The Fury of Being Fooled

"Um?"

"What happened to it?"

At Fred's exclamation, Ailin frowned as he stared at the empty ground.

He quickly climbed through the window into Huus's room and lit a candle.

Under the dim, flickering light, only the remnants of wooden windowpanes remained on the floor of the room.

The School of the Cat Witcher who had been knocked unconscious in Huus's room by Ailin also disappeared.

"She was rescued!"

Vesemir's voice came from behind him.

Ailin nodded slightly, without turning around.

In his vision, the messy and frivolous footprints transformed into neat red footprints at this moment.

Concentrate your mind.

The red footprints suddenly transformed into two blurry figures.

One of the figures bent down, lifted the unconscious School of the Cat Witcher, and jumped out of the window.

Vesemir is right. It wasn't that Ailin didn't control his strength well, and that the time he was unconscious was too short.

Instead, someone took advantage of the School of the Wolf witcher treating Bont to rescue the two School of the Cat hunters who had been knocked unconscious.

"It's alright," Vesemir reassured her. "Bont's life is the most important thing. As for the rescued... School of the Cat Witchers..."

"Staying here would also be a problem."

He sighed and patted Ailin on the shoulder.

"Those damned stray cats, they actually did such a despicable thing for the rewards of the fighting tournament..."

Vesemir cursed bitterly, glancing at the four witcher apprentices around him with lingering fear.

Four seasoned witchers versus four young witchers who have just passed their trials...

If Ailin's abilities weren't outside the School of the Cat's plans, he could hardly imagine what the scene would be like now.

No!

Ailin's voice interrupted Vesemir's thoughts.

"What do you mean it isn't?"

The Witcher Master asked instinctively.

"No, the reason those School of the Cat witchers attacked us wasn't because of the tournament rewards..."

Ailin paused, then stroked his chin with his right hand. "It's not entirely because of the rewards from the dueling tournament."

Why would you think that?

Vesemir glanced around.

Huus, Bont, and Fred looked completely bewildered, clearly knowing nothing.

"Although it's despicable, given the wicked nature of those School of the Cat, the king's two gifts are indeed enough to make them take the risk!"

"Vesemir said."

"After all, my commission today is simply to kill a Witcher apprentice from the School of the Wolf."

After muttering something to himself, Ailin looked solemnly at the Witcher Master and said:

"Master Vesemir, this is what the School of the Cat witcher in Bont's room said when he had the upper hand in the battle."

Upon hearing this, Vesemir's expression also turned serious. "A commission?"

"Yes, Master Vesemir."

"This attack was commissioned, not ordered by the School of the Cat to the attackers."

After he finished speaking, the narrow room fell into a deathly silence.

Vesemir lowered his head in thought.

The young witchers, sensing the tension, fell silent.

A deathly silence lasted for a long time.

Both Ailin and Vesemir had the same question in their minds.

Since this is a commission, then the commission is for the School of the Cat witchers to attack their people...

Who is it?

With a dark expression, Vesemir and Ailin exchanged a glance, and both had the same answer in their hearts.

However, they didn't say it in front of Huus, Bont, and Fred.

Then.

The Witcher Master sighed softly, stood up, and said:

"I'll go downstairs and reassure Bob and Mary. After you tidy up your rooms, go straight to my room to rest."

Back in his room, Ailin glanced at the corpses lying in a pool of blood. Instead of cleaning them up, he sat on the bed and mentally opened the Witcher's Handbook.

[Slay the Monster Horde "Demon Hunter" Lv36!]

[Rewards Settlement: Victory over the Enemy, Base Rating D, Killing a Level Above the Enemy +3 - C, Decapitation Intimidation +3 - B]

Final rating: B

[Loot obtained: 2 Demon Hunter Memories, 9 Experience Orbs, 4 Witcher's Chest]

Monster hordes, "Witchers"?

As Ailin reviewed the system messages from the end of the campaign, he felt a strange mix of emotions.

According to the criteria in Witcher's Handbook's Notes, are Demon Hunters, who are the same kind of hosts, also considered monsters?

What isn't a monster?

Humans?

Ailin shook his head sharply, banishing a terrible thought that suddenly flashed through his mind, and looked directly at the spoils of war.

"The Witcher's memories?"

The new type of loot caught him off guard for a moment, but Ailin didn't hesitate.

Once your mind jumps to the inventory, use it directly.

