The Seven Missing Witchers

"Ailin, that..."

Vesemir hadn't finished speaking.

"Rumble~"

A deep, eerie sound resonated within my heart, and my palpitations intensified suddenly, as if a sleeping dragon had opened its eyes and was searching for the uninvited guest.

"Buzz~"

The Wolf Emblem buzzed violently.

After a while, the aurora, the strange noise, and the palpitations all stopped at the same time.

Vesemir glanced at Ailin, his expression grave.

He had seen the aurora borealis, in the polar snowfields further north than the Dragon Mountains of Hengfors, a place he had only visited once in the last hundred years by ship for a specific commission.

The shimmering light in the sky was like the lightest, softest gauze, but such a magnificent sight would never appear in Ard or Kedwen.

Moreover, there was the indescribable intense palpitation and strange noise.

This must be magic!

What kind of magic and battle could produce such power to alter the celestial phenomena?

Vesemir frowned and took out an atlas to gesture.

The charcoal pencils dotted the path, moving straight from their current position in the direction of the aurora, passing through many cities and villages along the way.

But without realizing it, the black pen tip kept drawing until it reached the edge of the atlas page before stopping.

That place is the city of male witches—Ban Ade.

"It must be Ben Ade," Ailin said, gazing at the sky.

The low-hanging sky seemed to still retain a distorted, dark red light.

The long-awaited event seems to have finally occurred: the Wild Hunt has turned its attention to another enemy of the School of the Wolf.

But at this moment, Ailin felt no joy whatsoever.

"Ban Ade..." Vesemir murmured, "Are you sure? It's at least a thousand kilometers away from here..."

"What kind of spell can have such an amazing effect even at a distance of a thousand kilometers?"

Ailin remained silent and did not answer.

He knew that Vesemir didn't really want an answer.

The Witcher Master felt a dryness in his throat.

Ailin's judgment was usually correct, but at this moment he genuinely didn't want to believe this possibility.

If it really was Ben Ade who made the noise, then it would prove that Ailin's statement was correct all along.

The Wild Hunt is really after his apprentice!

Thinking about what happened to Gors Velen and Arland, and then about the strange phenomenon I just witnessed...

Regardless of which source caused the aurora, the strange noises, or the palpitations, it all demonstrated that the Skeleton Knight flying in the sky were so powerful that it was despair-inducing.

"We still have time, Master Vesemir, we still have time," Ailin took a deep breath. "Ernesto went to invite Iva the Evil Eye of the School of the Viper. They should be in Naser by now. If all goes well, we should be able to see them before May next year."

"He spent his whole life thinking about how to deal with the Wild Hunt, so he must have some ideas."

"Duke Mason of Arland hates the Wild Hunt, Temeria stands with us."

"After this incident, not only will the northern countries see the threat from the Wild Hunt, but the Brotherhood of Sorcerers certainly not let the attack on Ban Aard Academy go unnoticed..."

Ailin looked at Vesemir with a firm gaze:

"Today, Ban Ade will face the Wild Hunt and will inevitably suffer heavy casualties. In addition, with the war with Ard, there will be even fewer hostile eyes to be cast on the School."

"Ernie and Klar have improved their strength quite quickly. When we return to Kaer Morhen, at least twenty more apprentices will be able to pass the Trial of the Mountains."

"Time is on our side."

Vesemir was persuaded, and his furrowed brow relaxed.

"Never mind all that, Ben Ade is too far away from us," he nodded, then turned and walked toward the inn. "Let's see how those brats are doing in Quen practice. If they dare to slack off, I'll make them pay!"

Vesemir spoke cheerfully, as if the upheaval that might be happening in Ban Ade was truly none of their concern.

However, he did not notice.

The moment he turned around, the look of relief on Ailin's face vanished as he said, "Time is on our side."

His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out.

"Time..."

Some people sighed inwardly.

"Squeak~"

The old, dilapidated door at the entrance of the hotel creaked and groaned.

The recent upheaval did not affect the atmosphere in the tavern.

The ale in the glasses remained undisturbed, and the drinkers chatted idly about trivial matters in the village. An elderly woman was still wiping the dishes, and when she saw the two witchers enter, her numb expression turned obsequious again.

