By the time Witt rode to the city gates, the soldiers who had been standing guard had all disappeared. Whether they had gone to fight the fire or fled for their lives, he did not know.
Watching the crowds streaming out, Witt dismounted and slapped his horse hard on the rump, sending it away. There was no time to tether it properly, so he could only let the black horse leave with the panic-stricken refugees.
Witt entered the city. Chaos and panic filled the streets, and flames mercilessly devoured every building, as though determined to reduce everything to ashes.
Things were slightly better in the residential district. The academy district, where the fire had started, presented a scene straight out of hell.
When Witt reached the gates of Ban Ard Academy, he found that its once magnificent main building had already collapsed. Burning timber and masonry kept falling from above amid explosive cracks and pops, while billowing smoke and dust deepened the already murky night.
These supposedly superior mage apprentices were no better than ordinary people when fleeing disaster. They crowded together and clawed at one another, terrified that falling a single step behind would leave them swallowed by the flames at their backs.
After using the Aard Sign to blast aside quite a few apprentices charging blindly about, Witt finally reached the vicinity of Old Graz's courtyard.
Flames surrounded the entire courtyard. Once spacious and comfortable, it had become a field of rubble. The little trees that had grown there had long since been devoured by fire, reduced to charred trunks and ash swirling through the air. The medicinal herbs planted beneath them had withered and turned pale, stripped of their former vitality.
A deathly smell of sulfur permeated the courtyard. Together with the smoke and dust, it brought a sense of dread and suffocation from deep within.
Old Graz lay to one side, the edges of his exquisite mage's robe scorched and a dagger embedded in his abdomen. The old mage kept using magic to stabilize his injuries, but the poison on the dagger left him in agony, his head drenched in sweat.
Geralt stood before Old Graz with a sword in one hand, casting the Quen Sign to protect his old friend from further harm. But doing so also deprived him of any opportunity to attack his opponent.
He was waiting for an opening, and that opening had arrived.
Facing Geralt, Hector stood amid a raging fire. The flames seemed to do him no harm; they even clung to his hands, forming terrifying weapons like claws.
His face was filled with arrogance. Holding both a master witcher and a mage at bay was an achievement enough to fill the first résumé of his glorious career.
When Witt came into view, Hector could not help frowning and clicking his tongue.
"Witt, you're here." Geralt recognized Witt's footsteps, but did not turn around. Although the academy traitor before him posed little pressure, Geralt still gave the confrontation his full attention.
"Yes. The succubus is dead, and the missing people were found nearby too. I imagine all of this was Hector's handiwork," Witt said in a low voice, his face expressionless.
"Ahahahaha..." A smile twisted by jealousy appeared on Hector's face. "It's all that bitch's fault for refusing to submit to me, no matter what. Still, she was only ever a tool for getting rid of those useless apprentices. She's dead, so what? No great loss. You have no idea how incredible it felt when my knife pierced her heart. It was like being carried into the clouds. I'll have to find another bitch to try it on when I get the chance."
Hector extended his scarlet tongue and licked his lips, dried out by the heat.
"Have you become so impotent that this is what it takes to get you off? How pathetic." Witt walked in front of Geralt and waved for him to help stabilize Old Graz's injuries, then drew the steel sword from his back.
"You!" Hector pointed at Witt furiously, enraged by his words.
"Only a blind old fossil like Graz would give you the Ring of Favor! I've served and studied under him for so long, yet he never showed the slightest intention of giving it to me. And he was going to send that Zatt to Aretuza Academy on an exchange! Why not me?! How am I worse than anyone else?!"
Witt sneered. "Send you to Aretuza to set fires? The sorceress apprentices there would only be stronger than you. Don't tell me you think that sculpted 'perfect' face of yours could catch their attention?"
As he spoke, Witt kept moving. Taking advantage of his opponent's distraction in his fury, he gradually closed in on Hector.
"Shut your mouth!" Hector roared.
Now! Witt thought. He ducked low and surged forward, simultaneously casting the Aard Sign backward with his left hand to propel himself. In an instant, he crossed several dozen paces.
"What?!" Hector barely had time to cry out.
A vicious gust from the sword rushed straight at his face.
Witt opened with a merciless killing blow, but Hector's expression shifted from alarm to mockery, giving him a bad feeling.
Clang! A burst of magical radiance erupted in front of Hector. Though it stung his eyes, it also blocked Witt's surprise attack.
Crack. A fissure appeared in the necklace on Hector's chest.
Hector was no pushover either. Seeing the witcher's attack fail, he hurriedly thrust his left hand upward, aiming to plunge it straight into Witt's heart.
But the scene he expected never came. The instant his attack was countered, Witt had used the chaos magic within his body to cover himself with a Quen Sign.
With a bang, golden light burst apart. Hector's fiery claw was likewise stopped by the Quen Sign.
"What?!" Hector cried out again. Arrogant as he was, he had never expected the witcher to react so swiftly, or to have another move ready even amid the shock of a failed attack.
Seizing the instant Hector was distracted again, Witt thrust his left hand forward and grabbed Hector's face. To cast as swiftly as possible, this time he used only the chaos magic remaining within his body, drawing no fire elemental power from the air.
Flame.
Crimson flames appeared before Hector's eyes, a mighty force that devoured everything.
Igni Sign!
"Aaaaaaaaaah!!!!!" As Hector howled in agony, the rage suppressed within Witt kept pouring out as well.
Under the Igni Sign's assault, cracks kept appearing in the protective necklace on Hector's chest.
One.
Two.
Until it shattered in an instant.
Boom! Ravaged by the flames, the protective necklace performed one final service for its master. The magic released as it shattered pushed Witt away, interrupting his casting of the Igni Sign.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Aaaah! My face!" Hector crouched on the ground, clutching his face and wailing in agony. Protected by the necklace, he had not taken the Igni Sign's flames head-on, but their accompanying heat had still melted his face, revealing his original, ugly appearance.
Witt wanted to waste no more words. He raised his sword and delivered another heavy slash at Hector, only for it to be deflected once more by the magic on his body.
"This..."
Before he could finish expressing his surprise, a golden vortex appeared behind Hector.
A portal!
Was there another mage here?!
Sensing trouble, Witt hurriedly reached for the earth elemental power in the air and covered himself with a thick Quen shield to guard against magical attacks from the shadows.
Meanwhile, Hector knelt on the ground with tears filling his eyes, cradling the ruined necklace in both hands as he sobbed, "My master, you've finally come to save me."
A deep, resonant voice came from the other side of the portal. "Useless fool. You had better hope everything you've said is true."
"Of course it's true! And I've already completed the task you originally assigned me," Hector pleaded at the top of his voice. "I, the lowly Hector Rience, offer you my most sincere respects."
With that, Hector vanished along with the portal.