Vilgefortz's voice was like a resounding horn, his words like those of a master lecturer. The mysterious incantations he chanted reverberated through the desolate wilderness the moment the first syllable was uttered, immediately summoning loyal spectators—magical energy.
Allen withdrew his hands, which had been forming the Quen Sign, and for the first time, he truly felt the emotions of the elements.
They gathered, listened, cheered, and exulted...
The magical fluctuations induced by these emotions resonated with Vilgefortz's increasingly fervent voice, so immense that even the air began to distort.
"Buzz~"
The Wolf Medallion throbbed violently, issuing a dire warning.
'We can't let him complete the incantation!'
Allen glanced at the ten-meter-long stone wall blocking his path.
A fierce glint flashed in his eyes.
As he charged toward the three-meter-high stone wall, he drew upon his abundant internal magic, bending his right middle finger and thrusting it forward sharply.
Aard Sign.
A transparent, invisible surge of kinetic energy formed in his palm and shot out in an instant, slamming into the mottled, brown stone wall.
"Boom~"
"Crack~"
The wall was completely shattered by the immense force of the Aard Sign, toppling toward the direction of the chanting.
Dust, debris, and even shallow-rooted shrubs and grasses were blown away in an instant.
But Allen didn't wait for the wall to collapse fully. After the collision, he immediately leaped toward the second wall, aiming to disrupt Vilgefortz's chanting.
With a strong push off the ground, he landed on the tilting, nearly vertical stone wall.
"Thud~"
His left foot stomped heavily on the wall.
This step caused the massive, three-meter-high wall to tilt at least twenty degrees further.
Then, with just one more step, he darted upward along the wall at an incredible, gravity-defying speed, leaping into mid-air.
His piercing blue, predatory cat-like eyes locked onto Vilgefortz's stunned brown gaze from above.
Vilgefortz hadn't anticipated that Allen would take this route, momentarily stalling his chant before hastily speeding it up.
"Buzz!"
The Wolf Medallion trembled even more violently, emitting a humming sound that drowned out even the chiming of the starry emblem hanging from a white horse's reins.
Bright moonlight dimmed abruptly, as clouds blanketed the wilderness sky in under a second.
The world drew its curtain of darkness.
"Crackle~"
Thunder boomed.
The magical energy in the air grew so dense it felt solid, yet so volatile it seemed ready to explode.
Vilgefortz's incantation neared its climax.
It was hard to tell whether the witcher's sword would strike Vilgefortz first, or whether the mage's powerful spell would land upon the witcher's head.
Even if it were the former, however, Vilgefortz's body was shielded by magical barriers of blue, green, and purple hues. Breaking through them would not be easy.
Thus, the safest tactic for Allen would be to dodge while shielding himself with the Quen Sign.
But such a move would undoubtedly forfeit the offensive rhythm, allowing Vilgefortz to recover and potentially putting Allen at a disadvantage against the mage's relentless magical attacks.
'I'll gamble!'
Resolving himself, Allen gritted his teeth. Before landing from mid-air, he bent his knees in preparation.
As his upper body leaned forward and pointed toward Vilgefortz,
"Boom~"
He kicked off the ground with immense force. Like a bolt shot from a ballista, cold and lethal, he sliced through the air, aimed directly at Vilgefortz's fearful, wide-open eyes.
"Bang~"
The displaced air roared, exploding in his wake.
His speed surged ever faster, even halting the collapsing wall momentarily.
The stones beneath his feet fractured instantly, breaking away from the main structure and flying into the unoccupied wilderness.
"Boom~"
A lightning bolt tore through the heavens, thunder rumbling in its wake.
'Madman! This witcher is a lunatic!' Vilgefortz screamed internally in panic. 'Even if he doesn't know what kind of spell this is, does he not fear death in such a chaotic situation?'
Allen's youthful yet ruthless face grew larger in Vilgefortz's vision, causing him to hastily accelerate his chant in terror. So frantic was he that the glowing sphere he conjured, resembling a light spell, flickered unstably.
"Clang—"
The outermost, spherical blue barrier was struck by the silver sword's tip. It compressed inward momentarily under the immense force, then shattered with a "Bang", scattering into beautiful, shimmering blue fragments that dissolved into the air.
This was Aretuza's Water Shield.
With no resistance, Allen did not pause to draw back and reposition himself into a Cat or Wolf School combat stance.
Instead, he let out a low grunt, forcing his heart to pump rapidly, his blood surging. The properties of the ghoul decoction coursing through him took effect immediately.
His adrenal glands secreted a torrent of adrenaline almost instantaneously.
