The evening glow painted the sky crimson, staining the land in a murky shade of red.
Puddles on the ground shimmered with oily sheens, shattered under galloping hooves and merging into the filth of the mud.
This was the only road from Kaer Village to the outside world, leading toward the nearest settlement—Drop Village.
But now, scattered along the path, mangled corpses appeared from time to time.
It was clear someone had tried to clean up, for the bodies weren't piled in the middle of the narrow road, but dragged to the roadside.
Yet the crude, half-buried graves dotting the distance told an even grimmer tale—these bodies were only a fraction of the dead.
The horror of war had never been so starkly revealed to witchers.
And the war itself had broken out hundreds of kilometers from this tiny village.
"Commander, the next group of necrophages drawn by the blood stench is up ahead."
The voice pulled Allen's gaze away from the ravaged corpses lining the road.
Erni, riding a dark red steed, pointed toward the thicketed woodland ahead.
"Fred scouted yesterday. Over a dozen ghouls, three Rotfiends, and maybe a Alghoul—but he wasn't sure. Too dark last night, so he didn't dare go deeper."
"Spencer actually wanted to charge right in and end it quickly, but Klar and I held him back for safety."
"You did the right thing," Allen affirmed. "Unless absolutely necessary, never fight monsters at night. Cat's Eye potions have limits—they're no cure-all."
Erni nodded.
"Our plan was to have Klar, Clay, Ice, Hugh, and Silo, who are off-duty, head down the mountain tonight and hunt together tomorrow.
But now that you're here, Commander, that probably won't be necessary."
Erni's eyes fell on a corpse by the roadside—its face and abdomen torn away. His gaze dimmed.
"Spencer is much more mature now, but while helping the villagers clear corpses, he saw too many desecrated by monsters. He couldn't hold back his anger."
"Klar also wanted to deal with the necrophages trailing the refugees early."
"But Master Vesemir and Master Danthe warned us yesterday before leaving, so we restrained ourselves…"
"But this morning…"
Erni bit his lip. "This morning, we woke to find a boy crying alone in the corner of the village. Yesterday, we'd seen him with his father… a bearded man. At noon, just outside the village, we found that man again…"
His voice faltered, the words crumbling away.
Allen glanced at the mutilated body beside them and let out a soft sigh.
He placed a hand on Erni's shoulder. "He was killed by the war. And the war… is not the fault of witchers."
A pause, subtle, almost unnoticeable.
"At least… not your fault."
Erni didn't notice the nuance in Allen's tone. He wiped the tears from his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced a thin smile.
"We know. But at noon, Spencer almost lost himself to anger—he nearly charged off alone. We calmed him only after promising to bring the boy to Kaer Morhen."
While speaking, Erni avoided Allen's gaze, only meeting it at the end, staring straight into his eyes.
Allen understood. He was silent for a moment before asking: "Did the boy agree himself?"
Erni's eyes lit up. He quickly nodded.
"Yes, yes. This morning, when he saw us, he clung to us—said he wanted to be a witcher. He swore he'd kill every monster in the world."
Allen fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
"Make sure he understands the trial's difficulty and mortality rate. Tell him about the version before the Drowner's heart extract was added," Allen said. "The Choice, the Trial of the Grasses, and the Mountain Trial may rarely kill anyone now, but you know full well how agonizing they are…"
Erni nodded with what looked like seriousness, but Allen could tell he hadn't really taken the warning to heart.
Erni and Klar had been the first witchers created after Allen himself. They had passed through the Trial of the Grasses and the Mountain Trial at a time when the mortality rate was nearly half. For them, the shadow of those ordeals was still deeper than in any of the younger recruits.
And yet, because of that, when the reforms came and the mortality dropped to nearly nothing, their fear bottomed out and rebounded—so much so that the tearing agony of the Trial of the Grasses, and the equally torturous, longer "Choice," now seemed insignificant to them.
But in truth, not a few apprentices had died in the Choice, in the merciless grind of its training…
"There are paths beyond becoming a witcher," Allen sighed softly. "The Temple of Melitele takes in orphans. And with Mayfest approaching, there will be plenty of couples in Ellander willing to foster a child."
"If there are more orphans like this in the future, keep them safe first. I'll speak with Vesemir and Danthe. They'll decide whether the child should take the Path or be sent to Ellander."
"I understand, Captain." Erni nodded firmly.
Allen didn't reply further. He gestured for Erni to keep leading the way, though his mind was still caught on the matter.
As a member of the School of the Wolf, soon to be its Master and Grandmaster, he knew he shouldn't be letting go of these orphans.
