Slaughter! What Did Vesemir Teach Him?!!

The bronze door opened only slightly before stopping.

A cool breeze blew in through the narrow cracks, carrying formaldehyde, ether, and alcohol, and of course, magic...

It smells like a laboratory.

No human voices came from the narrow opening, nor was there any human presence.

After the bronze door was opened, the person who opened it left, or perhaps it was magic that opened it, not a human. This was certainly not unusual for a group of wizards.

The cold wind woke up Dante and Young Huus, who were standing there in a daze. They looked at Ailin in astonishment.

"Let's go." Ailin calmly reached out and opened the bronze door.

The Drakkenberg hasn't had any major problems for centuries, and minor issues won't affect the Rissberg Laboratory located at the top of the tower.

It's understandable to be lax; it would be abnormal to treat it like a heavily guarded military base.

certainly.

The premise of slacking off is that no one has been notified.

The significance of killing the sorcerer Derek Vascoss first is now becoming clear.

Otherwise, if they were to launch a full-scale assault, this door alone would likely hold them off for a very long time.

But time... can cause unexpected events...

"Hmm... hmm... okay..." Dante withdrew his right hand, which was bent with his fingers, pushed the reluctant Young Huus, and followed him into the room, politely closing the door behind him.

"Clang~"

With a soft knocking sound, all the noise and commotion were shut out from outside the door.

The laboratory was deathly quiet.

Yes.

At first glance, there was no one in the laboratory.

The place is well-lit and clean.

Like all laboratories, long tables covered with metal plates are lined with shelves filled with glassware—flasks, test tubes, retort flasks, stirring bowls, and all sorts of small instruments.

Of course, there's no shortage of decorations, but compared to the average person's taste...

A cyclops specimen and a flying lizard hanging from the ceiling are alright, but a dusty human skeleton—at least that's what Ailin thinks is human—is also understandable.

But inside the glass display case, there were also a considerable number of bottles containing countless human and non-human samples—most of which were internal organs, and even immature fetuses still attached to their placens—preserved in a yellowish suspension of alcohol or formaldehyde.

"Ugh~"

Upon seeing this, Young Huus immediately began to gag.

The two witchers also frowned.

"Didn't we already have late-night snacks?"

A puzzled male voice came from the east side of the laboratory, a location obscured by various specimen display cases.

A mature male voice said, "It should be Derek Vasquez; he's probably had too much to drink."

"Hmph," another male voice scoffed, "He has no real skills of his own, he just relies on Lord Otolan's favor..."

"Shut up!" a mature male voice snapped.

"Anyway, he can't hear it, and there aren't many wizards in Riesberg whose perception is even lower than his."

"Alright! He was just here to gain experience!" a mature male voice said. "If it weren't for him, where would we get these top-notch experimental subjects?"

"You risk offending the Witcher Conclave and ruining your reputation by going out to capture Witchers?"

Young Huus covered his mouth, his stomach churning with acid, and dared not make another sound.

Of course, he couldn't hear the whispers on the other side of the lab.

However, he noticed the two witchers' faces suddenly darken.

They trod across the expensive marble floors, tiptoeing through rows of nauseating shop windows.

Those two pairs of beastly eyes, one blue and one brown, flashed with a dangerous light, narrowing into a vertical line, much like a hungry wolf that had spotted its prey, crouching low with its tail slender and delicate.

Young Huus knew that it was the prelude to a hunting attack.

He dared not take this opportunity to escape or shout a warning, for such an act would surely lead to his death. He had no intention of sacrificing himself for a group of male witches, so he also covered his mouth and moved quietly.

Then, after passing a gruesome werewolf specimen with bared teeth, an old steel sword silently appeared in the young witcher's hand.

"Warlocks are judged by their strength. If one can become Alzure, Cosimo Malaspina, or Adalan, not only the Rissberg Civil Conglomerate, but even the Conclave of Sorcerers cannot restrain them..."

The mature male voice that reached the ears of the two witchers was completely unaware of the impending danger; his tone gradually became excited and fanatical.

"And this perfect body before me is the beginning of the path to greatness. I have never seen a demon hunter possess such a physique at the age of thirteen..."