Veins bulged across his body, faintly visible.
"Whoosh!"
The silver sword shot forward at a speed far exceeding its prior strike, stabbing directly toward Vilgefortz's throat amidst his horrified gaze.
"Clang—"
The familiar green glow, the familiar explosion, the familiar Aard-repelling shockwave...
Vilgefortz's magical shields now flickered only with the final purple hue.
In less than two seconds, Aretuza's Water Shield and the green magical barrier had both been destroyed.
This caused Vilgefortz to lose his initial elegance and composure, retreating in panic as though he could escape the witcher's relentless sword.
To be fair, Vilgefortz's innate talent and courage as a mage were extraordinary.
Had it been any ordinary sorcerer facing the razor-sharp, relentless strikes of a witcher's sword, they would have likely lost control due to fear, failing to complete their spell.
Yet, before Vilgefortz could take a single step back, Allen used the residual blast from the repelled shockwave to spin his body. The silver sword, like a whip, curved through the air before slashing toward Vilgefortz's throat once more.
"@#￥——"
Vilgefortz's chanting reached a feverish pace, so fast it became a sharp, grating screech. Unfortunately, he failed to release his spell before the sword reached his throat.
"Crackle~"
When the silver sword struck the purple glow closest to Vilgefortz's skin, a burst of electricity flashed at the point of contact.
Allen was instantly repelled.
The witcher felt a tingling numbness travel through the hilt into his hand, though it was so faint he merely shook his hand before returning to normal.
Drawing back his sword, he prepared to attack again, intending to shatter the final two quick-trigger gems on Vilgefortz's barrier and interrupt his spell.
"Argh!"
Vilgefortz roared, his eyes bloodshot with fury, as he thrust his glowing green staff toward the heavens. The wildly surging magical energy around them abruptly vanished.
The world fell into an eerie silence.
Allen frowned, his sword swing pausing instinctively as he glanced skyward.
"Boom~"
A massive bolt of white-hot lightning descended, carrying searing heat as it struck directly.
-----------------------
"Boom!"
Vesemir turned toward the noise, just in time to see his apprentice engulfed in a blinding flash of lightning.
"Allen!"
The witcher master called out in alarm.
The sorceress, gasping for breath, seized the opportunity to conjure a head-sized rock, striking Vesemir and sending him sprawling into the overgrown weeds.
"Did Vilgefortz win?"
The sorceress took a deep breath, gazing joyfully toward the battlefield now shrouded in smoke and lightning.
She had been preoccupied with defending against the Witcher Master's relentless attacks, leaving him no energy to focus on the situation unfolding with Vilgefortz.
"What am I even thinking? He's just a fourteen-year-old Witcher. Vilgefortz will definitely win."
Rustle~
There was a sound from the grass where the Witcher Master had fallen.
The sorceress quickly snapped back to attention, gritting her teeth as she hurled fireballs recklessly in that direction.
"Vilgefortz has already taken care of his fight. I must not lag too far behind!"
At this moment—
Boom~
Another lightning bolt, as thick as a descending white dragon, struck into the hazy dust cloud.
Huff~ Huff~
Vilgefortz covered his mouth, gasping for breath as he stepped back, staring at the burning, dust-filled battlefield before him.
"The Alzur's Thunder... To die under a spell created by Alzur, the mage who invented Witchers, would be a worthy death."
"But..." Vilgefortz glanced at the sky. "The casting was disrupted. It should have been seven thunderbolts, but only two fell this time."
"That... that Witcher is utterly insane..."
Vilgefortz wiped the sweat from his brow, uneasily casting another blue magical shield around himself.
He refused to believe that Allen—or any Witcher, for that matter—could survive in such circumstances.
After all...
Though he had been pressed in battle moments ago, upon reflection, this young Witcher Master named Allen was merely skilled in swordsmanship and had taken advantage of the flow of combat.
Young, with excellent swordsmanship, inevitably meant his Signs were weak.
An impulsive, reckless brute. What could he possibly use to defend against Alzur's Thunder?
"Two bolts are enough. It's just unfortunate—"
"Unfortunate about what?" A clear male voice suddenly rang out from the dust.
Vilgefortz's expression changed dramatically. His lips parted, and he instinctively raised his metal staff.
Clang!
Caught off guard, the staff was struck by a silver sword slashing through the dust, and it clattered to the ground.
"You—"
He couldn't even finish his sentence.
The sword that had disarmed him reappeared, thrusting with immense power into his throat.
In the horrifying shock that gripped Vilgefortz, he felt a cold sensation at his neck.
Clang!