This war—already dragging Kaedwen and Aedirn deep into its mire—was more than just a chance for opportunists like Senni and Philippa Eilhart to indulge their schemes. It was also a rare chance for the Wolf School, starved of apprentices, to grow again.
If he seized this opportunity, their numbers would swell quickly. But…
Allen forced the thoughts down, refusing to let them flow further along the river of his mind.
"By the way, Erni," he asked quietly, "what's the boy's name?"
"Uh… Esk—Eskel. I think that's what he's called."
"Eskel…" Allen froze for a moment when he heard the name, then let out a long, weary sigh.
-----------------------------------
"Rooaarrr—!"
Amidst the rising chorus of screams and the lingering stench of fear, the witcher charged, spun, lunged forward, and spun again.
The silver-white gleam of his blade flickered with lethal brilliance.
On the battlefield's edge, Erni, who had just finished coating his blade with corpse oil, froze where he stood. He could only stare dumbly as hordes of necrophages fell before Allen's sword like wheat beneath a scythe.
The scarlet spray of severed heads was like fireworks, the explosions of Rotfiends in the flames beat like war drums, the screams formed the melody—and Allen danced a dance of death.
Before Erni could even join in, dozens of their "partners" had already been struck down, their corpses now part of the witcher's deadly performance.
By the time Erni snapped back to himself and thought to ask the Captain to leave him a few, the battlefield was already a graveyard—piled with corpses, with only the Captain still standing among them.
"…Has the Captain grown stronger again?" Erni muttered under his breath.
Allen had always been terrifyingly strong—that was nothing new. That strength was the reason they followed him so willingly, calling him Captain with sincere respect.
But each time they saw him fight, he was stronger than the last. As though his growth had no limit.
Yet, people were supposed to have limits.
When Erni was eight and first learning the Wolf School's two-handed sword style, his improvement across that year far outstripped what came at nine. Knowledge and the body's growth had ceilings. Witchers were not the children of gods.
Vesemir, Master Aristo, and Master Danthe had always been the unreachable summit. For all witchers, their goal was to one day reach the mastery of the School's greatest instructors.
At least—that had been true before Captain Allen appeared.
When Erni had not yet endured the Trial of the Grasses, the trainers had told them about a boy named Allen, who was already stronger than a normal witcher the moment he survived the trial.
One month after his own Trial of the Grasses, Allen was already spoken of as a "master," though his absolute strength still fell short of the established masters.
A few months later, during the Month of Blossoms, Allen returned for the first time—and in pure swordplay and Signs alone, even Master Aristo had been defeated.
After that, they followed him down the mountain: against Alghouls, against Vilgefortz of the Source, against a royal griffin… even against Evil Gods and a Leshen.
Somewhere along the way, Vesemir and Danthe—once the unshakable pillars of the School—were quietly surpassed.
And still, Allen grew. At a pace faster than anyone else.
"…Is there anyone at Kaer Morhen stronger than the Captain now?" Erni whispered. "Whitelock, Valerius, Gregor, Dylan—the Wolf School's remaining masters… could any of them best him?"
"And Chief? …Could he?"
"What about Chief?" came a sudden voice at his ear.
Erni jumped in fright, his face blanching. He leapt so hard he nearly cracked his head on the yew tree overhead—
"Careful." Allen's hand shot out, catching Erni by the scruff of his collar and pulling him back down.
Truth be told, it hardly mattered; with Erni's frame now, the only one who would've been hurt was the tree trunk.
Still—better to lend a hand.
"Nothing, nothing," Erni stammered, darting his eyes around until they landed on the unprocessed monster corpses. He seized the chance to change the subject. "Shouldn't we harvest those materials?"
Allen placed a boot in the stirrup and swung onto his horse. "I've other matters to attend to. I can't carry them. Bring a few men later and process them yourselves. Count it toward your merit points."
Merit points were a recent reform within the Company and among apprentices who had passed the Trial of the Grasses. The system encouraged initiative and helped structure the Company more efficiently.
Patrolling Kaer Morhen or Kaer Village, hunting monsters, turning in materials, brewing potions, teaching apprentices swordplay and Signs—all earned merit points. Those points could be exchanged for ready-made potions, oils, even mutagen extracts.
Allen had merely proposed the concept. The details had been entrusted to Mary and Master Aristo.
The system was working well. Erni, Klar, even Mary herself had shown greater enthusiasm than before.
Of course, their drive had never been lacking. But through careful balancing of point values, even less desirable duties—like patrolling Kaer Morhen's walls or long hours brewing potions—found willing takers.
"I'll send Silo, Hugh, and Ice," Erni said quickly. "They're short on points for Alghoul decoction trades and for private lessons with Master Aristo."