"Tonight we have fresh mushroom soup, cheese, rye bread, fried bread cubes, and jerky..."

"Didn't you feel... uh... something strange just now?" Vesemir interrupted in surprise.

The elderly woman unconsciously wiped her hands on her gray cloth robe, her expression blank. "Changes? What changes?"

"Nothing much," Vesemir and Ailin exchanged a glance and shook their heads. "Fried white bread cubes, cheese, and mushroom soup, prepare nine servings and bring them up in a bit."

"Alright!" The woman instantly forgot the strange question from before and beamed with joy.

These three items are the most expensive in the store.

He watched the woman's back as she lifted the curtain behind the counter, then glanced at the other people in the hotel.

As Vesemir carried a candle lamp from the bottom of the stairs toward the top, he tilted his head and whispered:

"It seems that only those with magical powers could sense that strange noise just now."

"Perhaps it's some kind of mental magic, or maybe it's some kind of change related to the nature of the elements..."

"The impact may not be as great as we imagine."

Ailin nodded.

If ordinary people don't perceive that obvious abnormality, the reactions of nobles and kings might indeed be much slower, leading to many unpredictable changes.

"That red light in the sky lasted for quite a while."

"Ordinary people might not be able to see it because they go to bed too early after dark, but those nobles with guards should be able to observe it..."

Ailin's tone suddenly faltered.

The footsteps, accompanied by the creaking of old, dilapidated wood, came to an abrupt end.

The second floor of the inn was silent, save for the echo of their footsteps as they arrived.

But it was precisely this quiet that made them uneasy.

With their keen senses, the eight witchers could always make some kind of noise; how could it be as if the place was uninhabited?

The gold and red candlelight flickered, its faint light illuminating only a three-meter radius around the two witchers.

Beyond the candlelight, the darkness seemed to lurk like a ferocious beast.

Ailin and Vesemir frowned, placing their hands on the silver swords at their waists.

"Knock knock knock~"

There was a knock on the wooden door of the room near the stairs.

No one answered.

The same applies to the second, third, fourth, and so on.

Vesemir frowned and glanced at Ailin.

Ailin fiddled with Klar door for a few moments and then opened it.

The room was empty, and although the items were scattered about, there were no signs of a fight.

The same was true for the other rooms, as if the seven witchers had all agreed to go out at the same time.

"Kray, Aias, and Hugh might break the rules and go out, but Ernie and Klar would never leave without saying goodbye." Ailin pursed her lips and walked to the window of Klar's room.

There were no footprints, no signs of climbing.

However, this is not surprising.

If there were any signs, there would be a reason why there wasn't even a trace of a struggle inside the house.

"Knock knock knock~"

Footsteps came from the stairwell, and an elderly woman came up carrying a large basket of food.

"Oh dear, why are you two guests standing in the stairwell? Hmm, where is everyone else?" The woman saw that all seven doors were open, but there was no one inside.

"Didn't they come downstairs today?" Ailin didn't answer the question, but asked in a blank expression.

"No... no..." The woman seemed to sense something was wrong and put down the food basket. "There shouldn't be any, but it's also possible I just didn't see it..."

I didn't see it...

If seven people didn't deliberately keep it a secret, how could they possibly hide it from the people on the first floor when they walked down the dilapidated wooden stairs together?

But he didn't go downstairs, nor did he leave through the window...

Seven living people, could they just vanish into thin air?

"Do you need me to find some guards?"

"No."

"Then these foods..." The woman nervously clenched her calloused fingers.

Vesemir glanced at it.

A clean white cloth covered the wooden basket, and wisps of steam rose from it, filling the corridor with the rich aroma of oil and mushroom soup.

"Just leave it here, the fee will be deducted directly from the deposit."

"Okay." The woman smiled broadly, her face wrinkling and making her look even older.

She turned to go downstairs when she suddenly remembered something. "Oh right, a couple came by this afternoon."

"A couple?" The two witchers looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Don't you recognize them?" The old woman pursed her dry lips. "Those two are really beautiful, and they're wearing expensive clothes. As soon as they came in, the whole restaurant seemed to brighten up. Everyone was stunned."

"But before I could say anything, two people came upstairs. They must be looking for your... uh... companions, right?"