"His blood is so perfectly balanced against Genetic Mutation that I imagine he experienced the least amount of pain during the Green Trial..."

"He is simply the most perfect individual among witchers. If we can continue our research, perhaps we can really rely on him to surpass Otolan, prove the superhuman theory, and complete the genetic makeup of the human species..."

"When the time comes, it will be our turn to arrange for people with connections to be assigned to other project departments."

The other male voices seemed to respond well to this encouragement, laughing heartily several times.

"So Quade, you should thank Derek Vasquez..."

"Hahaha," the wizard called Quade chuckled a few times, "I am truly grateful to Derek Vasquez for allowing us to arrange connections for the pseudo-reptilian research department. I will definitely choose carefully when the time comes..."

"Quade, you're a real Ben Ade bad boy!"

"Aren't you the same, Elisha!"

"Alright!" A mature male voice interrupted the joke. "Since you're so grateful, I'll give you a chance, Quade! You can go out and see our esteemed Lord Derek Vasquez."

"Give him some hangover cure, don't let him drink himself to death in our lab."

"To support our great research, we still need Master Otolan's funding."

The sorcerer named Elisha sang in a strange aria. "Go! Go! My wicked boy Ban Ade, for a great and glorious future to stand beside Alzure, Cosimo Malaspina, and Adalan..."

"Damn it! You guys are the bad boys!" Quade laughed and cursed.

The conversation stopped.

A gust of wind suddenly swept through the lab, carrying the scents of formaldehyde, ether, alcohol, and the familiar, pungent smell of blood...

Ailin and Dante exchanged a glance.

"Let me do it." A cold voice echoed in Dante's mind.

Ailin raised his right hand, which was holding Balmor, with a cold expression. The steel sword gleamed coldly and seemed exceptionally sharp under the bright magic lamp.

Dante pursed his lips, glanced at the direction the wind was coming from, nodded, then covered Young Huus's mouth and quietly slipped between the glass jars containing the Giant Centipede and Giant Ghoul specimens.

The rising anger calmed Ailin's heartbeat, like a master assassin lurking in the shadows, watching his prey.

"Da da da~"

The footsteps grew closer.

The first time the wizard named Quade came into Ailin's view, he was short, lean, and had sharp features. His white lab coat looked particularly large on him.

A few drops of blood clung to the abdomen of the white robe, carrying the scent of Bont.

Ailin remained expressionless, his gaze never lingering on the bloodstains. His Wolf Emblem trembled slightly, and a fleeting flash of magic from his azure Cat Eyes swept over the sorcerer's entire body.

Quade hummed a little tune as he passed by the cupboard room.

Stand up, walk out of the alley, pat on the shoulder...

As she gently removed the gemstone from the cuff of her lab coat with her left hand, she covered her mouth in shock at the staring gaze that turned back to her...

"Click~"

A crisp sound.

The wizard, who possessed a "great and glorious future," lost the magical glow in his pupils within two seconds.

Silently.

The level 6 School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword contains a multitude of assassination techniques.

With his extraordinary strength, agility, and perception, Ailin might just be the world's greatest assassin.

So the old saying is indeed true.

Killing a warlock is no harder than killing a chicken once you get close to one.

"Ailin, you..."

Dante stared in astonishment and disbelief at the youngest Witcher Master of the "School of the Wolf," watching him choke an adult male sorcerer by the neck, then skillfully remove his lab coat and slip it over his dark red leather armor, placing the seemingly sleeping male sorcerer's corpse in the Rift next to the werewolf specimen.

They even arranged it in a curled-up, knee-hugging pose.

Under the bright light of the magic lamp, the werewolf's shadow perfectly concealed the corpse.

"Vesemir didn't teach me how to kill; I learned it on my own," Ailin interrupted Dante's astonishment via telepathy. "Enough with the nonsense, follow me, Master Dante."

He finished speaking.

Ailin, holding the sword upside down, charged straight back in the direction the wizard had come from.

It moved very quickly, but surprisingly, it didn't make a sound.

When Dante hurriedly tried to follow, he realized that his hand was still covering Young Huus's mouth.

Young Huus's pupils widened in terror, his teeth chattering and chattering.

"There's no need to waste time on this piece of trash."

