The Guard's Betrayal! Headcutter's Sigh!

"If the wizard wasn't a monster that could live without a head, then yes, he really is dead."

Ailin smiled and patted Dante on the shoulder.

"Let's go, Drakkenberg's guards are almost here."

Drakkenberg's guards were indeed close, so close that the two witchers could hear a string of curses mixed with Redania slang.

And of course, there's gagging.

The sorcerers' collections, which defy conventional human aesthetics, clearly made all normal people extremely uncomfortable, including prison guards accustomed to bloodshed.

Fortunately, Ronnie Dickinson, like all male wizards, possessed enough arrogance toward witchers that he even considered capturing them alive and using them for experiments.

Otherwise, if the battle had ended any later, Drakkenberg's guards would have become an asset to Ronnie Dickinson, adding further complications.

Imagine, a great mage with a large group of guards...

Then imagine being attacked from both sides by mages and guards, and having to protect Bont...

Ailin couldn't help but shiver.

"That's right, it's not over yet..."

Hearing the curses so close to his ears and hearing the tremors of the ground, Dante took a deep breath, quickly carried the unconscious Bont on his back, and untied his sword belt to secure him to his body.

"What do you plan to do?" He gripped his sword tightly, his expression grave.

Although they overcame the most difficult obstacle and rescued Bont, Drakkenberg's guards were still a major problem.

The laboratory of the Rissberg Civil Conglomerate in Drakkenberg, for some reason, had no windows, only a copper door as the sole exit.

Between them and the bronze gate, elite soldiers wielding magical weapons continued to pour in.

To be honest, if it weren't for Ailin, who was constantly creating miracles, by his side, Dante would have had no choice but to take a gamble with his sword—

Let's see if Drakkenberg's guards are scared off first, or if he is killed by the guards first.

"Shall we go out and try?" Ailin snapped his fingers.

"What?"

Dante paused, about to ask further...

"Buzz~"

The School Emblem hummed softly.

Before he could react, Ailin's body rippled outwards and disappeared from his sight.

The ripples then spread to his body, starting from his arms, and gradually disappeared, as if he had fallen asleep after being thrown a stone, sinking into the void lake.

"This... this is an illusion?"

Dante looked at Ailin, who had suddenly reappeared, in astonishment.

The School Emblem was still humming, indicating that the magical effect had not disappeared.

That is, they donned an invisibility cloak created by illusion.

"That's right, it's an illusion," Ailin nodded. "It might not work. After all, this is Drakkenberg, and there should be some way to deal with it, but we can give it a try."

"Wait a minute," Dante suddenly remembered the black magical spiderweb that had passed through Ailin's body, "You used this method to deceive the warlock's senses and get behind him?"

"Wait, could such a powerful sorcerer really be fooled by such an illusion?"

"Buzzing~"

The mirage bead on her chest, now questioned, buzzed in dissatisfaction.

Ailin mentally reassured her a few times to calm her down, then smiled without saying a word.

A mirage realm using only mirage pearls is certainly not feasible, at least not with the current mirage pearls.

Ronnie Dickinson's perception, pushed to its limits, is not so easily fooled.

However, with the uncontrolled fluctuations of Fire Element that were enough to disrupt perception, it was more than enough for Elisha to create a disguise that lasted only a moment, concealing Ailin who "blinked" behind Ronnie Dickinson in an instant.

Ultimately, from beginning to end, Ailin portrays himself as a character who is more agile than a normal Witcher.

The only loophole is the Summon Staff, which summons Elsa.

However, perhaps because of Ailin's age and his weak behavior of simply stealing the Instant Trigger Gem, the equally cunning Ronnie Dickinson didn't seem to care about this point.

But then again...

This cannot be blamed on Ronnie Deakins.

Putting yourself in Ailin's shoes, it would be difficult for anyone who doesn't know Erin to be very wary of a young witcher who sneaks around like a thief.

And let's not even talk about Ronnie Deakins.

If Ailin himself hadn't identified Ronnie Dickinson's panel, wouldn't he have almost messed up too?

Without the disguise he had during Elisha's attack, whether he unleashed his full power or teleported directly behind Ronnie Dickinson, it would likely have put Ronnie Dickinson on his guard.

At that point, the outcome would be very difficult to predict.