"They might have gone out with those two, and they might be back tomorrow."

"After they went upstairs, they didn't make any noise?" Vesemir asked, frowning.

"A commotion? What commotion?"

"It's nothing," Ailin said. "They probably went out to play."

"It's good that everything's alright," the old woman seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Those kids are really something, going out to play with acquaintances without even leaving a message..."

Muttering to herself, the old woman went downstairs.

The atmosphere on the second floor, however, was even more somber.

During the day, seven demon hunters, whose strength was already quite good, were taken away quietly without alerting anyone.

How did those two "couples" manage to do it? And who are they?

"Let me look for more traces," Ailin said.

Vesemir nodded grimly, as if in the calm before a volcanic eruption. "I'll search too. You start with Kray's room, and I'll start with Klar's room."

Ailin nodded, and with a thought, immediately activated the Tracking.

On the dimly lit stairwell floor, many red shoe prints suddenly appeared. In addition to the Witcher's standard leather boots, two pairs of distinctive prints stood out as Ailin noticed them.

Ailin crouched down, focusing his attention on the nearest footprints.

In an instant.

The red ribbons that formed the footprints made you dance, turning into points of light that combined to form two pairs of tall, slender red legs that only extended below the knees.

They climbed the stairs step by step and stopped at the door of Kray's room, but did not go in.

Then, two or three seconds later, they moved from Kray's room to Ernie's room, and then to all the other young witchers.

They didn't enter any of the young witchers' houses, each time staying only for a few seconds, as if they were just visiting friends, exchanging a few private words before leaving.

But how could a witcher who has never descended the mountain have any human friends?

"Knock knock knock~"

Footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.

Ailin silently walked into Kray's room.

About a meter from the door, a red footprint from a Witcher's standard leather boot caught his eye.

When attention is focused on it, Kray's calves, made up of red dots, appear and then quickly shrink a second later.

It eventually became even smaller than his little finger.

Ailin walked into Klar's room with a grim expression.

Vesemir had just begun his search when he crouched down to carefully examine the texture of the dust on the ground.

"No need to look anymore, Vesemir."

The Witcher Master paused for a moment, then looked up in confusion.

"It's a wizard! The sorcerer Ban Ade has kidnapped Ernie and the others!"

"How did you know?" Vesemir asked instinctively.

Although the chances were slim to begin with, weren't they just beginning to identify the traces?

How was this conclusion reached in less than two minutes?

Ailin pointed to the ground, to the mottled wooden plank behind Vesemir: "Shapeshifting Sealing Charm, a male wizard... and a very powerful one at that, used Shapeshifting Sealing Charm on Ernie and the others, and took them away."

The Shapeshifting Sealing Charm, also known as the Human Compression Technique.

This is a powerful spell that can envelop the target in a jade shell and shrink them to the size of a "statue" that can be held in the palm of your hand.

Only powerful warlocks can cast this spell.

This spell allows the caster to trap those they want to capture without worrying about their escape, and it can also be carried around and easily concealed.

The reason Ailin was able to recognize the spell at a glance was because he had seen it in the original novel in his previous life and it left a very deep impression on him.

During the Thanedd Coup, Francesca Fantaby used a spell to compress Yennefer, secretly taking her off the island and transporting her to Dol Brettanna. After 47 days of compression, Francesca lifted the spell and asked her to join the Conclave of Sorceresses.

"Shapeshifting Sealing Charm?" Vesemir blinked in confusion.

"Lady Vesemir told me about this spell, so I recognize it..."

As Ailin rambled on with irrelevant lies to describe the spell's effects, he led Vesemir along the legs of the "male wizard" who had reappeared in the corridor, until they reached the door of the Witcher Master's room.

Before Vesemir could open the door, Ailin took out the wire tied to his belt and gently fiddled with the lock.

The door was then opened.

After the red-legged girl entered the room, she paused for a few seconds at the low table beside the bed before turning back.

Ailin did not chase after them.

Because on the low table was a sheet of expensive Chiffon Paper, on which were written in aristocratic cursive script:

Respected Master Vesemir:

Please meet tomorrow at noon in the birch grove, 800 meters north of the village.

Vilgefortz of Logiwen.