Undercurrents Stirring

The Drakkenberg Tower, the laboratory of the Rissberg Civil Conglomerate.

"Boss, the order to search the lab has been issued." Big Head jogged over, carrying a shield.

"Yes," Wyatt nodded, leaning the heavy tower shield against the wall. "The collections of the Lords of Riesberg are very valuable. You go and keep an eye on them, and make sure they don't steal anything."

"The brothers don't want everything," Big Head said indignantly. "Even if it's not intestines, but heart or brain, nobody would want it even if it were given away for free."

"Stop talking nonsense! Just go when I tell you to!" Wyatt glared and bristled.

"Fine, I'll go..." Big Head shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and left with a few shield guards.

He dismissively reprimanded the guards, ordering them to carry out this mission, ostensibly to search for hidden enemies, but in reality, to clean up the devastation left by the battle.

Once the Shield Guards were far away, Wyatt withdrew his gaze and spoke to the void beside him:

Are you sure you can fool the wizards by doing this?

"Of course not," Carlo's voice echoed from the void. "Ronnie Deakins is no ordinary sorcerer. He is the number one person in the Rissberg Civil Conglomerate, second only to Master Otolan. He is not much younger than Otolan, comes from a minor noble family, but has a wide range of knowledge..."

"Investigation, interrogation, rituals, divination, magic... with so many methods, he always manages to find the truth."

"Then why?" Wyatt's eyes widened.

"Since nobody wants to clash with the School of the Wolf witchers, we need to give them something to do," Carlo said, shaking his head as he watched the busy guards. "Let's go, let's go inside and help collect the bodies of those male witches from Riesberg ..."

"When Ronnie Deakins comes back, we'll have some excuses to cover it up."

Wyatt nodded, picked up the tower shield, and followed Carlo.

The most severely damaged parts of the laboratory were the front section, which was closer to the entrance; the monster specimens in the back were actually better preserved.

In the air.

The pungent spiciness of formalin gradually faded as the two men moved away from the heart of the battlefield, giving way to the cloying sweetness of over-fermented apples, which, like the grotesque and bloody specimens, made them even more unsettling.

Wyatt's Little Eye narrowed in disgust as he looked away from the glass jar, which was coiled with snakes and covered in bumpy toads, and he couldn't help but speak up:

"Those male witches are getting crazier and crazier, they even dare to scheme against witchers..."

"Even more insane are the witchers," Carlo shook his head. "A severely injured Witcher Master and an apprentice who somehow learned a couple of spells actually dared to storm Drakkenberg. They were lucky!"

"This is not crazy," Wyatt denied dissatisfiedly, and corrected him in a naive voice, "This is what a real man should do. If his companion is caught, is it possible that he should stand by and watch?"

Upon hearing this, Carlo suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked him up and down in surprise.

"What's wrong?" Wyatt, sounding a little uncomfortable.

"Do you really think so?" Carlo's tone was strange. "I can't believe you've been in Drakkenberg for so many years and you're still so naive..."

"I... naive?" Wyatt paused for a moment, then became furious. "What do you mean I'm still naive? My own brother has been captured, are you just going to stand by and do nothing? Are you even a man?"

Carlo paused, remained silent for a few seconds, and said coldly, "Have you forgotten where you are?"

"This is Drakkenberg, the largest and most secure prison on the Northern Continent!"

"The people sent by Ian Siddi came wave after wave, but did they manage to rescue even one of Ian Siddi's men?"

"No!"

Carlo answered his own question, his voice sharp and stern. "They are only needlessly wasting innocent lives!"

"The same goes for those two witchers from the School of the Wolf. If they hadn't been lucky enough to kill Derek Vasquez first and avoid Ronnie Deakins, and if we hadn't let them get away with it..."

"If any one of these factors hadn't been met, they would both be the ones dead now."

"The wizard is dead, and Ronnie Dickinson will investigate. Evans has nobles and a king, but what about those two witchers from the School of the Wolf?"

"Nobody's coming, Wyatt! Nobody's coming!"

"Outside of Drakkenberg, no one would even know that today there were two School of the Wolf witchers who, like true 'men,' risked their lives to break into the largest prison in the Northern Continent to save their comrade."

"Perhaps..."

"We must wait until the bitter cold of snow and ice covers the cold walls of the Ancient Sea Fortress."