Dante shook his head, let go of his hand, and left.

When Dante caught up with Ailin, Ailin was already standing outside the half-open wooden door.

Here, the strong smell of blood completely overpowered the odors of formaldehyde, alcohol, and ether.

"Put this on."

Ailin casually pinned an emerald cufflink to the lining of Dante's wrist.

"This is?"

"The Instant Trigger Gem was given to you by a wizard named Quett," Ailin said. "Don't refuse it, I have my own."

He pointed to the obsidian on his collar.

The dark purple light shone brightly, making the green light on the cuffs seem much cheaper in comparison.

Dante was very curious about where his Instant Trigger Gem came from.

No matter how much Lady Vesemir doted on her apprentice, she would never give away something so valuable.

However, considering the familiar and skillful assassination techniques that Ailin had just used, and the current environment, Dante only glanced at the priceless Instant Trigger Gem, withdrew his right hand, and nodded.

"The space, about the size of the main hall of the Ancient Sea Fortress castle, had only narrow ventilation openings and no windows..."

"Six male wizards, three of them share a jeweled cufflink, and the middle-aged one has at least two cufflinks..."

Ailin described in detail the space of the inner room, the characteristics of the several male wizards, and their strength assessments.

In fact.

No matter how carefully he examines the situation, he cannot possibly ascertain the strength of a male wizard before the battle even begins.

Not just because he only glanced at it and didn't dare to use an expert.

Rather, no one can do that.

A male wizard who possesses multiple Instant Trigger Gem and appears older should naturally be stronger.

As is usually the case, a male wizard's wealth is often positively correlated with his strength, and he is not as concerned about his appearance as Sorceress. On the contrary, after reaching a certain position, he needs a more mature temperament to make him appear more reliable.

But even without a single gem and looking very young, there's still a possibility that they might make a mistake.

After all, warlocks have all sorts of spells, and even a novice's basic spell can turn the tide if used at the right time, such as Magic Flash.

Some sorcerers even say that their spells might not be strong, but they might have excellent staff skills and spells that complement them.

It's hard to guess... it's hard to guess...

More importantly, Bont is still inside. After the rescue, Drakkenberg's guards will inevitably be blocking the door. Since the entire laboratory has no windows, not only must the rescuers be rescued, but all the male wizards in the laboratory must also be killed as much as possible.

If even one of them is missed, the consequences...

What do you want to do?

After listening, Dante didn't ask Ailin how he could see so clearly with such keen senses as the wizards, and directly handed over command.

Witchers are professionals who believe in specialization.

Regardless of where Ailin learned his techniques, he was the more professional of the two when it came to assassination.

"After I went in, five breaths..."

Ailin explained his arrangements to Dante in his mind, and Dante nodded frequently, raising any doubts he had.

The discussions took quite a while.

Inside the laboratory, the familiar smell of blood grew stronger.

Bont happened to be outside their blind spot, making the passage of time seem exceptionally long for the two of them.

But even if Bont is dangerous, you can't rush in unprepared, that would be even more dangerous.

After a while...

"Quett was quite patient today, he didn't even argue with Derek ..." A male voice called Elisha came from the inner room.

Another voice chuckled, "It seems that arranging for someone with connections to be assigned to the pseudo-reptile research department is quite important to Quade..."

"Stop being sarcastic," a mature male voice said with a hint of amusement. "This is a good thing. It's not good for the department to always be at odds with the big spender's people... Elisha, how are the test subjects doing?"

"Not bad, I think we can go for some destructive... um... Quett, you go back..."

Wearing a white robe, Elisha, who looked like he was holding a bone scalpel with his hands covered in blood, was halfway through his report when he suddenly caught a glimpse of "Quett," also wearing a white robe, walking in with his head down.

He looked up, just about to make a few more teasing remarks...

Before his pupils could even focus, "Quett" suddenly appeared beside him like a ghost.

Then I felt a lightness in my right wrist, and "Quett" suddenly disappeared again.

Immediately afterward, another person walked in from outside the door, and a strong sense of crisis forced him to shift his gaze.

A... a witcher?!

etc...

Elisha suddenly realized something and turned around sharply:

"You're not Quett!"

"Who are you?!!"