"Boom—!"
A deafening roar shook the air. The ceiling, walls, and floor all trembled violently.
The witcher and the mage instinctively ducked their heads, used to such tremors, avoiding the dust and small stones raining down from above.
Turning a corner—
Along the corridor wall, a line of magical lamps flared to life one by one, casting a faint blue glow that illuminated the stone door at the end, carved with motifs of white roses, laurel leaves, and glimmerweed.
Inside the chamber beyond, there was nothing but a weathered statue—its features long eroded by time—and ancient elven-style murals covering the walls.
There was, of course, no secret passage leading outward.
It looked like a dead end.
But Vilgefortz and Allen didn't seem to care. Without hesitation, they walked straight inside.
"We're almost there…" Vilgefortz murmured, his tone low.
He carefully examined the structure of the chamber, then stepped past the worn statue toward a bare wall also engraved with white roses, laurels, and glimmerweed.
He studied it for a moment, then raised his index finger and tapped lightly on the wall.
No one knew what mechanism he had triggered.
"Zzzlaa—"
The chamber groaned as if alive. The wall adorned with the carvings split down the middle, opening to reveal a narrow space beyond.
A faint beam of daylight streamed from above, shining into the narrow recess and reflecting off a small patch of rippling water at its center.
Almost at the very instant the wall opened—
"S—save me!"
"Melitele, have mercy on your faithful servant! Please save my Yuri and Misha!"
"Run! Run! The monster's comi—AHHH—!"
"WAAAH—Mama! MAMA—!"
-----------------------------------
The sound of heart-wrenching screams, cries, prayers, and desperate wails pierced the air without warning, drilling sharply into the witcher's sensitive ears.
Allen's body froze for an instant despite himself, and he glanced toward Vilgefortz.
Vilgefortz, oblivious, stepped further into the chamber. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the shimmering water surface, then looked up and exhaled in relief.
"Most ancient elven temple escape tunnels lead out through a city well," he said calmly.
"Fortunately, it's the same for Ban Ard. And this well—after more than a hundred years—hasn't dried up, nor was it ever filled in by the city's builders…"
"Even half a year ago, when the Wild Hunt destroyed the city, it somehow survived intact."
"Allen, our luck really isn't bad at all."
"I thought we'd have to dig our way out with sword and staff—"
Boom—!
The faint shaft of light from the well above suddenly flared brighter, followed immediately by a deafening explosion.
The walls and floor shook violently.
From the ancient well, debris and dark shapes came crashing down into the water, splashing violently and soaking both Vilgefortz's mage robe and Allen's leather armor.
After a long moment, the ringing in their ears faded.
Allen's sensitive hearing caught something else—the screams, cries, and prayers from before had lessened, as though swallowed by the explosion.
Vilgefortz ignored his drenched robe, gripping his metal staff as he probed the air for residual magic. Then he shook his head.
"Just as I thought—Sunny and Ortolan have completely sealed the outer city. We can't use portals. The only way is to climb out of this well and find another route out of Ban Ard."
"The southern wall near the River Lixela isn't fully rebuilt yet. We might be able to slip through there…"
"Construction's been concentrated near the eastern gate recently…"
"The western side houses Ban Ard Academy, so that's impossible. The northern wall also remains unfinished, but not as much as the southern side—which suffered the worst damage six months ago…"
"But in the end, it all depends on Sunny and Ortolan…"
Vilgefortz frowned deeply, thinking for a long while without reaching a clear escape plan.
It wasn't entirely his fault—normally, the great Source Mage foresaw everything.
Originally, their plan had been simple: wait until Sunny and Ortolan led Ban Ard's and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization's forces away from the city, then quietly rescue Hen Gedymdeith.
In that case, they wouldn't need to worry about escape routes at all.
Once they were far enough from the sealed underground, they could have opened a portal straight to Kaer Morhen.
But now—no matter how they calculated it—every route was dangerous, even the northern wall that Vilgefortz had called the most damaged.
After all…
Would Sunny and Ortolan really be unaware of what Vilgefortz knew?