"Sizzle~"

Suddenly, a piercing, strange sound came to my mind, like sandpaper rubbing against glass.

Immediately afterward, the young witcher lost his balance.

After a moment of disorientation, Ailin suddenly appeared in the setting sun, in a dimly lit forest clearing.

To be precise.

It was in the forest, on a thin, long rope tied between two trees.

Where... where is this?

Ailin was stunned, and asked in surprise in a soft voice, but strangely, she didn't hear her own voice.

Um?

What happened?

"Brad, grip your sword tighter!"

A sudden roar from behind interrupted Ailin's thoughts.

He instinctively turned his head and saw a witcher carrying two swords.

The witcher stared with a pair of yellow, cloudy Cat Eyes unique to cat-like witchers, wearing a light blue-black armor, and holding... a riding whip in his hand.

"Smack!"

A sudden, sharp pain shot through my back.

Ailin's pupils dilated suddenly, and in his anger, he was about to jump down to teach the witcher a lesson.

But after he cried out in pain, his gaze suddenly shifted to the view in front of him.

He can't control his body!

No!

This is not his body.

It was only then that Ailin realized he was in the Witcher's memories, in the past of Brett, whom he had killed.

"This is so real."

He stared in shock at everything in his field of vision.

The dim sunlight, the towering trees that blocked out the sky, and a small gray bird perched on a slender branch, staring at him...

Not only that!

Take a closer look...

The cool breeze on my neck, and the burning pain from being whipped...

Is this the "memory of the Witcher"?

"Smack!"

Another lash.

"Brett, don't get distracted, practice your swordsmanship seriously!"

The stern voice of a middle-aged man came from behind again.

"Ailin" stood upright on the swaying rope, relentlessly thrusting his "heavy" longsword forward.

at the same time.

The muscles in the soles of the feet and calves trembled rhythmically as the legs, which were on the thin rope, clashed with the vibrations transmitted from the upper body when stabbing, thus stabilizing the body.

This is the swordsmanship of the School of the Cat.

Ailin thought to himself.

This is the source of Brad's confidence in landing easily and steadily on the edge of a windowsill less than a hand's width wide with a backflip.

With that in mind, Ailin tried hard to remember where Brett's muscles were engaged.

Swordsmanship is not easy to learn.

Without guidance, you can only learn a rough outline by watching.

Some key tips are often not visible from the outside.

The rhythm of breathing that coordinates with certain movements, the movement of a small muscle hidden deep within the body...

Just like the School of the Wolf's rotation is not simply a matter of spinning and dancing.

The techniques of footwork, muscle control, breathing, and even anticipation—many subtle tricks that are not immediately apparent—are what have enabled the School of the Wolf to leave behind countless monster corpses beneath their silver swords.

therefore.

Although he didn't know if this memory was meant to allow him to learn the School of the Cat's swordsmanship.

However, if he wants to learn this sword technique, and there is no option to activate the skill using Experience Orbs, he must try his best to remember everything his body feels.

"Call!"

Another swift, straight thrust pierced through the air.

It pierced directly from autumn into winter, piercing into a white snowflake falling from the sky.

After a moment of stunned silence, the time it took for the scenery to change before my eyes to accelerate rapidly.

He spent countless sunrises and sunsets practicing swordsmanship with other children on thin ropes in this forest.

Then fewer and fewer of his peers remained on the thin ropes around him, and more and more unfamiliar faces appeared.

In the end.

Another moment of disorientation, and a strong smell of rust filled my nostrils.

The tall trees, the child, and the thin rope all disappeared, leaving only a lone lamp beside the pool of blood, flickering with a faint candlelight.

Near the ear.

The sounds of washing and dragging came from Huus's room.

[Ding! Spend 1000 Lesser Experience Orbs to unlock the skill: School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword?]

1000 Lesser Experience Orbs?

So little?

Wrong!

Just like unlocking alchemy and ritual skills, this Witcher's memory likely reduced the original unlocking cost.

Ailin nodded, confirming it with his mind.

There's no reason to hesitate; for a long time to come, his and the School of the Wolf's main enemy will likely be humanity.

The School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword is very important to both him and the School of the Wolf.

A flood of information rushed into my mind.

In that instant, Ailin seemed to have practiced swordsmanship on a thin rope for seven or eight years, just like Brett.

A few seconds later, the memory transfer ended.

Then Ailin used the memories of another Witcher.

