The Illusion-Casting Leshen?

"V... Vesemir? Ailin?!!"

Looking back, Dante even wondered if he had lost too much blood and was seeing things.

Or perhaps the ancient Leshen, like the Foglet, could release illusions that bewitch people.

otherwise...

How could Vesemir and Ailin possibly be in Redania at this time?

Each Witcher Master has a limited number of overlapping quest routes, thus minimizing conflicts arising from conflicting quests, as seen in the Witcher Conclave.

Vesemir's usual route would be through Kedwen, Ard, Temeria, and Hidalis, then south via Sodden and Lyria, returning to Kaer Morhen for the winter...

"It must be the Leshen's illusion... it must be the Leshen's illusion..."

etc...

It's not just Vesemir and Ailin, how come there are also Ernie and Klar?

How could an apprentice who needed someone to lead him to pass the Trial of the Mountains, which he had been demoted from, possibly fight on equal terms with the flock of crows and gray wolves summoned by the Leshen?

Is this illusion... meant to fool children?

Dante shook his head, ignoring the "illusion" that was "tempting" him, and with a jolt to Fred, he made sure Fred was steady before charging off in the opposite direction of the battle.

There are only crows and wolves on the battlefield now, Leshen is definitely hiding in the shadows, watching him!

"Dante! Dante! Why are you running?!"

"Master Dante!"

The anxious shouts of Vesemir and Ailin, mixed with the sounds of fighting and the screams of crows and wolves, reached his ears through the sudden howling wind.

The tone, timbre, and even the emotions conveyed were all incredibly realistic.

I can't tell!

I can't tell the difference at all!

"This is the Leshen with the title of 'ancient'!" Dante was so nervous that his heart was in his throat and his spine was cold.

Hearing the shouts around him, he wasn't even sure if he was really running towards the edge of the oak forest, or if he was being controlled by the Leshen and circling around the oak tree where Fred was tied up.

"But why didn't we notice Him during the day? He has such powerful abilities!"

"Is it only usable at night?"

"How come this wasn't mentioned in the school's Monster Economics archives? It's really a killer..."

"That's not right... I'm really confused. There aren't many records of Leshen in the school's Monster Economics archives..."

"These monsters, hidden deep in the mountains and forests, possessing divinity and having almost no connection with humans, were never the hunting targets of the School of the Wolf..."

"When we get back, we must complete this document..."

"If only I could go back..."

Amidst the chaotic shouts and sounds of battle, Dante, pale-faced, muttered to himself in an attempt to stay conscious and dispel the growing unease and panic in his heart.

Just then...

Suddenly, Dante felt a warm, moist breeze gently brush against the back of his neck.

That's not Fred's breathing!

Instead, it was as if a lurking beast had finally silently circled behind its prey and breathed on its most vulnerable spot with great interest.

The pores on the back of my neck immediately blistered and developed a dense cluster of tiny bumps.

"Buzz!"

The menacing wolf head emblem on his chest suddenly emitted a sharp, beeping sound.

In an instant, a strong sense of crisis made Dante's scalp tingle and his heart almost stop.

The Leshen... caught up with him!!!

"Dante! Watch out!"

"Master Dante!"

Amidst the incredibly realistic and urgent cries, and the increasingly sharp and piercing warning signals, Dante's brown Cat Eyes suddenly contracted, and he abruptly turned around.

A huge shadow obscured the stars and moon.

At least six meters tall, a towering figure like an oak tree, it extended long, sharp claws, like withered branches, within reach of him.

Death was watching him through the stark white deer bone mask.

"Dante, lie down!"

Hearing the hallucination of Ailin's "high-pitched" shouts, Dante, as if possessed, subconsciously lay down.

"Hmph~"

A strong, earthy smell filled his nostrils, and Fred felt a sudden, sharp pressure from a bone pressing against the penetrating wound in his lower back.

The intense tearing pain made him groan involuntarily.

He regretted it as soon as he lay down.

"How could I listen to an illusion?!"

"Perhaps that Leshen was just an illusion, its purpose being to make me stop..."

Thinking of this, an overwhelming sense of despair welled up in my heart.

However, the Witcher Master of the School of the Wolf never gives up in despair. He gripped Fred's arm tightly, his veins bulging, and was about to roll out of the Leshen's attack range.

