A furious screech jolted Allen awake.
"I actually fell asleep!"
Startled, he sat up, only to find Vesemir still kneeling on the ground, deep in meditation.
There was no sign of the royal griffin in the sky.
Clearly, the cry that woke him wasn't from the royal griffin returning with its majestic aura of presence.
"Was that… a nightmare?" Allen couldn't make sense of it, though he had an odd feeling it wasn't a dream. It felt more like a response—like an echo in a canyon after a shout.
Could it have been the "Wild Speech"?
Recalling what happened before he "fell asleep," this was the only explanation he could think of.
The Witcher smacked his lips, noting a faint chill on his tongue, as if he had just drunk from a mountain spring. His thoughts were unusually clear.
"My perception seems… noticeably sharper…"
------------------------
[Name: Allen][Level: 58]
[HP: 100%, Stamina: 640/640, Mana: 780/780]
[Attributes: Strength 70, Agility 61, Constitution 63, Perception 80 (+3), Mystery 79]
[Affinities: Water 16 (Magic Source: Water +6%), Earth 12 (Magic Source: Earth +2%), Wind 10 (Magic Source: Wind +0%), Fire 7, Space 2]
------------------------
"Huh? It went up by three points!"
Startled, Allen quickly looked up at the sun's position to estimate the time.
"Two hours! I only 'slept' for two hours, and my Perception increased by three points!"
Three points of Perception might not seem like much—just enough to feel a tangible improvement. Drinking an extract from a large magical beast could easily give multiple times that amount.
But still!
But still!
The Beast Roar: Berserk technique only increased by four points in a whole week! In comparison, two hours of training Beast Roar: Wild Speech was astonishingly effective.
"Wait, no. If it were truly this effective, I would have noticed back at Kaer Morhen during my first training session. But at that time, it progressed as slowly and arduously as Beast Roar: Berserk—if not even slower..."
"What's going on here!"
Allen widened his eyes in disbelief.
------------------------
"Hmm? Allen, you—"
Vesemir's sudden voice interrupted his thoughts.
Allen turned towards the sound.
The Witcher master was rising to his feet, using his knee for support, his expression slightly puzzled as he looked at Allen.
"Master Vesemir, sorry for disturbing you..."
Before Allen could finish, his body jolted. He instinctively raised his head.
A black dot appeared in the cloudless southwestern sky, rapidly growing larger. The faint scent of blood began to fill the air.
The royal griffin had returned!
Seeing the silhouette of the griffin left Allen dumbfounded.
Could the screech from his "dream" truly have come from the griffin?
"What nonsense are you spouting? Forget disturbing me—get on your horse!" Vesemir hastily untied the reins and leapt onto his horse.
------------------------
"SCREEECH—"
The roar, brimming with rage and identical to the one in his "dream," sent the entire birch forest trembling in fear. Creatures and monsters alike scurried to hide.
Allen's mind went blank for a few seconds. Almost instinctively, he vaulted onto his horse and followed Vesemir in pursuit of the griffin.
The sound of galloping hooves echoed through the verdant forest, with trees and shrubs becoming a blur as they sped by.
"Were you not meditating earlier?" Vesemir shouted against the wind.
The horse, calmed by the Axii sign, continued galloping despite the griffin's shadow overhead.
Allen, somewhat distracted, was lost in thought about the "dream." Vesemir's call snapped him back to attention.
"Ah… no, I wasn't," Allen replied. "I was… thinking about something."
"I knew it," Vesemir laughed heartily. "The griffin arrived earlier than expected. If you had been meditating, I'd have been the first to wake up."
"There's no way your newly enhanced perception could surpass mine so quickly."
At times, the Witcher master's competitiveness could be almost childlike.
Allen let out a few perfunctory chuckles.
In truth, Vesemir's current Perception was 84 points, only four points higher than Allen's.
Those four points wouldn't last long. Once Allen figured out why Beast Roar: Wild Speech had suddenly become so effective, it would only take two or three hours to close the gap.
The key was...
"Why did it suddenly become so effective?"
And beyond that…
"How did I sense the griffin's cry so far in advance, as if it were echoing inside my mind?"
The potential of the Path of the Beast Roar seemed far greater than Allen had imagined.
He returned his focus to Beast Roar: Wild Speech.
