Kill the Enemy! The Pack Has Its Eyes on You!

Warlock?

Evans peered through the gap between the shield guards at Dante's back, but couldn't make out his face, and was completely stunned.

A witcher, carrying a sorcerer whose gender was indistinguishable, broke into Drakkenberg, a heavily guarded prison that was arguably the largest in the Northern Continent.

Are the relationships between witchers and warlocks really that good?

"Smack!"

In the blink of an eye.

Derek Vasquez hastily cast a magical shield on himself, only to have it shattered once again by Dante's sword.

The commotion instantly woke Evans.

No!

We can't let Derek Vascoss die here!

"Wyatt, protect Derek Vasquez!" Evans ordered rapidly, turning his head. "And Carlo! Where is Carlo? Kill that sorcerer immediately!"

"Don't give him a chance to cast a spell!"

"Yes, Lord Evans!" Wyatt immediately responded, raising his great shield. He led his dozen or so shield guards, roaring like a lion, and charged toward the battlefield of the sorcerers and witchers.

After that roar, the shields of the dozen or so shield guards immediately began to flash with a dim yellow magical glow, and chains shot out from the star pattern at the center of the shields.

The chains, which Dante, unaware of Dante's true nature, cautiously dodged to the side, and were linked to Derek Vasquez's body in an instant.

Wyatt, accompanied by several shield guards, doubled his speed and charged towards Dante like an unstoppable mountain.

It's over! It's over!

Sam, who Dante just breathed a sigh of relief after easily breaking through the sorcerer Derek Vasquez's defenses, was now on edge again upon seeing this.

It was a pleasant surprise that Master Dante was carrying not his seriously injured apprentice, but a sorcerer who could summon weapons, thus preventing Master Dante from fighting bare-handed.

Even Drakkenberg's ordinary soldiers knew that warlocks were afraid of melee combat.

Once you get close to a warlock and break through his weak shell, killing a warlock is no harder than killing a chicken.

Besides, Lord Evans and the others couldn't see Ailin's face because of the darkness. He knew that the sorcerer named Ailin was only thirteen or fourteen years old.

How powerful can such a young warlock be?

Once Wyatt and Carlo, who is still lurking in the shadows, get closer, they will inevitably become a burden!

Thinking of Ailin, Sam's mind was suddenly filled with images of those Cat Eyes that were remarkably similar to those of Master Dante, and his expression froze.

He seemed to remember that Cat Eyes were a characteristic of witchers, and he had never seen any warlock with such eyes before.

But he only paused for a moment, then shook his head, thinking to himself:

"Whether it's a witcher or a warlock, what use can someone so young be?"

"Master Dante shouldn't have brought him along for the sake of disguise."

"Wrong!"

"In Drakkenberg, in this enormous hell, he couldn't survive even if he brought nothing with him!"

"Master Dante is still too stubborn. Why won't he listen to me?"

"If only we had left then..."

"No, it's still my problem. The prophet said there's never just one right path, and even a narrow path can lead to the end. I wasn't wise enough to convince him..."

Sam was filled with regret and inner turmoil, and sadly closed his eyes.

He regretted that he should have insisted, or even lied to Master Dante and made up an excuse to take them back to the city gate.

Just then.

"Gula~ Gula Gula~ Lagula—"

A strange and mysterious chanting suddenly came from the direction of the tower, causing Sam to instinctively raise his head.

He saw a familiar face, familiar blue eyes, but for some reason the pupils in those eyes were the shape of a normal person.

That's Ailin.

His mouth opened and closed slightly, he hung on Dante's back, and followed Dante as he rushed toward Derek Vasquez.

A strange chanting sound then came from his mouth.

"He... he really knows magic..." Sam was stunned.

Seemingly noticing Sam's gaze, Ailin winked at him.

"Ah—help me! Help me!"

Derek Vasques screamed. His frail, temporary shield had just been pierced by Dante's sword. Like a plucked hen, he screamed in terror and panic. He took two steps back, then stumbled over a piece of gravel and fell to the ground, completely unprotected.

Dante, however, had already sheathed his longsword and was poised to thrust it forward, the distance between the two less than two steps.

From Sam's perspective, Wyatt was not only faster, but he was also closer to Dante than Dante was to Derek Vasquez.

Wyatt had already raised the massive tower shield, ready to bring it down with a powerful slam.

Dante, seemingly oblivious, continued to thrust his sword at Derek Vasquez, as if he were unaware of Wyatt's immense presence behind him.

