Kapitel 305: 306. The Sapphire's Sinister Red Glow.
Hearing those words, Aristo froze. The training ground around him instantly became a buzz of chatter. The apprentices murmured among themselves, debating their predictions and opinions on who would win.
Erni, Claral, and the other seven members of the witcher corps suddenly transformed from a passive state to one of fervent excitement.
At Kaer Morhen, perhaps only a handful of people, including Vesemir, truly understood Allen's extraordinary nature and strength. In some aspects of Allen's true potential, not even Vesemir had complete knowledge.
For instance—
A phenomenon they had named the "Gaze of the Witcher" a moment where a sudden, almost divine insight seemed to elevate Allen's understanding of skills to an entirely new level. This unique phenomenon was intimately connected to Allen, their captain.
In the first half of the year, the seven of them had tried countless times to trigger this effect without Allen in Kaer Morhen. They had even banded together to ask Master Aristo to lead them on hunts around Kaer Morhen for rare creatures like wraiths and foglets.
Drowners, a more common monster, were slaughtered in numbers beyond count.
But not once!
No matter how powerful the monster, they never once triggered the "Gaze of the Witcher" again.
This constant failure only made Allen's image in their minds more mysterious and powerful over the past six months.
If not for these personal revelations—
How else could they, who rarely even saw their captain due to his frequent travels, hold him in such high esteem?
And to the point where they'd willingly stand up for him and defend his reputation just now.
Because of this—
While other apprentices continued to harbor doubts, Erni, Claral, and the other seven were steadfast in their belief that Allen would emerge victorious. However, they didn't rush to counter the skeptical voices of the apprentices around them.
Instead, they looked on with a certain satisfaction, like prophets awaiting validation, taking silent notes of the faces around them.
Naturally—
Those faces were in the minority.
The elixir distilled from a drowner's heart increased survival rates for the Trial of the Grasses, the high-fatality Mountain Trials were reformed, and new blade oils, glyphs, and potions showed their advantages in real combat—all of these were changes Allen had brought to Kaer Morhen.
Since his tenure, every new apprentice was a beneficiary of Allen's legacy.
Some more, some less.
And because of this legacy—
Even apprentices who had never enjoyed the "Gaze of the Witcher" felt goodwill and gratitude toward Allen, an older brother they'd never even met.
Otherwise—
Most apprentices, only a couple of years younger than Allen, were at that prideful age.
Had they heard such words of dismissal toward Allen just moments ago, they wouldn't have responded so cautiously; they'd have spoken up with mere glances exchanged.
Of course—
There were also a few voices that denied, mocked, or even envied him.
Human nature comes in all forms.
Once the forest grows big enough, you'll find every kind of bird.
After hearing Allen's declaration to go on the offensive, Vesemir's heart also relaxed.
"Yes, with a few sips of Alghoul's decoction and Blizzard, Allen can still catch up—if he requests it, Aristo will certainly allow it," he thought.
But after a few seconds passed—
Vesemir noticed Allen showed no sign of moving toward the sidelines.
"What's going on?"
"What is Allen thinking?"
After his initial surprise, Aristo found himself pondering the same question.
Could it be that, during this sparring session, this youthful opponent standing before him still had the audacity to hold back?
At this thought, a surge of anger rose from his heart straight to his head at being underestimated.
"Hmph," Aristo snorted coldly. "Then let's see…"
Before he finished speaking—
Aristo pressed his foot firmly into the ground and launched forward like a tiger charging down the mountain, barreling toward Allen with the roaring force of the wind.
The fierce, angry face quickly filled Allen's blue gaze. His speed now was far beyond anything he'd displayed in the last exchange. The twenty-meter gap between the two witchers shrank in an instant.
Despite the outward display of fury, Aristo's mind was razor-sharp and focused.
Allen's words had indeed been bold, but judging by his past record, Aristo could not discount the possibility of a surprise.
Potions, gear, signs, swordsmanship…
Where was Allen's confidence coming from?
As his brain raced, scanning Allen's knees, abdomen, wrists, and shoulders, Aristo wouldn't let a single detail escape.
Swish—
The wind screamed like a banshee, howling in his ears.
More than halfway there, he still detected no particular skill or maneuver from Allen.
To Aristo, it was as if his young opponent had frozen on the spot in fear of the oncoming fury.
"Is Allen bluffing after all?"
A fleeting thought shot through his mind and vanished just as quickly. He couldn't believe that the witcher praised so highly by Vesemir would be as useless as his student, Sully.
Countless ideas and responses filtered through his mind within that short span of time.
At one specific moment—
A revelation flashed in Aristo's mind.
"Could it be that Allen's move requires a build-up time?"
With that thought, Aristo's eyes sparkled.
Yes, that was it.
Recalling the time-consuming incantations of the Ice Spear Sign, Aristo felt he'd struck the core of it. He increased his weight on his steps; his already swift pace turned into a blurred shadow moving even faster.
Due to the immense pressure, the gravelly sand of the training grounds scattered underfoot. Tiny pieces shot out backward, then dissipated mid-air into a hazy dust due to uneven air resistance.
The effect was astounding.
Although he was curious about the nature of Allen's confidence, he found the young witcher's arrogance infuriating.
That he would dare to hold back—
When Aristo recalled the calm, nonchalant expression on Allen's face after his warning, the rage only intensified.
Right then—
He closed in to within five steps of Allen.
"You've lost, Allen!"
Using the massive momentum of his charge, Aristo barely tapped the ground with his leading toe. Like a coiled hurricane, he spun in with blistering speed, unleashing a fierce gale in his wake.