Allen had a strong hunch that his previous training methods for the Path of the Beast Roar were the clumsiest and least efficient possible. It was like solving a math problem by brute force instead of using a more elegant approach.
To be honest, he had a few ideas he wanted to try. But the jolting of the saddle constantly interrupted the golden energy coursing through his body.
Allen's mastery of the Path of the Beast Roar was still too shallow.
"I'll have to wait until we either capture the griffin or lose its trail before experimenting further," he thought with a sigh, looking ahead.
Through the gaps in the dense foliage, the massive crimson figure in the sky was rapidly pulling away.
"Of course, it'd be better if we could catch up."
But that was unlikely.
Those on foot couldn't match the speed of something flying.
------------------------
After chasing for less than half an hour, the two Witchers gradually pulled their reins to a stop.
The royal griffin in the sky had shrunk to the size of a thumb before vanishing among the trees. More importantly, a sheer cliff at least 30 meters deep stretched across the sparse forest ahead of their horses.
"Another dead end," Vesemir sighed, turning to Allen. "I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"
"Does it matter?"
Disheartened, Allen dismounted and walked toward the cliff, scanning its edges for a way across.
Unfortunately, both sides extended 20-30 meters into dense forest, disappearing from view.
Oddly, the terrain was reminiscent of the valley where Viscount Hudson's abandoned mine was located.
"There's definitely a difference," Vesemir chuckled, not leaving Allen in suspense. "The good news is…"
He pointed toward the towering mountains in the distance.
"Mount Adrel is no more than two or three kilometers from here. Once we cross this chasm, we should reach its base by the day after tomorrow."
"Hmm, that's good news indeed," Allen nodded. "What's the bad news?"
"I just observed the griffin's flight direction and posture. That beast definitely nests on a cliffside. Even if we reach the mountain's base in two days, finding its lair might take much longer." Vesemir gazed at the mist-shrouded peaks in the distance and sighed helplessly.
Allen remained silent.
A piece of counterintuitive monster lore surfaced in his mind:
Ordinary griffins mostly inhabit towering mountain cliffs, while royal griffins, though far stronger than their ordinary counterparts and still nesting among the mountains, prefer rugged rock walls rather than high-altitude environments.
Monsterology offers an explanation: royal griffins are so powerful that the sheer oppressive aura of chaos magic bestowed upon them is enough to deter other predators from approaching.
Thus, they don't need to nest in high places.
This piece of knowledge was why they decided to pursue the royal griffin based on its flight trajectory. Had it been an ordinary griffin, they might have given up instead.
But now…
Though the royal griffin's behavior was unusual, Vesemir—an experienced witcher who had become a master by hunting griffins—was likely correct in his judgment.
"If it were before yesterday, we could have pursued it without time constraints until we caught up. But now…" Vesemir shook his head and then added:
"Judging by Vilgefortz's demeanor, Ban Ard must have suffered heavy losses last night. Even if Aedirn retreats and negotiates peace due to the royal griffin, they probably won't have the energy to cause us trouble…"
Hearing this, Allen looked toward the distant Adrel Mountains but did not rush to respond.
Vesemir's point made sense.
However, peace talks between the two nations due to the events at Ban Ard the previous night might spare the Wolf School some involvement—but it was just one possibility.
If the battlefield remained active, most of Kaedwen's and Ban Ard's forces would inevitably be tied up.
The difference between these two outcomes for the Wolf School was significant. Furthermore, Vesemir avoided mentioning another point—perhaps he didn't even consider it a possibility.
If they gave up here and made a trip to Kaer Morhen, it would take two weeks… or even with a portal marker left behind, it would still be a week before they could return. Would the royal griffin still be here then?
Missing this opportunity might mean waiting a long time for another desired creature to appear.
Allen did not deny his own selfish motives. Having a flying creature, however, would be invaluable—not just for him but for the entire Wolf School.
"It's still early—barely noon. Let's look for a way across this cliff first. As for giving up..." Allen took a deep breath. "I'll think about it later."
Vesemir nodded slightly, patted his shoulder, and said no more.
He trusted Allen's character and abilities. Unlike dealing with younger witchers like Erni, Vesemir didn't need to make decisions on Allen's behalf.
Allen was already fully trained. He would make the best decision, better than any possibility Vesemir could think of.