Then.

"... Gurgle!"

The mysterious incantation from Ailin's mouth suddenly stopped.

Wyatt seemed to sense something, his expression changed drastically, and he suddenly stopped.

Even when they were less than a step away from Dante, they slammed their raised shields into the cracked stone slab with a loud thud, shouting:

"Quick! Quick! Defend!"

Immediately following.

Less than a second after Ailin's spell stopped, almost the instant Wyatt's shield pierced the ground.

"Boom—"

A flash of brown light appeared, and the gray stone slabs on the ground emitted a muffled thunderous sound. In the blink of an eye, the stone turned into mud, creating a two-meter-long torrent of dark brown Mudslide and rocks that rushed towards Wyatt and his shield guards.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

The heavy impact sounded like a great bell being struck.

The star pattern on the tower shield flickered in and out due to the Mudslide, but Wyatt and the shield guards who reacted managed to take a few steps back but still managed to block it.

But those who didn't react in time, whose parts were touched by the murky mud, immediately sank into the soft mud, screaming and spitting out blood as they were swept away by the Mudslide.

Such power frightened the surrounding guards, who hastily retreated.

Fortunately.

The Mudslide spell, which was originally obtained by Ailin from the Giant Drowner's Chest, has never been upgraded due to its ability to destroy terrain and impede movement.

Even with nearly 120 points of mysterious enhancement, the brown mud gradually lost its power after it washed over Wyatt and his shield guards, stopping and solidifying, only knocking a few unlucky guards who rushed forward to the ground. After twitching a few times, they were clearly beyond saving.

certainly.

This power has perfectly achieved the effect that Ailin wanted.

Wyatt and his shield guards were not only forced to stop their attack, but after the Mudslide stopped, their legs were buried deep in the sticky mud, making it difficult for them to move.

"As expected, there are no useless spells, only useless spellcasters..."

Ailin looked at the furious, humiliated faces of Wyatt and the other burly men, and nodded in satisfaction.

The advantage of spells over signs lies in this: although the incantation time is longer than that of signs, as long as the mystical attribute is high enough, even if the spell level is low, it can still exert considerable power.

"That... that child is actually that amazing?"

Sam looked at the muddy wailing in front of the tower and gaped.

He even wondered if he had lost his senses or was seeing things not long ago.

How could a child capable of casting such powerful spells be a witcher?

Sam wasn't the only one shocked; Evans, who instinctively shrank back behind the shield guard, was also taken aback.

"Who is that warlock?" he thought with a chill. "Such powerful magic could not possibly be cast by an ordinary Wild Sorcerer..."

Before he could think it through, Evans ' pupils suddenly trembled violently, and he screamed in anguish:

"Stop!"

But it was too late.

Dante stepped within a step of Derek Vasquez, almost face to face with the terrified Derek.

The gleam of the longsword danced and shimmered in the thick shadow of the tower.

"Pfft!"

A soft sound.

Dante brandished his sword, flicking the blood from his steel blade onto the ground.

The headless corpse fell to the ground, its head, stained with fear and disbelief, rolled a few times in the mud and dust, splattering blood, and then remained still.

There was a moment of silence in front of the tower.

Evans, Wyatt, Sam ... everyone watched as thick blood spread from beneath Derek Vasquez.

"Damn it! Do you know who you killed?" Evans screamed hysterically. "He was O..."

"Shh~"

With his back to Ailin, Dante placed his index finger to his lips and coldly swept his gaze over everyone standing around him.

"I don't know who he is, and I don't care."

"But you should know who I am, and you should also know..."

He paused, his brown, beastly eyes glancing sideways at Evans stood frozen in place:

"The wolves have their eyes on you."

After speaking.

Dante, carrying his sword, pushed open the wooden door and walked into the tower step by step, and for a moment no one dared to stop him.

"Bang!"

The wooden door closed.

Dante breathed a sigh of relief after hearing the silence outside the door.

"So handsome!"

Ailin praised Dante in his mind.

He truly never expected that the usually conservative Master Dante would threaten people in the name of the School of the Wolf.

"The wolves have their eyes on you." This wasn't part of their plan.

After killing the warlock, they should have stormed into the tower.

After all, killing and revenge were secondary; rescuing Bont was their primary objective.

The male wizard must be dealt with; if he uses a portal to teleport to Bont's side, Bont will be in great danger.

However, it seems that the man named Derek Vascoss is just rich, and his strength is probably not yet at the level to actually use the teleportation portal.