Bang!
The blue magical barrier shattered again, blasting away the dust and debris that the lightning strike had stirred up, revealing the Witcher's figure.
The disguise granted by the Dimeritium Amulet had been stripped away by the lightning, revealing the glowing red dragonhide armor of the Wolf School Master set.
If not for the smoldering molten ground behind him, still bearing the scorch marks of the lightning strike that seemed to alter the very weather, it would have been hard to believe such a catastrophic spell had even occurred.
"Impossible!" Vilgefortz exclaimed in shock.
Even if the spell's power was diminished due to rushed casting, Alzur's Thunder was a legendary spell created by Alzur, known for leveling half of Maribor. It was as infamous as his double-cross spell.
How could a Witcher, with only a shallow grasp of magic—basic Signs—survive unscathed?
How was this possible?
But he didn't have time to dwell on his frustration and confusion.
The Witcher's silver sword gleamed once again, coming for his life.
"Damn it!"
His failure to eliminate his opponent with the spell had disrupted his plan.
Vilgefortz was now completely flustered. His expression twisted as he tried to retreat while attempting to chant another spell. His left hand instinctively reached for the last two gemstones embedded in his chest, his eyes darting toward the staff still rolling on the ground...
But his flurry of actions only resulted in more chaos. He was too panicked to accomplish anything, and he stumbled, nearly falling.
Ding~
Vilgefortz was struck in the left chest.
One more gem shattered from his black formal attire.
This time, however, the emerald released a magical barrier that didn't shatter on impact. Instead, it glowed green briefly before disappearing into his clothing.
The Witcher's strength seemed to have diminished...
Of course, it had!
Alzur's Thunder was a spell created by Alzur. In the original tales, even powerful sorceresses like Yennefer and Triss failed to cast it together.
The first bolt had pierced through two of Allen's protective Quen shields outright.
No!
It was more like two and a half layers because the third was on the verge of breaking.
Frightened, Allen had activated Blizzard at the fastest speed and prepared to use Blink at a moment's notice.
Blink, a spatial ability unique to the Elder Blood carrier Ciri, was impossible for even Mages to learn. If Allen revealed it, it could bring significant trouble. Thus, unless absolutely necessary and unless he was sure he could kill all witnesses, Allen avoided using this ability.
When he attempted to cast Quen again, the second bolt of lightning had already struck.
Luckily, the bullet-time effect of Blizzard allowed him to shift position in time, and he narrowly avoided the weakened second strike of Alzur's Thunder.
The final Quen shield shattered simultaneously, breaking the Dimeritium Amulet's disguise on his armor.
Debris from the ground, scattered by the impact, sliced shallow cuts into his exposed skin, including his sword hand.
Had it not been for his magically enhanced vitality, which surpassed that of drowners, an ordinary Witcher might have been gravely injured.
The regenerative effects of the Alghoul Decoction ended instantly due to the small wounds, nullifying its 20% boost to strength, agility, and other attributes. Naturally, his strength was reduced considerably.
But at this point, it hardly mattered.
There was no need to consume White Honey to clear the effects and take another potion.
Vilgefortz's defensive layers were nearly depleted...
As the Witcher landed a strike and prepared for the next, he glanced at Vilgefortz.
The final obsidian gem on Vilgefortz's attire was barely holding his dignity together. His formalwear billowed awkwardly under the gusts of wind, making him look utterly disheveled.
At this moment, the usually composed and elegant Vilgefortz had no energy left to maintain appearances.
He was faced with only one question—
To live or to die?
Clang!
Bang!
The blue magical barrier shattered once more.
This time, it didn't even slow Allen down as he expertly used the momentum of the impact to launch another charge.
Only one magical gem remained.
But as the fight reached this critical juncture, Allen became even more cautious.
"Something's off with Vilgefortz. Why is he still holding back at this point? Just for the sake of appearances?"
The Witcher was perplexed.
Though it seemed as if Vilgefortz was utterly overwhelmed, the sorcerer still held a trump card.
Artefact compression spell.
The seven statues of young Witchers were likely still in his possession. Vilgefortz was far from helpless; he could have destroyed a few of them.
Why hadn't he done so yet?
Vilgefortz wasn't the type to hold back due to moral principles.
Could it be...
"Could it be that the statues of the Witchers are no longer in his hands?" Allen tightened his grip on Elsa, his brow furrowing.
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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348. The Surge of Primal Chaos.
349. Elder Blood and the Miracle Child's source.
350. The Royal Griffin! The Royal Griffin!
351. Druid Allen?
352. The Royal Griffin!!!