Just like last night—had they gone to rescue people without any preparation, as suggested, they might have been turned into the eighth and ninth statues alongside the two sorcerers upon first contact.
-----------------------
The sound of hoofbeats slowed but remained efficient.
The terrain of mountain cliffs was much easier to navigate than rivers.
Though Vesemir verbally suggested leaving, his experience allowed him to find a vantage point and discern the cliff's layout in just half an hour.
It took less than ten more minutes to discover a natural stone bridge.
There was a two-step-wide gap in the middle of the bridge, but the horses leaped over it with ease.
Once Vesemir marked the spot on the map and crossed to the other side of the cliff along the royal griffin's flight path, it was just past noon. But in truth, today's hunt was over.
As mentioned earlier, without the royal griffin "leading the way," it was impossible to find its nest based on intuition alone.
Vesemir pulled on the reins, surveying the surrounding landmarks and calculating distances to mark them on the map.
"Have you decided?" he asked.
"I have one more method," Allen replied after a few moments of silence, dismounting his horse. "I can give it a try."
Vesemir sighed, shaking his head helplessly but not stopping him.
Allen didn't mind.
Ultimately, Vesemir's objections were rooted in a lack of time.
But the lack of time wasn't due to any real urgency—it was because too much time had been wasted.
With only half an hour, at most an hour each day, dedicated to pursuing the royal griffin, how could time not be tight?
After dismounting, Allen took a deep breath, focusing on a hypothesis in his mind. Then…
"Fir…"
The ancient, graceful syllable echoed through the empty forested mountains.
"Buzz~"
"Buzz~"
Two medallions hummed.
Golden-brown ripples visible only to witchers spread outward like waves in a pond, centering on Allen and extending quickly.
Within the fifty-meter radius of the ripple, countless lifeforms' auras appeared in his mind.
A raven hiding behind green leaves on a birch tree, a squirrel resting in a hollow trunk, a gray rabbit avoiding a black snake, earthworms ten meters underground burrowing through fertile soil…
All of these creatures could be influenced through Wild Speech, even engaged in simple dialogue, but it had no use for tracking.
Summer insects cannot discuss winter.
The simpler the creature, the easier it was to control—but their minds were also more chaotic. Allen could make a rabbit relax, pause, or extend its claws, but he couldn't make it guide him.
Not only because these simple-minded creatures were frightened senseless when the royal griffin flew past, but also because they lacked the intelligence found in many fantasy stories.
They had no concept of "direction" or "location." A command to lead the way to the royal griffin's nest would only make them run in circles. Of course, it might also be that Allen himself hadn't yet mastered this skill.
"It's not this…" Allen assessed the situation, summoning the raven, squirrel, gray rabbit, and black snake. After finding no changes compared to the past, he canceled Wild Speech.
Then, taking a deep breath, he noticed Vesemir's golden cat-like eyes widening with curiosity as the older witcher watched him, a mix of surprise and doubt on his face.
Allen crouched gently, his knees touching the ground.
Closing his eyes…
"Thump~"
"Thump~"
His heartbeat slowed, its unique rhythm becoming calm and steady.
In an instant.
Golden sparks flickered within his blood.
He noticed a difference.
Suppressing the sudden and intensifying drowsiness, he heard faint, soft voices—maternal, warm, kind…
It was as though these sounds, almost imperceptible at first, were trying to lull him to sleep, making him feel like he was cradled in the safest, coziest place in the world.
When they realized he resisted resting, these tender, soothing voices became teasing, using ancient words Allen didn't understand but instinctively comprehended to coax him:
"Child, what is it that you seek?"
Without hesitation, the witcher replied in his heart: "The royal griffin, I…"
Before he could finish, a sharp cry pierced the eastern sky over the Adrel Mountains.
"Skreeee—"
The monster's screech rang out.
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
352. The Royal Griffin!!!
353. The Reason the Royal Griffin Stays High.
354. How Much Did Mason Offer? I'll Triple It!
355. The Truth Exposed?
356. The Purpose of Vilgfortz.
"I heard it!"
Allen shouted excitedly in his mind, then leapt to his feet and mounted his horse.
"Made up your mind?" Vesemir, seeing Allen's resolute action, nodded in approval.
Knowing when to retreat is also a virtue of a witcher.
After all, they are just slightly stronger than ordinary humans. Not every monster can be dealt with.
