Chapter 284: 285. The Behemoth Snare and Battle Roar of the Cyclopean Clan.
[Acquired: Experience Orbs 25, Purified Spirit of the Cyclopean Wraith 2, Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan 1, Battle Roar: Berserk]
The white-quality chest contained experience orbs, with each chest offering five portions of them.
Not bad at all.
The blue item was the Purified Spirit of the Cyclopean Wraith, the purple was the Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan, and the gold-quality item was a newly introduced skill—a battle roar.
As expected.
Even the lowest quality from a chest opened after defeating this massive Level 74 monster was better than the blue-quality of an average monster chest. With a thought, Allen inspected the specifics of the purple and gold-quality items.
[Name: Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan]
[Type: One-time-use Magical Item]
[Function: Secure the snare around the target's neck and tighten the clasp to bewilder lower-intelligence targets, significantly increasing the probability of them recognizing a master.]
[Note: Currently doesn't support capturing humanoid creatures. What were you thinking? It's a Behemoth Snare!]
The moment he finished reading the Behemoth Snare's information, Allen's mind naturally conjured up the majestic image of a archgriffin.
A one-time-use magical item…
A behemoth snare…
"This is just like the riding rope in regular games back in the day…" thought Allen. "It would've been great if I'd gotten this item a bit earlier…"
The cinematic of riding a colossal beast had filled him with envy. Imagine if he'd had this item before encountering the archgriffin…
The idea was tempting.
What man could resist the allure of soaring the skies on the back of a giant beast?
However, it would be challenging to find that archgriffin, perched on a cliff deep within the mountains, any time soon.
"I'll just have to wait until things in Ellander are over, then head back to Kaer Morhen to ask around," Allen mused. "Perhaps the more experienced witcher masters there might have some ideas."
He wasn't worried about whether the Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan could capture a top-tier monster like the archgriffin…
Based on his observations.
The "raptor" from the chest's cinematic sequence was far stronger and larger than the archgriffin. And don't forget.
The Cyclopean Wraith was already massive; any creature they deemed a behemoth must be extraordinary. Its size and power were likely unimaginable.
The thought brought a serious question to Allen's mind.
How large did the snare, used by the Cyclopean Wraith to capture such a behemoth, have to be?
Could he even hold and wield it?
With a thought, Allen summoned the Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan.
"Thud~"
A heavy sound echoed as a green rope, about as thick as Allen's arm and shimmering with a white magical glow, landed on the ground.
"As expected…" Allen exhaled in relief after sensing its properties as conveyed in his mind.
Of course, a chest wouldn't grant him an unusable item…
Even the grossest carrion could be used to feed a troll. This Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan could adjust its thickness to match the wielder's size.
In fact…
The snare was surprisingly light, no heavier than a standard vial of wraith oil.
Moreover, according to the "instructions" in his mind, the Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan would dissolve into the target upon successfully snaring and tightening, locking in its "spirit." It felt more like a physical manifestation of contract magic.
"Amazing…" Allen murmured as he ran his fingers along the snare's plant-like texture. "I wonder how the Cyclopean Clan invented such a magical item…"
This thought led him to mutter the words "Cyclopean Clan" a few more times.
Despite its name suggesting a primal, bloodthirsty tribe, creating such an extraordinary item—something beyond the comprehension of his own Level 4 alchemy skills and akin to a divine marvel—hinted at the immense strength of the Cyclopean Clan's enemies.
Allen's curiosity burned, as if countless tiny claws were scratching his heart.
He was desperate to know.
What was that vast, shadowy figure concealed in the dusty fog?
What kind of adversary could have driven the mighty Cyclopean Clan to a battle-to-the-death resolution?
"Whew~"
Taking a deep breath to calm his excitement,
Allen focused and stored the Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan back into his inventory, then turned his attention to the last item from the chest—the gold-quality "battle roar."
He was intrigued.
If an item like the Behemoth Snare could be classified as purple, just how powerful would a gold-quality battle roar be?