"No point thinking too much," Allen said, taking a deep breath and cutting off Vilgefortz's hesitation. "We'll deal with whatever comes. It all depends on how Sunny and Ortolan have arranged their guards."
"We'll move one step at a time."
Saying that, Allen stepped out of the dark chamber toward the well where Vilgefortz stood.
But just as one foot left the chamber and the other crossed the threshold toward the well floor, his body froze imperceptibly.
A sudden, tangible wave of danger struck him like a blade, making his heart skip a beat.
A chilling sensation shot up his spine from the base to the crown of his head.
And at that exact moment—
Vilgefortz, however, didn't notice Allen's strange expression. He froze for a moment after hearing his words, then nodded.
"You're right — we'll still need to adapt to the situation as it develops."
"Now then, you stay down here and watch over Hen Gedymdeith. I'll climb up and scout the surroundings…"
After saying this, Vilgefortz didn't cast any spell.
With a sharp clang, he drove the pointed end of his metal staff into the crevice between the smooth stones of the well wall.
Then, with his other hand, he drew a blade — longer and thicker than a normal dagger.
And like that, in a rather un-sorcerer-like fashion — clumsy and awkward — he began climbing up the moss-covered stone wall of the well, one inch at a time.
For Vilgefortz, this was by no means easy.
But to avoid alerting the patrolling mages and guards with magical fluctuations, he had to rely on his physical strength instead of sorcery.
Of course, as a Witcher, Allen was far better suited for reconnaissance work.
However, Hen Gedymdeith needed someone to watch over him, and though Vilgefortz was also a Source, he still felt discomfort and interference near dimeritium.
If anything unexpected happened, only Allen could react fast enough to handle it.
Fortunately, ever since the failed attack on him at Vengeberg in Aedirn, Allen had never neglected his training in physical combat and staff techniques.
Because of that, Vilgefortz didn't notice…
He had only climbed a few meters when cold sweat suddenly broke out on Allen's forehead and trickled down.
As he stepped across the boundary between the dark chamber and the bottom of the well, a sudden and fleeting vision flashed before his eyes—
In that instant when he emerged from the ancient well with Hen Gedymdeith on his back, he saw corpses, pools of blood, shattered ruins, and raging flames.
He saw Ortolan riding a skyborne beast — dragon-like but not a dragon — with a blood-red lance in hand, striking toward the skeletal knight…
But none of that was what truly triggered his visceral dread.
What froze him was the moment when the Wild Hunt warrior named Renakins, eyes burning with crimson ghostfire within his skull, suddenly turned his gaze downward.
That single look — sharp and cold as a blade — carried a killing intent that sliced across Allen's throat like an icy sword…
Then came the abrupt darkness, the swaying blur, and the damp stone walls illuminated by dim light from above.
Allen wiped the sweat from his brow and, with a thought, opened his Witcher Journal.
[Unstable Prophetic Power] — In a relaxed state, you may occasionally glimpse fleeting fragments of the future, momentary insights tied to personal crises.
The entry shimmered with a dangerous crimson glow.
"That final darkness wasn't just the end of the vision," Allen thought grimly. "It was when I lost consciousness — maybe even when I was killed outright."
Heart pounding, he glanced past Vilgefortz's awkwardly climbing figure toward the faint blue sky barely visible beyond the well, framed by fallen stones.
"If I so much as show my head, I die instantly… My guess was right — the Wild Hunt must have found a way to lock onto my location."
"They're coming for me."
"But…"
"Whether I blacked out or got killed, it all means one thing — Renakins isn't someone I can deal with right now."
"So what can I do?"
The Witcher racked his brain.
If they weren't in Ban Ard, if there weren't pursuers behind them, he could have stayed hidden here until the Wild Hunt and Ortolan finished their battle.
But Sunny already knew about this secret passage — it wouldn't take long before he caught up.
Staying here would only lead to death, even if the Wild Hunt didn't find them.
"How did they find me?"
Allen tried desperately to recall every detail of his prophetic vision, hoping for a clue.
But no matter how he replayed it, it was as if Renakins had some sort of tracking beacon on him — no, something even more precise.