"If you've decided, then let's leave quickly. The monsters driven off by the Royal Griffin's presence will soon return. If we leave now, there will be fewer troubles..."
"Wait!"
Vesemir tugged his reins and followed a few steps behind Allen before realizing something was amiss.
"We're going the wrong way! This isn't the direction back..."
The black horse raised its head, pointing toward the dense green trees, where the gaps revealed white, misty mountains beyond.
"We're not going the wrong way!"
Without looking back, Allen guided his horse eastward, following the faint cry echoing in his mind. He carefully maneuvered the horse around stones and sinkholes on the ground, shouting against the rushing wind: "We're continuing the hunt for the Royal Griffin!"
Hearing this, Vesemir paused, ready to say something.
Then he remembered Allen's earlier feats—summoning crows, squirrels, hares, and even a black snake with his spells. Vesemir opened his mouth, then closed it without saying a word, instead spurring his horse to follow.
---------------------------
"Wild Speech..." Allen focused on the faint call in his mind as he opened his Witcher Journal.
[Name: Wild Speech
Type: Beast Roar
Requirements: Initiation into the Path of Beast Roars, Mastery of "Beast Roar: Berserk"
Passive Effect: 1.Gradually enhances perception attributes through daily practice.
2. Reduces hostility from low-intelligence creatures.
Active Effect: Consumes energy, enabling the user to perceive the thoughts of low-intelligence creatures and convey simple commands.
Notes: "Are you sure the Way of Beast Roars isn't just the Druid's Path?" ]
"Druids, huh?" Allen's gaze immediately landed on the final note.
Witchers are aware of druids, who are as renowned as sorcerers. Druids are less a profession and more of a faith or sect.
They call themselves students of nature and the forest, communicating with plants and animals to understand the natural world. Druids wield powerful natural forces to maintain ecological balance.
Society often views druids as sages. To most people, druids serve as spiritual guides, herbal healers, and alchemists. Some druids even practice divination through animal entrails or cheese.
Additionally, there are "Vaedermakar" among druids—those who can manipulate weather.
"So that's it. 'Beast Roar: Berserk' is so powerful, there's no way 'Beast Roar: Wild Speech' could be so limited, only serving as a spell to communicate with monsters."
"The note was hinting all along—the real use of Wild Speech isn't as an advanced version of Axii but as a way to connect with nature like a druid..."
"The ability to communicate with low-intelligence creatures isn't just about talking to animals or monsters; it's about connecting with nature itself through plants and trees."
Recalling the ancient, gentle words that echoed in his mind, far more comforting than the image of Melitele's pregnant figure, Allen's excitement surged.
By a twist of fate, he seemed to have stumbled onto the druids' path of communion with nature!
The Path of Beast Roars didn't appear to be a single path but a combination of many different approaches.
What should he be called now?
A druid-witcher? A witcher-druid? Or maybe a nature-aligned witcher?
Wait!
It seemed like this wasn't even his only druidic path.
With his growing affinity for magic, a source akin to the energy of mages, and now mastery of beast roars and a connection to nature...
Wasn't he learning far too many things for a witcher?
However, if Wild Speech required communion with nature to practice, was he also training Beast Roar: Berserk incorrectly?
-----------------------------
The sound of horse hooves echoed as Allen pondered the path of Beast Roars, maintaining his pace without slowing down.
Every ten or so minutes, when the faint call in his mind would fade away...
Or when he encountered an impassable stream or cliff, forcing him to find another route...
Or when small monsters like drowners or minor beasts blocked his way, which he swiftly dispatched before resuming the hunt...
He would crouch down again, using Wild Speech to commune with the Mother of Nature. And then, nature itself and the mountains would guide his way.
As the distance closed, though the Royal Griffin's cry became less frequent, its deep, thunderous breathing grew louder and more distinct.
Roughly three hours after Allen first used Wild Speech, before the sky had darkened, the two witchers arrived at the Adrel Mountains.
At the foot of the mountain, a sparkling river wound through forests and rocky shores, extending southward across the tree line.
The altitude brought cooler temperatures, though the summer sun still burned brightly overhead.
-----------------------------
"Rumble~"
A deep, thunder-like sound echoed.
"It's up there!"
Allen stood up in his saddle, pointing diagonally toward the opposite side.