"Only those slow-witted witchers from the School of the Wolf would raise a glass to mourn the sacrifice of two companions at a long table by a warm campfire, and then forget about those two fools after a night of drunkenness."

"Wyatt!"

Carlo emerged from the void, his clear black eyes blazing with ferocious rage.

"Saving people is actually harming them!"

Wyatt was startled by Carlo's sudden and inexplicable outburst of emotion.

He doesn't understand.

The School of the Wolf's witchers didn't die at their hands, so why is Carlo suddenly so angry?

"Then... how can those Long-ears elves compare to witchers?" Wyatt chuckled awkwardly. "The goddess of fate is their protector, and the Father of the Sky admires powerful warriors who wield swords to fight evil. He will certainly not allow witchers to die from the infighting of their own kind..."

After speaking.

Carlo suddenly vanished from the void.

However, Wyatt could sense that Carlo's emotions seemed to have suddenly calmed down, and he was quietly watching him, making Wyatt's scalp tingle.

for a long time.

"Carlo?" Wyatt asked cautiously.

"Ian Siddi is a non-human race, but aren't Witchers?" Carlo asked.

"Witchers... How could witchers be a non-human race?" Wyatt scratched his head. "Although they look a little different, they are all human children."

"And they risked their lives to protect humanity."

Carlo remained silent for a few seconds, then murmured in a very weak voice, "Ian Siddi also once protected humanity."

"Ah?"

"It's nothing," Carlo shook his head and said softly, "I'm sorry, I just suddenly lost control of my emotions."

Wyatt waved his hands repeatedly:

"It's alright, it's alright. I get restless too when I stay in Drakkenberg for too long. I have so many brothers, but after more than ten years, I've seen you always alone..."

"By the way, Carlo brothers!"

"Why don't you ask the new manager for a few days off after this is over and go home to rest?"

Wyatt stepped forward and patted Carlo on the shoulder.

Carlo paused, remained silent for a few seconds, and then gently shook his head. "No need..."

"How can I not use it? Let me tell you, nothing is more relaxing than coming home, hugging those brats, and cuddling them at night..."

"I have no home."

"Oh...you didn't..." Wyatt realized what Carlo was talking about, his tone faltered, and he dared not speak any further.

fortunately.

Before long, they arrived at their destination.

The wooden door was carved with mysterious etched patterns, and blood slowly flowed out from the bottom, forming a pool of dark red blood.

The rusty smell was so strong that even the pungent spiciness of formaldehyde couldn't be suppressed.

Wyatt and Carlo exchanged a glance and pushed open the door.

"Squeak~"

Wyatt had only stepped his left foot into the cubicle when he suddenly froze and stopped.

"What's wrong?" Carlo asked warily, raising his short sword.

"Carlo ..." Wyatt's voice was hoarse as he pointed into the cubicle, "Perhaps Master Dante and his apprentice didn't succeed by luck..."

It's not about luck?

What does that mean...? Carlo frowned, walked around the tower shield that occupied most of the space, and looked into the compartment.

The crumbling little room was completely unrecognizable as a cutting-edge laboratory.

Limbs, heads, charred corpses, overturned iron chairs split in two, and instruments of torture—only in the innermost part are monkeys, humans, and elves, seemingly experimental subjects, bubbling and sealed in glass jars, proving that this is a laboratory, not a bloody slaughterhouse.

"Crunch~ Crunch~"

Sticky blood seeped into the gaps in the leather boots, making a grating crunching sound with every step.

His gaze shifted downwards.

A blood-stained head, its eyes wide with disbelief, stared at him from a pool of crimson blood.

Carlo immediately felt that the face looked familiar, and then his pupils contracted sharply.

"Ronnie... Dickinson?!"

"Tap~ tap~" Carlo took two steps and stepped into the cubicle.

Behind the molten iron chair, beneath the blood-stained white experimental robes of the headless corpse, lay a black robe representing the identity of Advanced Council warlock.

There's no mistake!

Ronnie Dickinson!

He is Ronnie Dickinson!

etc...

Carlo glanced around again.

One, two, three... including Quade outside, and Derek Vasquez in front of the tower, a total of eight male wizards...

All the wizards of the Non-Human Research Department of the Rissberg Civil Conglomerate are here, and they are all dead!