He swung into the saddle himself. "Captain, are we heading to Kaer Village now, or straight back to Kaer Morhen?"
"Kaer Vil—Kaer Village," Allen decided after a pause. "Take me to see this boy… Eskel."
-----------------------------------
Vesemir, Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert—these would be the only four witchers left in the future of the Wolf School.
Unlike Lambert—hot-tempered, sharp-tongued, prone to quarrels despite his loyalty and care for friends—Eskel was calm and rational by nature. He was dependable, trustworthy, and the very image of a Wolf School witcher.
It was also worth noting that Eskel and Geralt had grown up together in Kaer Morhen, close as brothers.
So then—if Eskel had already appeared at Kaer Morhen, could Geralt be far behind?
"By the way, Captain," Erni asked as he guided his chestnut horse into Kaer Village, suddenly glancing back, "did you come down the mountain this time just to clear out those necrophages?"
"What? You mean I'm not welcome?"
"Of course not—it just feels unusual. You're always so busy. We could've handled the clean-up ourselves, slowly but surely. Especially with Master Vesemir and Master Danthe around."
"I came to check on Kaer Village—and lend a hand with the monsters while I'm here…"
Allen spoke casually, but at the same time willed open his Witcher's Journal.
Ding!
[Monster Group "Rotfiends" Lv.27 exterminated!]
[Ding! Corps member detected. Corps Skill "Loot Lock LV1" available for activation!]
[Ding! New Authority detected—"Deception LV1 (Next refresh: Autumn Equinox)" available for activation!]
[Ding! Authority "Deception LV1" activated!]
[Reward Settlement: Base Rating D – "Beheading Intimidation" +3 → C, "Outnumbered Victory" +3 → B…]
[Final Rating: B]
[Loot Acquired: Alghoul Mutagen Extract ×17, Rotfiend Mutagen Extract ×3, Minor Experience Orbs ×9, Alghoul Treasure Chests ×4, Rotfiend Treasure Chests ×4]
-----------------------------------
[Authority: Deception]
[Level: 1]
[Type: Authority]
[Effect: Once per elven moon, erase one settlement evaluation result in a hunt.]
This was a new authority unlocked after the Witcher's Journal had fully absorbed the power of the Ancients.
Yet the real reason Allen had made a point to descend the mountain and hunt necrophages before heading to the Free Elves' camp—the reason he dared to think a single witcher's strength could matter in the war between Ban Ard and the Free Elves—was thanks to another permanent passive authority:
Once the conditions for completing a task were met, it would no longer be automatically completed. Instead, the host could decide when to trigger completion.
To put it plainly…
[Ding! Hunt Quest: Alghoul II (Kills: 250/250) – Ready for Completion!]
[Ding! Hunt Quest: Rotfiend II (Kills: 100/100) – Ready for Completion!]
-----------------------------------
"That's Eskel." Erni's voice cut through Allen's thoughts.
Erni didn't dismount. From a distance, he simply pointed toward the child sitting beside Klar, gnawing with difficulty on a piece of hard black bread among the refugees.
Only then did Allen realize—he didn't recognize Eskel.
In the books and the game, Eskel was a witcher with a scarred face, brown hair, and amber eyes.
But hair color and eye color both changed after the Trial of the Grasses, and the scar—that infamous mark—was something he earned only after becoming a witcher.
Now, the Eskel at Klar's side was nothing more than a filthy little boy.
And then—
Perhaps sensing something, the boy suddenly raised his head.
At the very instant their gazes met, Allen's ears filled with the sound of rushing water.
For a heartbeat, it wasn't a grimy child sitting beside Klar, but a towering witcher clad in scarlet leather, his right cheek torn by a brutal scar that stretched from the corner of his eye across cheek, lip, and jaw.
The man glared with amber cat-like eyes, cold and piercing.
Then, just as suddenly, the vision shattered, and Allen once more saw only the dirty child gnawing stubbornly at his bread.
Another flare of unstable prophetic power… Allen thought, watching the boy wrestle with the black bread as if nothing had happened.
"Should we go over?" Erni asked cautiously.
"No," Allen shook his head lightly. "I've already seen what I needed to see."
He lifted his gaze to the sky.
The heavens were awash in blood-red sunset, the sun sinking below the horizon, leaving only a dim, misty halo behind.
"It's getting late. Time for me to set out…"
He gave Erni a slight nod, then turned his horse and rode away from Kaer Village.
Erni instinctively raised a hand in farewell—before a thought struck him suddenly.
"Just returning to Kaer Morhen… then why did the Commander say 'set out'?"
.......
📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
1. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.
2. 30 advanced chapters of What year is this? You're still writing a traditional diary?.