No one knows what kind of powerful spells a male sorcerer with the ultimate abilities of perception and mystery can unleash.

certainly...

Once his exploits in Arland spread Northern Continent, this information advantage probably won't last long.

"Stay closer to me later..."

Ailin did not answer Dante's question and walked out of the cubicle.

Dante didn't pay any attention, but his gaze as he looked at Ailin's back became increasingly complicated.

Outside the cubicle.

The once-empty laboratory felt unusually crowded after the arrival of his boisterous guests.

"Boss, who is our enemy this time?"

The man wielding the large shield contracted his powerful muscles, carefully avoiding a glass jar containing insects as tall as a person, even though the distance between them was greater than the man's arm span.

"An enemy is an enemy!" Wyatt, carrying his tower shield, said succinctly.

"But... but..." the man hesitated, "But they're not those damned elves. I see them... I see they all have wildcat eyes. Boss, are they witchers?"

"Who cares if he's an elf or a witcher?" Wyatt shook his head impatiently. "We are Drakkenberg's guards. Whoever Lord Evans orders us to kill, we kill. Besides, didn't you see them kill Derek Vascoss?"

"They are Drakkenberg's enemies, that's all we need to know..."

"But Padraic Vasquez is not a good person either," the man on the other side of Wyatt also interrupted in a naive voice, "Those Lisberg and Ben Ade's warlocks are not good people, we saw them with our own eyes..."

"Shut up!" Wyatt glared at him with his Little Eye. "Are you out of your mind? This is Riesberg's lab. Those wizards might be listening in there."

The man fell silent, cautiously glancing around. When his eyes met the wide, red eyes of the cannibalistic man behind the bald, sallow head, he immediately looked away in fright.

After a while, as if he couldn't help himself, he said again:

"Just listen to it, the boss will definitely protect us!"

Seeing that Wyatt remained silent, he grew bolder. "In our opinion, it must have been those sorcerers who stole the witchers' things, otherwise why would they come to their door to steal them themselves..."

"It's the School of the Wolf!" the man who spoke first said. "Master Dante, I know him. He's a Witcher from the School of the Wolf. He came to Drakkenberg a few years ago, boss. He even saved Big Iron Hammer from the giant worm's mouth back then..."

Wyatt, who was called the boss, didn't say anything, but just walked forward silently, step by step.

"Big Iron Hammer broke his leg, but he left this godforsaken place. I wonder how he's doing now..."

"However they may be doing, they'll definitely be better off than us!"

"Speaking of which, the School of the Griffin's hunt two years ago..."

"What lion-headed bird? That's a griffin! The one who saved Tom from the Ghoul's jaws was Coën, a witcher from the School of the Griffin! He even cured Tom's poison and healed his injuries before leaving. Those cold-blooded wizards didn't care at all, and Lord Evans didn't say a single word for us..."

"Five years ago, the School of the Wolf came... and saved us..."

"Eleven years ago, Evans hadn't arrived yet..."

The two men beside Wyatt, clumsily echoing each other, recounted the Witcher's repeated trips to Drakkenberg, occasionally glancing at Wyatt on purpose.

Whenever Drakkenberg encountered a major problem, it was always the Shield Guards who were the first to step up, so they naturally had the most contact with the Witchers.

Moreover, in Drakkenberg, a living hell, fellow soldiers are each other's strongest and most reliable shield.

So, who hasn't benefited from the Witcher's kindness?

Whether they belong to the School of the Griffin or the School of the Wolf, they can all be categorized as good people according to their simple values.

As they were talking, two brothers who had been saved by the Witcher appeared behind the three of them.

"Alright!"

Wyatt gave a low shout, glanced around, and whispered, "I've already gone easy on Evans, don't tell me you didn't notice!"

"I knew you didn't rush over on purpose, boss! Save that whore's son, Derek Vasquez!" the man on the left grumbled, his voice filled with delight and joy.

"Keep your voice down, Big Head!" Wyatt punched him on the head. "I didn't mean to... well, a little bit, but it happened when I wasn't paying attention."

That is indeed the case.

Without saying a word, Evans brought them over to use potions to quell the "prison riot." Upon seeing Master Dante's appearance, he did hesitate.

But before he could make a decision, the short male wizard... uh... Sorceress helped him by using magic to save him the trouble of making a choice.

to be honest.