The Witchers of the School of the Wolf certainly didn't rely on luck; they earned their place through sheer hard work and battles.

Wyatt stared blankly at the corpse on the ground, muttering, "Was Master Dante really that strong?"

"It wasn't Dante," Carlo said firmly. "He was breathing heavily and had suffered serious injuries."

"It can't be here..."

"No, it's an old wound, not a new one."

"That?"

Wyatt looked up in alarm, exchanging a startled glance with Carlo had also realized something.

Carlo's eyes gleamed with disbelief as he nodded firmly. "That's right! It's that child!"

"The thunder of the Father of the Sky," Wyatt gasped, "But he... but he looks to be less than sixteen..."

"Etc..."

Wyatt looked at Carlo: "Didn't you fight him before?"

Carlo frowned, thought for a moment, and shook his head:

"That was just a disguise. We didn't use any force, but he was indeed quite strong."

After speaking.

There was a few seconds of silence in the cubicle.

"Are you really sure?" Wyatt couldn't help but ask again.

Carlo hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do.

The key point is that this thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy has good swordsmanship, good physical fitness, and even knows a few spells...

Time is limited, just a dozen or so years.

If you spend all your time on swordsmanship, you won't have time to learn magic. If you don't learn magic, you won't have much time to train your body. You're good at everything, but combined, you're able to kill Ronnie Dickinson...

This... this is almost impossible.

"Oh, right!" Carlo suddenly thought of a question, "Do you know what the child's name is?"

"Ailin!"

Wyatt did not answer.

Milo, dressed in knight's armor, pushed open the door from the outside and entered.

"That child's name is Ailin."

He glanced at the cubicle, his gaze lingering on the pool of blood for a second on Ronnie Dickinson's unseeing head before quietly looking at Wyatt and Carlo.

Wyatt was the first to surrender, blinking his Little Eye guiltily and lowering his head.

Carlo, on the other hand, remained completely calm as he stared at Wyatt.

"There's not a single injured person outside," Milo said. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

The cubicle was quiet for a few more seconds.

"Where is Lord Evans?" Wyatt couldn't bear the heavy atmosphere and broke the silence first.

Milo said calmly, "They were kidnapped by the Witcher of the School of the Wolf, who took them with them on Greater Griffin."

"Oh, I was taken on a lion..." Wyatt was stunned, "I was taken on Greater Griffin?!"

He could understand whether Evans was kidnapped or killed.

But why did the Greater Griffin suddenly appear?

Or perhaps it's the Witcher of the School of the Wolf leading Greater Griffin...

How are these words put together?

Carlo also lost his composure and stared at Milo in astonishment.

Sigh~

Milo was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head, sighed, and roughly recounted what had happened in front of the tower.

After speaking.

The cubicle fell silent for a few seconds, and Wyatt and Carlo looked at each other in bewilderment.

Wyatt chuckled, "You must be talking about some chivalric romance novel, right? It's quite interesting. All the ones I've read are about dragons..."

Milo, holding his helmet in one hand, watched him silently, causing Wyatt's smile to gradually freeze, his throat to dry, and he to gradually lose the ability to speak.

"Are you... really telling the truth?!"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Milo said coldly.

Wyatt and Carlo exchanged another glance.

Carlo asked, "Given the current situation, what are you planning to do?"

"I have already sent messengers to Tretog with the news of what happened tonight," Milo said. "The king's orders will arrive by tomorrow evening, and perhaps with a large group of troublemaking nobles."

He paused, then glanced again at the blood-soaked cubicle:

"I will wait for the King's instructions before sending a letter to the Rissberg Civil Conglomerate."

"Take advantage of this time to do things thoroughly and don't leave any loose ends."

Carlo and Wyatt paused for a moment, then said, "Thank you."

"Just a baron, nothing to worry about, but don't forget our mission." Milo's gaze lingered on Carlo's eyes for a moment before he turned to leave.

"What will happen to the School of the Wolf?" Carlo suddenly asked.

"I don't know," Milo shook his head, "But our king is ' The Bald ' Radovid IV, so what do you think?"

Carlo was silent for a few seconds before saying, "Even if there are Greater Griffin?"

Milo left with a single sentence, then turned and left without looking back.

"Even if there are Greater Griffin!"