[Name: Berserk]
[Type: Battle Roar]
[Learning Requirements: Water Affinity 2, Earth Affinity 2, Fire Affinity 2, Wind Affinity 2, Mystery 50]
[Function: Consumes mana to unleash a roar, granting all friendly targets within range a berserk state unique to the Cyclopean Clan for a set time. After the berserk state, allies enter a weakened state.]
[Note: This is the first battle roar every skilled member of the Cyclopean Clan must master.]
The skill panel didn't reveal its full power. The terms "friendly targets within range," "a set time," and "unique to the Cyclopean Clan" were intriguing.
How large was the range, how long was the duration, and how powerful was the Cyclopean Clan's unique effect?
Allen still remembered the cinematic where thousands of people within a vast field were enhanced by the roar of the cinematic character. The Cyclopean Serpent Giant and its mount both grew by a quarter in size. Clearly, any enhancement capable of changing size was bound to be impressive.
"Since I already meet the learning requirements, I'll try it out when I'm back at Kaer Morhen…"
With this decision in mind, Allen learned the skill and set his gaze upon the last nine Cyclopean Wraith chests.
However.
After a few moments of thought, he decided not to open them yet. The items from the Cyclopean Wraith chests were of exceptionally high quality. Plus, the "first battle roar" comment in the "Berserk" description had piqued his interest.
The kind of roar that could grant an immensely powerful buff with a single shout aligned well with Allen's style, especially that of the monster-hunting army. If there's a first, there's bound to be a second, a third…
If possible, Allen wanted to learn as many as he could.
Therefore.
He decided to see if he could encounter the Goddess Melitele in his "dreams" and get a luck buff before opening the chests. After all, he didn't have any pressing need to boost his strength right now.
A few days of waiting wouldn't hurt.
The only thing was…
"I wonder when I'll get to see the 'Goddess Melitele' again…" Allen pondered.
Then.
He glanced out the window.
The sunlight was bright, the leaves lush and the birds chirping, all so harmonious that it felt as if last night's disaster had only been a nightmare. As if, in the next second. Lysa would come in humming, carrying a basket of fragrant breakfast. But sadly, this wasn't a nightmare.
After all.
At this time, with Allen's keen witcher senses, he should typically be able to hear the sounds of the entire temple awakening from afar.
Women praying and chatting, elderly matrons urging orphans to wake up and study, young priests, healers, and herbalists laughing and playing along the way…
But now.
Those sounds had vanished without a trace, leaving only the rustling of leaves in the wind and the crisp chirping of birds.
Allen sighed.
He glanced at the statue of Melitele, then sat cross-legged on the ground once more.
"The people in the temple must still be treating last night's wounded and dealing with the bodies of the deceased…"
Thinking this, the witcher closed his eyes and began to meditate.
"Allen…"
"Allen…"
-------------------------
"Allen…"
"Allen…"
The witcher suddenly surfaced from the "deep sea."
He opened his eyes, the piercing sunlight making his bright blue cat-like pupils contract into slits.
"It's still not working?" A cold female voice asked worriedly.
Without turning, the witcher shook his head and sighed deeply.
Today was May 4th.
It had been four days since that great disaster.
During these four days, the priests in the temple had been busy healing the wounded and collecting the bodies.
Vesemir had been summarizing and organizing information on the Wild Hunt for days. Vera taught Mary fire magic, and Mary introduced Yennefer to magic.
Everyone was busy and making progress.
Except for Allen…
The witcher sighed once more.
"It's alright," Vera walked over, patting his shoulder. "If it really doesn't work, we could check out Kreve Temple…"
Yes.
It had been four days.
Counting the meditation at dawn on May 1st, he'd meditated four times.
Actually, more than four times.
While others were busy these past few days, besides brewing a few bottles of enhanced Specter Oil and trying out "War Cry: Berserk" on himself, the witcher had stayed in the shrine room all day.
Every few hours, he would meditate again.
There were always some responses, but he could never enter that mysterious space.