A moment later.

[Ding! Your School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword LV1 has been upgraded to School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword LV3 (2410/2500)]

Opening her eyes from her memories, Ailin's face was ashen. Suppressing her anger, she gritted her teeth and cursed:

"Damn it! Those School of the Cat witchers are a bunch of bastards."

On the hillside outside the Hundred Fruit Garden.

"Thump~"

The two men in black were thrown heavily to the ground and then slowly woke up.

"W-what happened?"

One of the witchers covered the back of his head, looking bewildered.

"You were knocked unconscious?"

"By an apprentice..."

The standing figure glanced in the direction of the Hundred Fruit Garden and said softly.

"How... how is this possible?"

"How could that be?" The figure didn't turn around, his tone tinged with disdain. "Knocked unconscious? How could an apprentice possibly knock you unconscious?"

In the deep, heavy darkness, another witcher who had been thrown to the ground stood up, his voice also filled with disbelief.

"Guksat!"

"Do you really think we could be knocked out by a bunch of newly trained witcher apprentices?"

"It's clear that those of the School of the Wolf were prepared all along."

Guksat's expression turned somewhat unpleasant upon hearing this.

He found it hard to understand why such a favorable situation had turned out this way.

The Witcher Master was most likely to make a mistake, was stopped by him and his companions.

Why would four seasoned School of the Cat Witchers encounter problems against four School of the Wolf apprentices who have just passed their School Trials?

Shouldn't it be steady and decisive, with everything under control?

Of the four, Fredika and Brett were only slightly weaker than him in terms of strength.

But now,

They didn't even save their lives.

The thought of Brett's severed head lying alone in a cold pool of blood sent chills down Guksat's spine.

To execute one's own kind by beheading...

Was the one who killed Brett really the weak School of the Wolf witcher known for his neutrality?

"Etc!"

"Where are Brett and Fredika?"

The School of the Cat demon hunters, who had just gotten up from the ground, counted the number of people and asked in confusion.

"We might have problems, but they can't possibly have problems!"

"They're all dead!" Guksat whispered.

"What!"

The two School of the Cat Witchers stared in disbelief at Guksat.

The man in black beside Guksat glanced timidly at the Hundred Fruit Garden in the darkness and said:

"After Guksat and I heard a shout coming from the room next door that Fredika was in charge of, we realized that the plan might have gone wrong."

"Then a few minutes later, Fredika suddenly went silent, and we took the opportunity to disengage from the fight."

"Then..."

The man in black suddenly stopped.

"And then what?" the two School of the Cat witchers asked impatiently.

The man in black swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly as he said:

"Then we rescued the two of you from the hotel, and in the very last room, we found Brett lying there, his body dismembered..."

The two School of the Cat Witchers, still somewhat resentful from being ambushed, had just been thinking things like, "The School of the Wolf Witchers are too merciful; they only knocked them out."

I immediately felt a strong chill that seeped from my tailbone directly to my scalp.

Generally, only when the difference in strength is too great is it possible for a killing method such as decapitation to occur in a battle.

For someone with such capabilities, both arteries and the heart are better and easier entry points.

after all.

The human neck is concave and protected by a hard skull.

Therefore, this method of death is more like a deterrent.

To deter these attackers.

"Damn it!"

"Guksat, we've been tricked!"

"Who commissioned this order? Who provided the information?"

"They're either in cahoots with the School of the Wolf, or they're deliberately watching us go to our deaths, hoping that we'll fight the School of the Wolf's witchers to the death and weaken our school's strength."

"Otherwise, if we had known that there were such experts among these demon hunters, how could we have only sent such a small number of people?"

"Guksat!"

"Who exactly commissioned us to hunt down these School of the Wolf witchers?"

The moonlight, obscured by dark clouds, robbed the earth of its last remaining faint glow.

Faced with questions from his fellow scholars, Guksat gazed into the distance at the only bright spot in the center of the Hundred Fruit Garden, his murky, dark yellow Cat Eyes flickering with uncertainty.

He turned around.

The rage of the School of the Cat witchers could not be contained even in the pitch-black darkness.

then.

After a few seconds of silence, a similar anger of being fooled ignited in his eyes, and he gritted his teeth and said:

"King!"

"The one who commissioned us to hunt down the School of the Wolf witchers is the master of this land beneath our feet..."

"King of Kedwen — Haxor!"