Not to mention his brothers and comrades in the Shield Guard, he himself was also saved by the Witcher. And it wasn't just him; his wife, children, parents, relatives, and neighbors in his hometown—any ordinary person living outside the city—could not have never been helped by the Witcher.

"But this is all we can do," Wyatt whispered a reminder. "Don't forget who we are. Our wives and children are waiting for our pay. If Evans ... if Evans labels us as rebels, they will all die!"

"But...but we," Big Head glanced at his dejected comrades around him, "We don't want to fight the Witchers..."

"We don't need to fight them...we should..." Wyatt whispered, "The wizards' labs have so many...uh...expensive..."

He glanced around and realized he couldn't possibly use the word "precious" to describe the strangely shaped specimens in the large jar.

"Anyway, you just have to be careful and meticulous, so you don't accidentally break these things."

"So it's normal for us to be a bit slower."

"I understand!" Big Head's eyes darted around in their sockets, then he shouted back, "Be careful, the male wizards'... hobbies are all very expensive. Don't bump into anything, or we couldn't afford to pay for them even if we sold you all! Watch your step!"

"Yes!"

The shield guards who were nearby all chimed in earnestly.

The other guards behind them looked at each other blankly, and then naturally slowed down to follow the "cautious" steps of the shield guards.

Seeing this, Wyatt snorted and glared at him, but said nothing.

Big Head chuckled and scratched his head, "But even so, we'll still run into Master Dante and the others. Will we really have to fight them then?"

"Of course!" Wyatt said irritably. "But that would only be if they could escape from your hands. If you ask me, they are just overestimating themselves. Two people dare to break into Drakkenberg."

"When we go down to 'purgatory,' we need to gather seventy or eighty people..."

"Then... then..." Big Head hesitated, unable to finish his sentence.

"Don't even think about it. We've done our best and done right by the School of the Wolf of Witchers," Wyatt sighed. "Don't forget, Big Iron Shield and Furi were both seriously injured in that Mudslide, and they probably won't survive..."

Upon hearing this, Big Head and the other shield guard, remembering the image of Big Iron Shield and Furi severely injured and coughing up blood, their chests caved in, exchanged a glance and fell silent, their spirits low.

for a long time,

"Boss," Big Head sighed again, "Who do you think is to blame for this?"

Wyatt remained silent, because he didn't know either, or rather, he knew he shouldn't know...

This convoluted grammar, like the future of every one of them, Drakkenberg.

This is not something he, who lives for today and has no future, and who is described by wizards and nobles as "all brawn and no brains," should be thinking about.

Thinking can make even the strongest shield fragile and brittle.

He should be a mindless longsword, stabbing wherever the men tell him to stab...

Even where the sword tip was pointed, there were unarmed women, children, and the elderly.

"Boss, boss..."

Another shield-guard suddenly called out anxiously.

"What is it now?" Wyatt frowned. "I told you, we can only..."

"No! Boss, listen! The sounds of fighting ahead have stopped!" The shield guard paused, then said, "Could it be... could it be... that they were all killed by those whore's lovers?"

Wyatt looked up abruptly, only then realizing that the entire laboratory was truly filled only with the sounds of their "marching"; not even the slightest fluctuation of magic could be detected...

etc...

Wyatt squinted.

Two of the stars on the tower shield on his chest flickered almost imperceptibly.

Upon seeing something, Wyatt's Little Eye suddenly contracted, and his entire large body froze.

"Shut up!"

He shouted, and the noise in the line instantly disappeared.

"The enemy might try to escape, so be on your guard!"

"Keep moving to the right to give your pursuers room to cast spells and avoid being caught in the crossfire!"

"Yes!" The shield guards responded immediately, quickly moved to the right, and straightened their formation.

The ordinary guards behind them, hearing that they would be affected, were also frightened and moved to the right.

"Shouldn't all escape routes be blocked when the enemy is fleeing?"

Big Head obeyed the order to move to the right, only to realize that something was wrong with the command, and tilted his head to ask.

"Shut up!" Wyatt's face turned pale with anger upon hearing this.

He was about to slap Big Head on the head...

A strange noise suddenly came from the empty corridor on the right...

That was Carlo the "Headcutter," sighing.

"Wyatt, you have overstepped your bounds!"