On the first spin alone—
Boom!
The tip of his steel sword tore through the air with a sonic boom as turbulent currents enveloped the blade.
In his view, the steel seemed to bend from the force, as if it couldn't handle the immense pressure.
And this was just the first spin.
Thump!
Thump!
After two consecutive steps and rotations—
Due to the intense friction with the air, the sword's tip began to glow faintly red, like a branding iron heated by fire. This was Aristo's signature move, a skill he'd honed with a two-handed sword from the School of the Wolf—the Spinning Slash.
Once upon a time, Aristo had relied on this very skill to slay his first large monster—a forktail dragon. Back then, he could only manage one step and two spins. Now, although his physical attributes no longer improved as they did in his youth, his skills, honed over time, were immeasurably enhanced.
Even though his current three-step, three-spin maneuver wasn't his limit, he couldn't push it further. A regular Quen shield couldn't withstand this strike, and he worried about holding back his strength. Though Allen's arrogance annoyed him, Aristo had no intention of actually killing him.
A shrill whistle echoed as the tip of his long sword, shrouded in a misty white aura and faint red glow, slashed through the air. The final spin brought him close enough to lock eyes with Allen, prepared to ease his force if necessary.
To his surprise, he found no hint of panic in Allen's sapphire-blue cat eyes—only an eerie calmness, as placid as the still waters of a lake beneath the towering snowy peaks.
Why?
Aristo's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't understand it, yet his sword continued its course. The wind carried by his blade whipped Allen's hair, scattering it behind him. Then, just as his sword was about to pierce within a meter of Allen—
Aristo noticed a red light suddenly ignite within those sapphire-blue pupils. He thought it was an illusion until—
"Boom!"
A force more intense than that of a forktail dragon erupted before him. A fierce, instinctual sense of danger jolted Aristo to his core; his heartbeat surged as adrenaline flooded his system, gripping his longsword with renewed strength.
Something was wrong.
Before he could ponder the source of this overwhelming force, his sword was pulled forward by an unstoppable momentum, almost beyond his control, as if seeking to destroy anything in its path. It was too late to pull back now.
But did he even need to?
A faint hum resonated from his medallion on his chest, which vibrated intensely. An immense golden beast materialized in front of him, making him feel as insignificant as an ant.
"Yir…"
In that fleeting moment, the world itself seemed to echo a strange roar as he faced the enormous creature. Then, just before the illusion fully faded, a colossal force like an avalanche crushed down on him from the front.
In an instant, Aristo was flung backward, thrust back through the swirling dust he had kicked up earlier. Only after two steps and one more spin did he manage to release the momentum of his spinning slash and the force pushing him back.
Before he could clear the haze and understand what had just happened—
"…ulr…"
Another strange growl, ancient and savage, reverberated nearby. The oppressive force vanished with the sound, yet Aristo's skin crawled, a chill crawling up his spine. Amid the swirling dust that enveloped everything around him, it felt as if a terrifying monster lay hidden within the fog, waiting to emerge.
"Damn it!" Aristo cursed inwardly, realizing that he felt… fear? He wanted to reject the notion but was forced to acknowledge the deep-rooted unease his own body was expressing, a fear he hadn't felt since his days as a Witcher apprentice.
Back when his team fractured, only a handful of them remained under the lead of their first. They'd been seeking refuge, only to come face to face with a blood-red dragon along the way.
Under the weight of dragon's might, he'd struggled with limbs that refused to obey him, an indignity seared into his memory for centuries. Days after the dragon was slain, he'd forced himself to stand before its massive head and stare into its intimidating eyes until he'd overcome his fear.
Yet here he was again, with an all-too-similar feeling of dread in the wake of this vanished force.
What had Allen done?
A thought flashed through his mind. Aristo's nerves tensed, unable to tolerate the suspense any longer. Gathering his energy, he curled his middle finger and thrust it forward, casting an Aard sign. The powerful wave of force blasted through the dust cloud, revealing the empty brown ground and a distant group of Witcher apprentices, who were caught off guard as sand hit their faces but strained to see the training field.
Vesemir also stood there, meeting his gaze with a look of surprise.
"Where's Allen?" Aristo asked, startled.
In the next instant—
"Swish!"
A sharp sound tore through the air behind him.
When did he get behind me? And why did I sense nothing?
-----------------------
As he heard the sound, a flood of thoughts raced through Aristo's mind, but he had no time to react. He could only glance over his shoulder as quickly as possible.
Before he could fully turn—
"Bang!"
A heavy strike hit his thigh, shattering his Quen shield. Gold-colored magical light flashed briefly.
"Thud!"
Before the energy from the broken shield could even erupt, Aristo was flung straight out of the training field, propelled like an arrow past Vesemir's astonished gaze.
Landscapes blurred past on either side, forming afterimages. Though the strike had been restrained enough to spare his control, Aristo stubbornly resisted the opportunity to stabilize himself mid-air, instead struggling to look back.
He wanted to know who had defeated him—wanted to see with his own eyes, in real-time, the person who had struck him down without warning or chance of defense.
And so he saw it.
Amidst the dense cloud of dust, in a murky spot barely visible—
A sapphire, gleaming with a foreboding, furious red glow.
.....
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307. The Golden-Furred Beast.
308. Surviving Together.
309. "I'm Your Elder, Can You Trust Me a Bit More?"
310. Lone Wolf's Death, Birth of the Pack.
311.How a Magical Lady Should Cleverly "Charm" a Handsome Gentleman.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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