Every time, a genderless voice would call out, "Allen… Allen…"
If there was no response, it would be fine. But to have a response each time yet still be unable to enter that state…
It was like trying to download a game in his previous life, only to get stuck at 99.99% every time, never able to complete the last 0.001%. It was incredibly frustrating.
Moreover.
Vesemir would finish compiling information on the Wild Hunt today, and the duke's reward, initially scheduled for two days prior, was now set to be collected today.
Which meant today would be Allen's last day in Ellander. Tomorrow, they planned to head back to Kaer Morhen.
"No worries, there's still one last night…" Allen stood up, giving her a reassuring smile. "Maybe tonight I'll dream of Melitele…"
He ignored Vera's suggestion of Kreve Temple.
If even the most widely worshiped deity on the Northern Continent couldn't help, what good would going to Kreve Temple do?
Allen had his doubts.
At least Melitele had manifested several times before…
Judging by Vera's expression, there were likely no familiar faces at Kreve Temple, or at least none worth owing a favor to. So there was no need to go.
Yet…
The witcher glanced at the faintly translucent "Divine Dreamwalking" in the corner of his eye, sighing in his heart. Those hundred experience points might be unavoidable.
"What state is the goddess Melitele in right now?" the witcher wondered.
Every day, it was "Allen… Allen…" as if the signal was weak, just on the edge of a service area. He felt Melitele genuinely wanted to help but was somehow hindered by something or separated by some barrier.
But…
What could block a deity, or restrict the influence of the most widely worshiped deity on the Northern Continent?
"Thud, thud, thud~"
Hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.
A young priestess he hadn't seen in a while entered. This time, she wasn't carrying breakfast.
Her large, bright eyes had dark circles around them, stray hairs falling across her forehead, and she looked so haggard it was as if she had become an entirely different person from a few days ago.
A faint smell of decay wafted from her.
"Just returned from Ellander, huh…" Allen thought.
When Allen estimated the damage the Wild Hunt would cause to Ellander on the day of the May Festival and with the departure of the knight guards and the monste hunting army, he underestimated it.
The two-day forecast for resettling the city's ruins and people stretched out to double that time due to a series of unexpected incidents. The temple's priests, herbalists, and healers hadn't slept in four days.
And how did he, a witcher in a shrine room, know this?
Because the duke's reward had been postponed twice.
"What's the matter, Lysa?" Allen asked softly. "Did Duke Mason change the date again?"
"No…" Lysa took a deep breath, shaking her head. "Archpriestess Ianna asked me to invite you to a funeral…"
A funeral?
You?
Allen and Vera exchanged a look.
Who would have a funeral that would invite them?
Who would have the honor for Archpriestess Ianna to invite the Red Fox?
Could it be that the duke had passed away?
"Whose funeral?" Allen asked curiously.
Lysa furrowed her brows sorrowfully, her expression mournful as she replied: "Ellander's funeral…"
"The Archpriestess and Duke Mason plan to bury those who died on May Festival collectively outside the city today, and they invite you and…" She bowed slightly to Vera, "Lady Vera, to witness and attend at the city gates…"
Ellander's funeral…
A ceremony at the city gates…
Allen felt a bit dazed, but seeing Lysa's urgency, he knew this was important.
Typically, wouldn't a funeral be announced days in advance?
Maybe…
He and Vera were last-minute invites?
"Shall we go?" the Red Fox shot him a look.
The witcher instinctively touched his chest.
Inside was a plain-looking oren coin.
"Let's go then…" The witcher wiped his face.
There wouldn't be time to freshen up. But after so many busy days, few people at the scene would be able to maintain decorum, and those who did wouldn't be worth their attention. So this would suffice.
As for meeting the goddess Melitele, and the nine remaining treasure chests from the cyclopean wraiths…
The witcher glanced again at the scarred yet kindly statue. They wouldn't leave until tomorrow, so there was still time…
There should still be time…
....
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286. Would the Wolf School Like to Move?
287. To Whom Should the White Iris Lance Charge!!!
288. Knight Allen.
289. "How Should I Kill Them?"
290. Divine Dreamwalking [Melitele].
Weekly Power Status
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