory of Vera's display upon his arrival, where she effortlessly turned thousands of drowners into leeches with a mere breath, was still vivid in his mind.
Even now, although Allen could hunt large monsters with ease, he had no desire to face sorcerers at this stage.
"Are you certain?" Allen tightened his grip on the saddle and took a deep breath.
"Not entirely…" Vesemir shook his head.
Before Allen could relax, he added, "But I don't believe Sunny's encounter with us was a coincidence."
"You're saying…"
"Don't forget about that mill…"
Allen froze at the reminder, any remaining sense of relief vanishing.
Of course…
Where would those sorcerers and the poor villager disguise be heading to?
The mill overrun with drowners still had several sacks of flour and piles of unprocessed wheat.
So...
Allen frowned and glanced back at the younger Witchers, who were still basking in the thrill of their recent "hide-and-seek" victory.
How could he quickly eliminate an experienced sorcerer?
His hand instinctively went to his belt, his fingers brushing the rough, cold hilt of Balmur.
No!
It might not just be those few sorcerers!
Wouldn't Ban Ard Academy also get involved?
Allen thought for a moment, then activated his Witcher's notebook with a thought.
[Hunting Quest: Drowners III (Kill 134/1000 drowners)]
[Hunting Quest: Foglets II (Kill 110/300 foglets)]
[Hunting Quest: Ghouls I (Kill 23/200 ghouls)]
----------------------
Every quest in the list was far from completion.
The most advanced one, unsurprisingly, was the drowner hunting quest.
That made sense.
Drowners, being indiscriminate about their habitat, were practically everywhere...
"But no," Allen shook his head internally. "The fusion event triggered by the second-stage drowner hunting quest was already enormous. As for the third stage..."
The swarms of drowners might turn into swarms of drowner kings and giant marsh wraiths.
Just imagining the scene made Allen shiver.
"No, no. Before I even manage to take down the sorcerers, I might not make it out myself..." He dismissed the idea, thinking, "At least not until my Blink and Portal spells are leveled up a few more times..."
"So..."
"Ghouls it is. Although the first and second-stage hunting quests combined require five or six hundred kills, the war-torn region of Vergen should have plenty of ghouls. That should be enough..."
While Allen was contemplating how to give Ban Ard a proper distraction, Vesemir noticed his distant gaze and changing expression. He assumed he'd piled too much pressure on him.
"Don't worry too much... things haven't reached their worst yet—not by a long shot..." Vesemir patted Allen on the shoulder lightly. "You're the fastest-growing Witcher I've ever seen. All you need is time."
"I'm confident that in another five or six years, you'll be able to take down sorcerers like Sunny with ease."
"But for now, we'll need to speed up our journey."
With that, before Allen could reply, Vesemir placed his hand on his horse's neck, feeling its pulse, and shouted back: "You little brats, have you rested enough?"
"No!"
"We just slowed down..."
"My thighs still hurt..."
Complaints echoed in response.
But Vesemir seemed to ignore them entirely, a faint smile on his lips.
"Good. Seems like you're all rested."
"Let's pick up the pace—we need to reach the walls of Aedirn by dawn!"
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
330. Ancient Blood or the Child of Miracles.
331. Crashing the Necrophage Party.
332. The Envoys of the God Kreve.
333. A Bountiful Harvest!
334. The Dwarf Princess in Need of Rescue.