There were no surprises.
Sunny and the warlocks of Ban Ard's radical faction, who had fled in panic, were all turned into charred corpses beneath the black dragon's white-hot flames.
The highest-level magic barriers were thinner than paper.
Allen hadn't even expected it to be this easy.
After all, that was Sunny—the daring and reckless high councillor of the Sorcerers' Conclave who had overthrown Hen Gedymdeith,
the original first king of the Sorcerer Kingdom, and a man destined to join the Chapter of the Gift and the Art.
For that very reason, even though he could control the black dragon's breath, Allen had deliberately made the dragon kill Sunny with its claws—to prevent him from escaping through some ability immune to dragonfire or chaos.
The Ban Ard radicals by Sunny's side were not weak either,
but they all perished beneath the dragon's breath.
The only unexpected event just now had been Sunny and his warlocks' use of their costly instant-trigger gems— unleashing a tide of elemental magic.
When those gems shattered, Allen reacted immediately and tried to make the black dragon evade.
But the massive body was like a galloping horse trapped in a narrow alley—it couldn't avoid the overwhelming storm of elemental spells in such a short time.
At that moment, he truly thought this black dragon's body would be destroyed.
Unexpectedly, other than having its dive halted by the impact,
it had endured the barrage head-on—without suffering a single injury.
The crimson giant eyes lowered, overlooking all below.
The layered scales on its chest were like meticulously polished obsidian crafts—not a single flaw to be seen.
Perhaps it was magic immunity—but more likely, it was the sheer hardness and strength of its flesh.
And below that…
The solid stone-paved ground had been scorched into flowing, molten crimson rock.
The upper district, already half-ruined, now saw yet another street collapse entirely into fiery rubble.
"I seem to have underestimated this black dragon's body…" Allen thought.
"But even if it's already this powerful,my control over its body still hasn't reached perfection."
"This body and these wings—so full of strength—if they can endure so many powerful spells, then they should also be capable of evasion."
"That sluggishness isn't from a lack of power—this body wasn't born to rely solely on its scales to block every spell."
"It's that I still lack practice…and a deeper familiarity with this form."
As this thought passed through his mind, Allen instinctively sensed something amiss.
His thinking froze for an instant— then the black dragon's head snapped to the side.
Its bat-like wings flared, and its right claw swept upward, shattering a streak of flying red light.
Boom!
The red light exploded, a fireball bursting before the black dragon,
its intense heat washing over its scales—yet leaving no trace of injury.
Whoosh
The dragon's wings lifted, and with a single gust, it blew away the flames clinging to its scales.
The scattered fire fell to the ground like droplets of corrosive acid,
instantly burning deep holes into stone slabs, marble ruins, and fountain statues alike.
Who?
The crimson pupils followed the path of the red light—
At the end of the street, a troop of red riders of the Alder Folk, mounted on skeletal horses, charged out from around a corner.
Beside the Wild Hunt captain, Renakins—whose eye sockets burned with scarlet soul-flames stood another of their kind, robed in the garb of a mage, lowering a black steel staff he had just raised.
And behind them—
Clatter, clatter, clatter…
A vast host of the Wild Hunt, no fewer than the number that had descended upon the Withered forest, lined up behind Renakins in perfect formation.
A fierce wind swept through the street, making the rusted armor on the Hunt's soldiers clang dully.
'Ortolan and Sunny were truly useless'Allen thought.
Two fierce battles—at the Withered forest and at Ban Ard—
and they hadn't managed to kill even a single member of the Wild Hunt.
Even Hen Gedymdeith and the Ban Ard warlocks, caught off guard, were forced to send most of the Wild Hunt back to Tir na Lia.
(Effect of the Wild Hunt's Warlord Armor set "Rebirth": Upon receiving a fatal blow, the armor can be sacrificed, either actively or passively, to transport the wearer to a predetermined location via the Spiral. Current saved location: Tir ná Lia.)
Could it be that Ortolan and Sunny were slacking off?
Of course, Ortolan and Sunny couldn't possibly be slacking.
They'd been eager to capture members of the Wild Hunt for research, to stabilize Ban Ard's order, and to achieve what even Hen Gedymdeith could not.
That left only one explanation—
This group of Wild Hunt led by Renakins was far stronger—
stronger even than the large force Hen Gedymdeith had once faced.
So strong that even though Ortolan and Sunny had long prepared for their arrival, they could only manage a stalemate, unable to inflict any real damage.