"Uh... um... I got excited and blurted it out without thinking..." Dante laughed awkwardly.

"But it works very well." Ailin looked back. They had already reached the first floor of the tower, but there was still no movement outside.

"It's not necessarily because of me, or the School of the Wolf ..." Dante shook his head. "It's possible that Derek Vasquez is the one who plotted to kill us."

"There have always been many mad sorcerers who want to deduce the technology of Alzure and Cosimo Malaspina through experiments on witchers, but it has been a long time since such a crazy thing has happened."

"Evans, the administrator of Drakkenberg, may have had some exchange of interests with him, so he privately mobilized the powers granted to administrators by the king, but he is, after all, from Redania, not from Riesberg or the Conclave of Sorcerers."

"With the mastermind dead, there's no reason to offend the School of the Wolf anymore..."

"Certainly..."

After a pause, Dante continued:

"We can't let our guard down until we rescue Bont, so Ailin, you should stay on my back..."

Ailin nodded and followed the red mark on the ground to show him the way.

Dante's logic was indeed very reasonable, and Evans's reaction just happened to confirm it.

But for some reason, Ailin always felt that something was wrong.

It's not surprising that a mad wizard coveting the Witcher's technology would do anything.

But the problem is...

How could a wizard who was researching in Drakkenberg, whose own level was not even enough to create a portal, know that four witchers had arrived more than 100 kilometers away?

This is not just a question of whether Derek Vasquez has the ability to use the Scrying Mirror to contact the House Family over long distances.

A sorcerer's influence is always linked to his status in the Conclave of Sorcerers, but a sorcerer's status in the Conclave of Sorcerers is linked to his strength. At least a sorcerer of Derek Vasquez's strength could never be a member of the Conclave of Sorcerers's Advanced Council.

If that's the case, how could he possibly have the power to make the House Family, who are nobles, risk being punished by the School of the Wolf to satisfy their own desires, and even order the managers of Drakkenberg to make such a big move?

"Ailin, which way to go next?"

Having reached a fork in the road, Ailin gathered the thoughts swirling in her mind:

"The room at the end of the corridor on the right..."

"Bont should be there."

On the other side...

Evans watched the two figures disappear completely behind the tower for a long time, remaining motionless in the shadows.

He was certainly not intimidated by the reputation of the School of the Wolf.

The School of the Wolf was indeed a considerable force to him, but that was all.

It is said that there are fewer than a hundred witchers in Kaer Morhen, which is no match for Drakkenberg, who can muster two or three thousand when fully prepared for war.

Moreover, adhering to the principle of neutrality makes this armed force, which should occupy an important position in the political niche of the Northern Continent, appear particularly weak and vulnerable.

therefore.

What silenced him wasn't the School of the Wolf, but another issue—

Who is the sorcerer that Dante is carrying on his back?

Compared to the lone wolves like the Witcher who do nothing, the Warlock represents the pinnacle of the political niche in this world.

Even the Witcher, the chief of the School of the Wolf, couldn't be forced to leave Drakkenberg, but the sorcerers could.

"It can't be Ben Ade and Riesberg, could it be Aretuza?"

"That's it. Judging from their physique, that person is either a child or a woman. Such powerful magic can only come from a woman..."

"But why did Aretuza get involved?"

Evans frowned, his lips pressed tightly together.

"Eh... Lord Evans, what should we do next?" The burly man Wyatt, holding up his tower shield, carefully pulled his legs out of the mud and asked cautiously.

Evans glanced at him:

"Continue! Avenge Derek Vasquez!"

Wyatt and the guards around him looked at each other, and for a moment no one made a move.

"The Witcher's target is Riesberg's laboratory," Evans sneered. "Don't forget who else is hiding there, and what else is lurking inside."

"Yes... yes... Lord Evans, hurry up..." Wyatt shivered and immediately ran towards the tower.

The other guards, as if waking from a dream, followed.

Why didn't you make a move?

As Evans watched the soldiers swarm toward the tower, he suddenly spoke into the void.

The air beside him rippled slightly. "Derek Vasquez died too quickly, without even getting a chance."

Evans paused for two seconds after hearing this before saying:

"Don't mess this up, or you know the consequences."

A gentle breeze blew by, but no one answered.

Evans didn't seem to care; he looked up.

Layers of dark clouds drifted in from nowhere, obscuring the stars and moon, making the already gloomy tower appear even more eerie.

"It's better to offend one person than three..."

Evans sighed softly, gazing into the void.