"Are you sure?" Vesemir dismounted and looked up.
The white cliffs were dotted with pines growing from the rocky surface. Just a couple of meters above them, clouds hung low, seemingly within reach.
But the direction Allen pointed was obscured by the mist, making it impossible to see clearly.
"Yes." Allen nodded lightly.
Meditating in different directions and using Wild Speech, he could clearly hear the Royal Griffin's snoring—like midday thunder—pointing unmistakably toward that location.
Vesemir had been right: the Royal Griffin had defied its natural instincts, building its nest on a cliff at least a hundred meters above the ground, likely in a mist-covered ledge or cave.
"And it's likely resting after hunting. Our timing is excellent."
After tying his horse to a tree, Allen gazed upward once more.
His expression was resolute, as if he could see through the clouds to the massive, blood-red beast lying on the stone, resting.
Vesemir followed Allen's gaze.
However...
He neither felt the imposing presence of a massive monster nor saw a blood-red beast. Nor did he hear the thunderous snore.
All he saw was a serene, pure white cloud drifting leisurely in the sky.
How does he do it?
Vesemir wanted to ask.
Despite having higher perception, how could Allen know not only where the Royal Griffin was but also that it was sleeping?
Their relationship was straightforward, so Vesemir asked directly.
"I heard it," Allen replied.
Vesemir nodded seriously, signaling his understanding.
In truth, he didn't understand at all. But whether it was an increase in strength, a new ability from the Witcher's Eyes, or yet another new spell Allen had invented...
Miracles that would astound others seemed ordinary when it came to Allen. Vesemir was used to it by now.
To be honest, he still found it hard to believe.
Allen managed to locate the Royal Griffin purely through his peculiar method—pausing occasionally to meditate for a while.
But what could one say?
As Allen had once remarked, this sentiment was fitting for the moment—
"Since we're already here."
-----------------------------
The steep cliff ahead was impossible for the horses to climb.
Vesemir tied the reins of his horse to an oak tree near Carrot.
This journey had been relatively uneventful, with only a few minor monster attacks and no annoying drowners near the river at the foot of the mountain. Leaving the horses here seemed reasonably safe for the time being.
"Perhaps this is another indication of why the Royal Griffin chose this location for its nest," Vesemir said to himself as he stood before the sheer cliff face.
The cliff was so steep that it was nearly vertical, making it an imposing challenge to ascend.
Neither of the witchers had brought professional climbing gear. Then again, as the mightiest warriors of the human world, Witcher Masters were the cream of the crop. Their tempered and trained bodies were the most reliable climbing tools in existence.
Moreover...
Life has a way of demonstrating its resilience in unexpected places.
As they climbed, they found that every ten meters or so, there were pine and cypress trees clinging stubbornly to the rocks. Growing in the thin seams of the cliff with barely any soil or nutrients, these trees were not only verdant but also strong enough to support the weight of two witchers at once.
Allen frequently took advantage of these robust branches to pause and meditate, determining the position and condition of the Royal Griffin.
Finally...
Vesemir suddenly stopped, hooking a single finger onto a rock outcrop, and turned to Allen with a look of surprise.
His expression said it all: "Hey! You really did find the Royal Griffin, kid!"
After climbing another dozen meters, Allen too could sense the overwhelming presence of the Royal Griffin.
"Whoooom—rumble~"
Its snores sounded like thunder gathering within the clouds overhead.
The two witchers exchanged a glance and silently continued climbing, careful not to make any noise, not that they were making much to begin with.
Without incident, they reached the edge of the Royal Griffin's nest.
The snores of the monster above were almost deafening, while the air was thick with the metallic stench of blood mixed with the rank odor of decay. It was almost tangible, like a heavy liquid running down the cliff face, washing over their bodies.
Dark red blood stains streaked the rock above them, trickling down the surface before drying in place.
For the last ten meters, the area was entirely coated with these crimson streaks, and the surface was so slippery it was almost treacherous.
The two witchers slowed their pace significantly. Using rags they carried, they wiped down their footholds while holding their breath and cautiously climbing.
What should have been a short ten-meter climb ended up taking longer than the rest of the ascent combined.
From the edge of the cliff, two pieces of dark red cloth peeked out and wiped at the rocky surface before retreating.
Moments later...
The witchers grabbed onto the cleaned footholds and peered into the nest.