As if the sky had collapsed, an intense pressure descended from the heavens, accompanied by a furious cry.

Dante's brown Cat Eyes suddenly narrowed to slits.

A massive black shadow with wings that blotted out the sky opened its sharp claws and pounced on him like a hawk.

"The Greater Griffin!!!"

Dante's heart stopped.

It's over!

His heart sank, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

Judging from the immense pressure emanating from the Great Griffin, which was so different from that of the Leshen, the Greater Griffin could not possibly be an illusion.

With the Leshen blocking his way, and the Greater Griffin swooping down from the opposite direction, this time he truly had no chance of escape.

but...

Dante is still struggling...

"Snap! Snap! Snap!"

The sturdy oak tree, under the sharp claws of the Greater Griffin, was crushed like a tender twig or blade of grass.

Countless leaves, broken branches, and wood chips danced in the air.

The ferocious wolf head emblem seemed to have gone completely mad, thrashing wildly across the dark red breastplate.

Amidst the trembling of the brown Cat Eyes, the blood-red paw and ink-black claw drew ever closer, until, in the blink of an eye, it swept past half a meter above his eyes.

Even from the nearby Dante, one can see the strange copper rings on the claws.

Etc!

It flew by?

The Greater Griffin's target isn't me?

When Dante realized this problem...

"Thump!"

Like a battering ram slamming into the city gate, the Leshen's body twisted and flew backward, rolling after landing and breaking a row of oak trees before disappearing into the flying dust.

Dante, in a contorted position, supported himself on the ground with one hand and held the unconscious Fred with the other.

He stared blankly at the deep furrows plowed into the ground, almost forgetting to dodge the falling broken oak branches.

"The Greater Griffin actually... actually saved me?"

Is this an illusion?

Why would the Leshen create an illusion of himself being knocked away for him?

Is your hobby really that unusual?

Dante stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

But considering the real, seemingly oppressive pressure that seemed to be weighing down all his internal organs, he immediately thought of another possibility, an even more bizarre one...

With a resounding blow, the Greater Griffin let out a long cry, flapped its wings, and soared back into the sky.

"Dante, why are you running?!"

Vesemir rushed over and slapped Dante's shoulder hard in an annoyed manner.

The already weakened Dante was still in shock when, unexpectedly, his right shoulder, wrapped around his head, was plunged directly into the mud.

Vesemir paused, his face turning somewhat embarrassed.

"Are you really Vesemir?"

Dante pulled his head out of the mud, still somewhat incredulous.

"What nonsense are you talking about? Of course it's me..." Vesemir rolled his eyes in annoyance, then explained, "In the evening, Huus was rescued and taken back to the Temple of Melitele. We learned your location from him and rushed over immediately."

"Is it because of Huus...? I'm so glad Huus is alright..." Dante breathed a sigh of relief, but then his movement to get up suddenly froze. "Wait, the Temple of Melitele, the Temple of Melitele in Arland?"

"That's right..."

"That's impossible. It's at least three days' journey from here to Arland, and you..."

"It takes three days on land, but not in the air..." Vesemir interrupted Dante with a mysterious smirk.

"No need for the sky..." Dante paused again, then a flash of inspiration struck him, and his eyes widened in shock, "You mean..."

"That's right, that Greater Griffin is our partner..."

"Wait... Greater Griffin... you..." Dante was somewhat incoherent, feeling like he had countless questions to ask...

For example, how was the Greater Griffin tamed?

Shouldn't those agile young witchers, who are still carrying out the final cleanup and killing the ravens and wolves involved, be in Kaer Morhen?

Why do they not look like young witchers who have just passed the Demotion Trial of the Mountains?

And why was the force with which Vesemir patted his shoulder much stronger than before?

Countless questions, like a tangled ball of yarn, blocked his thinking, making it impossible for him to even sort out his basic thoughts for a moment.

"Alright, I know you have many questions. I'll answer them one by one after we deal with the Leshen..."

Vesemir pulled Dante up from the ground, glanced at Fred's pale face, and frowned.

"Fred is still breathing... he's passed out..." He quickly pried open Fred's eyelids, checked his pupils, carried Fred on his back, glanced around, and asked, "Why did you get involved with the Leshen? This isn't like you at all..."