The moment Allen surfaced from the well, the Wild Hunt locked onto him instantly — without any delay.
"How's that possible?" He frowned deeply. "I didn't trigger any Conjunction of the Spheres, and even if the vision was incomplete, it clearly showed that it happened just minutes later — three, maybe five at most…"
"Vilgefortz would have already scouted the area and found no threats. That would be the perfect time to leave."
"And while Ortolan was still fighting the Wild Hunt, I'd have no reason to perform a Conjunction — that would just stir up chaos."
"That would only draw both Ortolan's and the Wild Hunt's attention, making our escape even more dangerous."
"So if it wasn't the Conjunction… how in the hell did they track me so precisely?"
Allen's mind raced through countless possibilities in an instant.
For example—perhaps the Wild Hunt had already placed some kind of mark on him back in the Withered Forest; or maybe they used a power similar to his own Unstable Prophetic Power to foresee his appearance; or perhaps it wasn't even him they sensed, but rather that the enchanted black cloth couldn't conceal Hen Gedymdeith's magical aura under the very nose of the Wild Hunt...
But no matter which possibility surfaced, Allen rejected it immediately.
If it had been a mark planted back in the Withered Forest, he never would have made it to Ban Ard alive.
As for prophetic power—that was even less likely. The Wild Hunt had already been in Kaedwen for almost three months. If they had that ability, they would have found him long ago—they wouldn't have waited until now.
As for Hen Gedymdeith being the cause… not impossible, but unlikely.
"Splash~"
Vilgefortz landed lightly in front of him, his boots splashing in a shallow puddle, snapping Allen out of his thoughts.
Allen looked up to see the mage smiling faintly, an almost cheerful expression on his face.
"You'll never guess where this well leads to…"
"The Upper City," Allen said.
Vilgefortz froze mid-sentence. "How did you know that?"
Because I saw it… Allen thought to himself.
He casually made something up. "If you're that happy about it, then it must be a good location. But judging from the sound of the explosions, it can't be near the city walls—so it has to be somewhere we're both familiar with."
Vilgefortz nodded approvingly. "As expected of the Miracle Child. You're right—it's a place we both know. This well connects to the Upper City. Lydia's gallery, 'Shaeira's Courtyard,' is not far from here. We can hide in its basement for a while."
"Lydia might have even prepared an escape route for us in advance."
If not for his Unstable Prophetic Power, that would have been good news… Allen thought.
For a moment—even he almost felt a touch of joy, the kind that whispers fate is on my side. But unfortunately… his vision had already foretold a grim future.
Of course, that wasn't the fault of the Unstable Prophetic Power. Without that newly acquired ability, his next stop would have been Tir na Lia, the realm of the Alder Folk—whether alive or dead.
"Allen?" Vilgefortz's smile faded slightly, a faint frown forming.
"Hmm?"
"You don't look… very happy about this," he said, testing the waters.
"I'm not unhappy," Allen shook his head lightly. "It's just that we're not safe yet. This isn't the time to celebrate."
"No more talking—we should get moving."
"The gallery won't stay safe for long either. Sunny might realize where we went and send people to Shaeira's Courtyard to capture Lydia—and us."
With that, Allen looked up at the faint light streaming from the well's mouth. He took a deep breath and pulled out two pieces of black cloth, once again putting on 'Night·Shade.'
The Witcher's figure vanished instantly at the bottom of the well.
Not only that—
"Bzzz~"
With several low hums, the air around where he had stood began to twist and ripple.
The Mirage Pearl was creating a illusion.
Vilgefortz blinked, watching Allen's rapid movements in surprise.
"Shaeira's Courtyard isn't far from here, and there aren't many guards nearby," he said carefully. "You could just sprint over. Even if the illusion's magical signature is faint, it still increases the risk of detection."
The Witcher's cat-like blue eyes flashed briefly in the air, followed by the sound of his boots pressing against the stone wall.
"Trust me, Vilgefortz. This way is safer…"
Before Vilgefortz could respond, the murky, blood-streaked water at the bottom of the well rippled—as if answering Allen's words.
....
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