The Royal Griffin had built its nest in a natural cliffside cave. The cave was large enough to let the mountain winds howl mournfully through it, yet small enough that the single Royal Griffin inside occupied two-thirds of the space.
"Whoooom—rumble~"
The whistling winds were punctuated by the sound of deep, thunderous breathing.
At first glance, the beast appeared as though it were a massive ball of black and red flames, burning quietly amid the pale, ghastly remains of its prey.
But upon closer inspection, it became evident that this was no fire—it was the griffin itself, its body hidden within its vast, sky-darkening wings as it rested.
The witchers exchanged a quick glance, made a series of silent hand signals confirming the area was safe, and climbed over the edge.
Instantly, they were hit by a suffocating wave of rot and blood, so intense it felt almost solid, accompanied by the oppressive aura of the monster's overwhelming presence.
Standing this close, the griffin appeared even larger than the one they had killed a few months ago.
Allen crouched low, scanning the cave.
The cave held only this single Royal Griffin, but it was clearly a fully grown adult.
Given its recent, relentless attacks on Vengerberg...
"There's no doubt about it," Allen whispered. "This must be the mate of the griffin we killed three or four months ago. Only a griffin's fierce loyalty to its partner could explain such violent behavior."
"The last one was male, which makes this one female..."
Crouched behind a half-height pile of rubble, Allen clutched the green Behemoth Snare tightly in his right hand, the rope tied securely around his waist.
His first "flying companion" was within reach. Its majestic form and even its breath stirred an uncontrollable excitement in him. Soon, this Royal Griffin would be his!
But then...
"Splish~"
A sudden sound came from beside him.
Vesemir had stepped into a pool of blood hidden under a layer of dust.
"Damn!" the Witcher Master cursed inwardly.
"...Boom!"
The Royal Griffin's snores abruptly ceased.
Its overwhelming presence grew even more intense, pressing down like a mountain.
"Scraaape—"
The wings unfolded, and claws harder than steel scraped against the rocky floor, creating sparks.
The eagle-like head, massive as a small hill, turned toward the cave, its piercing golden eyes scanning its surroundings with vigilance.
The blood-soaked, desolate cave chamber, the cool mountain winds, the pure white clouds drifting across the blue sky...
Everything seemed as it should.
"Caw~"
The griffin's head, adorned with glossy black feathers, tilted in confusion.
After a questioning cry, its wings folded back over its head. Before long, the cave echoed once again with its thunderous snores.
"Whew~"
From the cliff edge, a faint sigh of relief could be heard as the two witchers reappeared from behind the illusionary rubble.
Vesemir gave Allen a gentle pat on the shoulder, a hint of apology in his eyes.
While it was true that if one could take down one Royal Griffin, they could probably manage a second, Vesemir was worried that being discovered might jeopardize Allen's attempt to capture it.
Moreover, their current position was precarious. A single sweep of the griffin's wings could send them plummeting to their deaths.
And then there was the previous griffin hunt—thanks to Allen's Witcher's Eye, they had barely survived the dangerous encounter. Fighting in such a confined space was not a risk Vesemir wanted to take.
Allen shook his head, indicating he didn't mind.
The blood puddle had been well-hidden, covered with undisturbed dust. Even he might not have avoided it.
With that...
The two witchers moved forward silently, carefully avoiding similar "traps" as they advanced.
"Whoooom—rumble~"
The loose rocks on the ground seemed to tremble with the griffin's breathing.
The closer they got, the more its immense presence, combined with the aura of chaotic magic surrounding it, caused their hearts to pound uncontrollably.
"Thump~"
"Thump~"
Suppressing the frantic beating of their hearts, the two witchers reached the perfect spot to use the Behemoth Snare.
However, the lasso required them to secure the target's head, and the griffin's eagle-like face was still hidden beneath its powerful wings.
Allen and Vesemir exchanged another look, took a deep breath, and prepared themselves.
"Bang!"
A sudden noise echoed through the cave, and the snores ceased instantly.
"Screeeech—!"
The Royal Griffin let out a furious roar.
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
353. The Reason the Royal Griffin Stays High.
354. How Much Did Mason Offer? I'll Triple It!
355. The Truth Exposed?
356. The Purpose of Vilgfortz.
357. The Next Conjunction of spheres.
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