"...Hah~"
Letting out a long breath, the witcher bent low, pressing himself close against the black dragon's back to conceal his presence.
The dragon's crimson pupils stared coldly at the Wild Hunt below.
"Thief. Tell me…"
Renakins sat high upon his tattered horse, his worn cloak fluttering wildly in the wind.
Scarlet ghost-flames burned quietly within his empty eye sockets.
Ignoring the dragon's massive size and overwhelming pressure,
he spoke in a cold tone: "Who are you? From where did you obtain the power of Ard Gaeth's Gate? And where did your Warlord Armor come from?"
The black dragon remained silent, its blood-red pupils watching coldly—yet the edges of its gaze swept past the Hunt's ranks, scanning their surroundings.
If the Wild Hunt had survived the fall from the sky unharmed…
what about Ortolan?
And what about the Ban Ard mages from the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, who had converged on the area because of his fall?
Though the dragon's scales were incredibly durable, Allen's true body was far weaker—his elemental affinity had improved greatly,
but it was still nowhere near the hardness of dragon scales.
His real body was the Achilles' heel of the black dragon.
Allen thought for a moment, then made the dragon suddenly flap its wings, preparing to soar into the sky.
It was his first time using Beast Roar: Forbidden Sky, and he didn't yet know how long its grounding effect would last. But one thing was clear—a creature with wings that couldn't fly shouldn't stay and fight on the ground.
Unfortunately, the instant he tried to take flight, his intent was seen through.
"Hmph!"
A cold snort echoed in his mind.
Allen immediately sensed danger.
He flapped the wings harder, increasing the force—but in the next instant—
"Buzz!"
The wolf medallion at his chest vibrated violently.
Renakins spurred his skeletal steed forward, raising a longsword glowing with pale-blue runes, and commanded the Wild Hunt to charge!
At the same time, as if rehearsed countless times, dozens of glowing white ropes shot out from the army's formation, aimed straight for the dragon's wings and body.
The ground beneath the dragon suddenly began to quake and bulge.
Through the dragon's heightened senses, Allen's mind moved instantly—he raised one claw toward the sky.
Bang!
A blinding flash exploded above his head—
Magic Flash!
For a moment, under the dark sun, the dim ruins of New Ban Ard were lit up as though a blazing noonday sun had detonated overhead.
The white-hot light illuminated even the clouds in the sky.
"Ahhh—!"
Screams erupted from all around, but not from the Wild Hunt ahead.
Allen's heart sank.
Those screams came from the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization's spying mages—not the Wild Hunt.
Could the Warlord Armor still block a Flash spell?
But Allen was no longer the greenhorn witcher who had left Kaer Morhen at the start of the year.
With a single thought, the black dragon roared, baring its fanged jaws— and in a burst of lightning and fire, it unleashed a massive, fan-shaped dragon's breath upward from below!
The dark green, thick vines had just burst through the shattered stone slabs when they were burned into ash, the ground beneath them melting into a deep pit.
Nearly ten of the glowing ropes that had shot toward the dragon's breath shattered into white light particles. Three were avoided by the black dragon through the recoil of its breath, but one stuck firmly to the dragon's right claw.
The black dragon exerted a little force and snapped it apart.
Immediately after, it stirred the wind elements around it, flapped its wings, and soared toward the sky.
But in the next instant—
A silver-white flash of a blade shot out, slicing the fading dragon's breath in two before striking straight at the dragon's wing.
Allen was forced to abandon his original plan. He raised one front claw to block.
A sharp pain shot through his limb. Near the joint, the black scales split open slightly, and thick, oil-like dragon blood oozed from the wound.
The injury was light—by the black dragon's standards, it was like a human accidentally cutting their finger while chopping vegetables, not even deep enough to need a bandage.
However, the fact that Sunny and the Ban Ard warlocks had failed to damage the dragon's scales even after detonating dozens of instantaneous trigger gems, while the Wild Hunt managed to pierce them on their first strike, made Allen's heart tighten.
If the Wild Hunt's attacks could pierce the black dragon's defense, it meant that given enough time, they could wear the dragon down and kill it.
This can't continue!
As his thoughts turned, the black dragon's crimson pupils suddenly contracted into thin slits. It no longer struggled to climb higher—instead, its wings flared wide, and it charged directly toward the oncoming Wild Hunt.