"And Dante, Fred is here, but where's Bont?"

"I don't know," Dante said, lowering his head in shame. "After we were suddenly attacked by the Leshen this morning, we were scattered by the large number of crows and wolves summoned by the Leshen."

"Fred was closest to me at the time, and he was being held hostage by the monster. I... I only managed to save him... No... if you hadn't come, I wouldn't have been able to save Fred either..."

He rubbed his face so hard that his skin and flesh became deformed, and the newly healed scars split open, oozing scarlet blood.

"Dante ..." Vesemir sighed, about to gently pat him on the back.

"The Leshen... right... the Leshen... that monster isn't so easy to deal with..."

Dante remembered the Leshen who had been knocked away by the Greater Griffin, and suddenly turned around.

Seeing Ailin carrying a silver-white longsword and walking along the furrows dug into the ground, he rushed in that direction, shouting as if in response:

"Ailin! What are you doing! Come back! That's the Deer Head..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

He suddenly felt Vesemir pull him back.

"What are you doing, Vesemir? Stop Ailin!"

"Don't go over there, let him vent," Vesemir shrugged, straightening Fred's posture. "He's been holding it in all this way..."

"What do you mean, 'held it in the whole way...' 'vented out'?" Dante was stunned for a few seconds before he understood what Vesemir was saying.

"Are you insane?" he roared, trying to break free of Vesemir's grasp. "That's Leshen! And not just any Leshen, but an elder who can at least be called 'ancient,' an incarnation of the forest god..."

"Ailin, get out of the way!"

Dante's voice suddenly turned shrill.

But it was too late.

He had barely finished calling out the name when, from the dark void behind Ailin, a withered, sharp claw silently emerged and pierced straight toward Ailin's back.

"Duh!"

Whether or not Ailin noticed his warning, he rolled away to avoid the sneak attack.

Its claws, at least a meter long, sank directly into the soil.

Dante's heart, which had been pounding with anxiety, eased slightly. He then quickly pulled Vesemir along, saying, "Quickly, give Fred to Ernie, let them ride that Greater Griffin, and get out of this oak forest as soon as possible. We need to go help Ailin..."

But to his surprise, Vesemir was not pulled by him.

"I can't go," Vesemir shook his head slightly. "The Leshen are unpredictable; I need to protect... Fred ..."

"Ernie and Klar can't leave either. The Leshen could summon a pack of beasts at any moment. We can't let the beasts bother us, or Ailin ..."

Dante noticed the pause in Vesemir's tone, and his eyes dimmed.

"Don't worry," Vesemir patted Dante on the shoulder, "The current Ailin is completely different from the Witcher you imagined..."

Completely different... Dante didn't understand.

It's only been half a year, what difference could there be?

Improving any combat memory, whether it's magic or melee skills, requires long-term training for the muscles and brain to memorize it.

Especially in close combat.

In addition to the brain needing to integrate and apply knowledge, the muscle memory formed through long-term muscle training is even more important.

In the early stages, you can certainly become proficient quickly, but as you progress, every improvement will take months, years, or even decades to achieve...

Dante's impression of Ailin was indeed still from half a year ago, right after the Apprentice Combat Tournament ended.

Although Ailin may seem to be famous Northern Continent, in reality, due to information constraints, his reputation only circulates among the top kings, sorcerers, and nobles.

This story only spread because of the frequent long-distance communication caused by Ben Ade and the Wild Hunt.

But in reality...

His name might be unknown even in many cities within Temeria itself.

Not to mention, Dante, who basically just wandered around Redania and stopped taking on difficult commissions because he was busy training apprentices, was almost completely unaware of the major events that occurred in Ailin in the first half of the year.

The tavern may have heard Ailin's songs, but you won't know unless you actually see them with your own eyes.

Who would believe that the person in the ballad is the apprentice who has just passed the Trial of the Mountains?

therefore.

Dante frowned, still trying to persuade the suddenly careless Vesemir:

"What difference could there be? I already said it's an elderly stag-headed creature with the title of 'ancient'..."

Dante's tone faltered.

Because he discovered that Ailin was actually evenly matched with the Leshen...

Wrong!

Dante stared wide- Cat Eyes.

"Why is this Leshen being beaten so badly?"