At the same time— A crimson light welled up in its throat as it opened its monstrous jaws toward the Hunt.
The moment the dragon changed its attack pattern, Renakins raised his hand and made a gesture.
Including the navigator beside him, nearly one-third of the Wild Hunt simultaneously raised their weapons—staves, longswords, or flails.
A golden magic barrier immediately enveloped all of them.
From the dragon's buildup of breath, to Renakins's hand signal, to the raising of the barrier—this entire chain of reaction, command, and execution was completed within a single second.
Even the term well-trained could not fully describe the discipline and coordination of the Wild Hunt's army.
No wonder Ortolan and Sunny, after two battles—one even fought within Ban Ard's own stronghold—had failed to inflict any losses on them… Allen thought grimly. A wall of defense formed by hundreds moving as one—more troublesome than any turtle shell.
Just as the Wild Hunt raised their barrier, the white-hot dragon's breath burst from the black dragon's mouth.
But it didn't strike the golden barrier.
The dragon's neck twisted sharply downward, its head lowering as its massive black wings swept out.
Boom—!
The collapsed bell tower exploded, the searing flames surging forth. The great bronze bell melted into liquid metal, flowing down into the Dwarven Vivaldi Bank.
The structures near the bank's main gate, crushed by the falling tower, were instantly filled with tangible fire—overflowing, bursting outward in a violent explosion!
The black dragon, propelled by the intense recoil and the roaring wind element it had summoned, was flung upward into the sky.
Dragons, such mighty creatures, had left their footprints across many worlds.
The Wild Hunt, conquerors of realms, had seen dragons before—and dragon's breath too—but this was the first time they had seen one use its breath not for destruction, but for flight.
They had never imagined a dragon could even think of using the power of its own breath to ascend like that.
Clop, clop, clop…
The gaunt skeletal horses of the Hunt slowed to a halt.
Scarlet and ashen-blue flames flickered within their skulls as they watched the black dragon, under the black sun, soaring skyward—its immense wings spreading wide, blotting out the heavens.
The Wild Hunt, bound by the mysterious power that restricted their flight, could do nothing against a dragon in the sky.
They had never expected to encounter a dragon in this magic-starved world—and Renakins's squad, burdened by the flight seal, carried no equipment specialized for slaying dragons.
Yet they did not think of retreating.
Though they could do nothing to the dragon above— and even if their magic struck true, it would be useless—the Wild Hunt did not flee.
A dragon that ruled the skies could always fly away.
But the Wild Hunt would not cower.
For even with the dragon's powerful breath, it was impossible for it to break their defense.
If that thief disguised as a Red Rider lost his reason and stubbornly attacked, it would only give them an opportunity.
[Run, cowardly and despicable thief!]
Renakins's cold, terrifying mental voice echoed above Ban Ard.
[While you still have the chance—run as far as you can!]
[Fear and panic will accompany you, day and night, for you are now prey of the Wild Hunt!]
[We will find you! Catch you! Strip away your disguise and flesh! Dig out your beating heart! And from your pale brain, trace every one of your blood-bound kin!]
[So you may know—the wrath of the Alder Folk shall burn through the worlds of heaven and earth, until rivers of blood flow!]
Under the black sun, the black dragon flapped its wings slowly and heavily.
The witcher, his expression blank, gripped the cold, jagged thorns tightly as he took in every word of the Wild Hunt's so-called warning—more curse than threat—echoing in his mind.
He lowered his head, gazing down at the Alder Folk staring up from the ground. The pale-blue and crimson flames within their skulls intertwined across the empty space.
"Who said I was going to run?"
The witcher curled his lips in disdain, sending out a calm, emotionless mental wave in reply.
"As for 'thief'…"
"Then remember this, Renakins—today, you, and every last Aen Elle behind you, will die at the hands of the thief you just spoke of!"
As those words fell—
Renakins, on the ground below, suddenly yanked at his reins, freezing in place. The scarlet flames in his eye sockets flickered with startled sparks.
The same astonishment flashed through the hollow sockets of the other members of the Wild Hunt; they turned to one another in disbelief.
"Who are you?!"
Regaining his senses, Renakins let out a terrifying roar: "How do you know my name?"
"Where did you learn of the Aen Elle?!"
The black dragon remained silent, and the witcher upon its back gazed down wordlessly.
Then—
Out of habit, he opened his Witcher Journal, and with a thought—
Monster Hunt!
..........
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