Chapter 184 – Allen Wants to Make All of Europa Cry Out "Dame!"
A young mage's corpse, grotesquely mangled in death, was laid out in the center of the grand hall.
The senior mages of Kamar-Taj, appearing in their astral forms, gathered silently around the body to examine it.
"There's still traces of dark energy lingering in Griffin's body… Could the killer be a fallen mage!?"
One of the senior mages drew out a wisp of black mist with a finger, his tone grave. "The dark aura is highly concentrated. I'm more inclined to believe it was a creature from the Dark Realm."
"Griffin was already an elite-level mage. No ordinary creature could've taken him down. I'm convinced it was someone at the level of a Demon God's Chosen."
"Could it be that the multidimensional darkness can no longer remain idle and is about to strike at the human world again?"
"If they dared make a move on Kamar-Taj, other factions must also be under threat."
The senior mages debated back and forth.
In truth, Kamar-Taj had lost contact with the Sorcerer Supreme, Agamotto, for quite some time. Before leaving, however, he had made arrangements for a successor and other matters.
They were merely carrying out his final orders.
Kamar-Taj could not be left without a Sorcerer Supreme for long—there had to be someone in charge of the greater situation.
However, after testing all the current mages one by one, they concluded that their growth potential was far below expectations. They feared the legacy of the Sorcerer Supreme would decline with each passing generation.
At that moment, the mages fell silent to hear the latest report.
Naturally, it concerned Allen.
In their eyes, no matter how chaotic the mortal world became, it was insignificant compared to Allen's progress.
After all, Agamotto hadn't shown monstrous talent before becoming Sorcerer Supreme either.
"What is this kid thinking, wasting the heavens' gift for nothing."
"In just one month, he's dabbled in a bunch of completely useless spells."
"He's most enthusiastic when it's time to eat, and always uses 'cultivating immortality' as an excuse to skip training. I really want to beat him up."
"…"
Their frustration was palpable—he was the epitome of wasted potential.
With even a bit of effort, Allen could've been solidly nominated as the Sorcerer Supreme candidate. Instead, he spent his days riding Agatha around to the dining hall.
"I have a suggestion."
A long-bearded mage whose whiskers draped to his waist spoke calmly, "Let's use the pursuit of Griffin's killer as a pretext and send Allen to the Europa continent for some real-world training."
Someone immediately voiced concern. "Isn't that too dangerous? Allen hasn't learned any combat spells. A natural-born mage like him only appears once in ten thousand years. If anything happens to him, we'll regret it forever."
"I think it's feasible," another senior mage said. "We're currently constructing a Sanctum in Europa. It can serve as a response base. Also, we can secretly project our astral forms and follow along. If anything unexpected happens, we'll be there in an instant."
"Exactly. Allen's been cooped up in Kamar-Taj all this time. Without a sense of crisis, it'll be hard for him to grow into a qualified Sorcerer Supreme."
"Then let's vote. All in favor, raise your hands."
The majority voted in favor. Allen had no choice but to begin his journey to Europa.
"How dare such a rat murder a dignified elder of my immortal sect!"
Allen, righteously furious, pledged to the attending mages, "As a holy son of the Immortal Sect, I shall personally drive the Silence Staff through the soul of the murderer!"
"Allen, don't get so worked up. You're only in charge of investigating. If you do run into the killer, remember to crush the signal stone. We'll arrive immediately. Your safety is the top priority," a senior mage advised solemnly.
"Elder, rest assured. I won't let Elder Brofen die in vain," Allen said firmly.
"It's Griffin… not Brofen… Mage Griffin," the mage corrected with a sigh.
Allen repeated, "I won't let Mage Brofen die in vain."
…Forget it. Call him whatever you want.
He's dead anyway—it's not like a corpse can file a complaint.
"You may bring two companions," the mage reminded him.
"Is that even a question?"
Allen declared without hesitation, "I'll bring my mount and Sister Yao. What kind of holy son goes on a trip without a steed and an attendant? It wouldn't just be my reputation at stake—it'd be Kamar-Taj's honor! I don't mind sacrificing a little comfort, but our sect must not be humiliated."
"…"
Do you have no shame at all? You're really planning to ride that poor girl?
You've already embarrassed Kamar-Taj more than enough.
Agatha was practicing archery when she suddenly felt weight on her back—Allen had jumped on again. She groaned, "Quit messing around, I'm training."
"No time to explain. Headquarters has a mission. We need to make a trip to Europa."
Then, Allen shouted toward Gu Yi, "Sister Yao, let's go see some blue-eyed blond devils. Witch Knight Allen shall reclaim the glory of the Ming Dynasty and make the perverts of Europa cry out 'Dame!' across the land!"
Gu Yi hesitated. "I'd rather stay and continue my training in Kamar-Taj."
"What more training do you need? You've already locked in the position of Sorcerer Supreme! Can you stop being so intense and give the rest of us a chance to breathe?"
"…"
Dragged along by Allen, the two women reluctantly followed him to the volatile continent of Europa.
…
Temeria, one of the many scattered kingdoms on the Europa continent.
Europa had always been a fragmented mess—any powerful guy could mark a circle on a map and proclaim it a new country. This made tales of exiled princes and princesses making comebacks a popular genre.
You might be sipping malt juice at a tavern, and that grimy, sweaty woman at the next table might once have been a princess. Her town-sized kingdom was probably wiped out by a neighboring village, and now she drinks to mourn her lost life of silk and gold.
The Kingdom of Temeria, with a population over ten thousand, was mid-sized among the numerous states. Its greatest pride was a luxurious and powerful Royal Guard of 500 elite soldiers.
They weren't just capable of quelling uprisings—they also served as a strong deterrent to neighboring states.
More importantly, King Foltest of Temeria had chosen to align with the Brotherhood of Sorcerers.
The Brotherhood was a long-established power in Europa. By supporting royal families in various nations, they expanded their influence and continuously scouted magically gifted youths to enroll in their magic academies, ensuring a steady influx of new blood.
At this moment, King Foltest was wolfing down a lavish meal, but his face was filled with anxiety.
Recently, rumors of werewolves had spread across his lands, with several subjects already falling victim, plunging the realm into fear and panic.
Not that the king particularly cared about the deaths of commoners—but the issue was that not long ago, a Witcher passed through Temeria. The locals had pooled together 3,000 gold coins to hire him to hunt the werewolf.
The Witcher took the money and vanished without a trace. Most likely, he ran off with it.
Outraged, the people were demanding that the king deploy the Royal Guard to wipe out the werewolves.
But Foltest was unwilling to risk his precious elite force. Still, he feared a peasant uprising fueled by anger, which could topple his reign—especially considering he had seized the throne through such means himself.
Requesting help from the Brotherhood's court mage? Even less realistic.
Everyone knew the mages wouldn't lift a finger unless the bribe was already in hand—and even then, no guarantees.
The Brotherhood didn't care who sat on the throne. They only cared whether their existing privileges were preserved.
"Your Majesty, another Witcher has arrived in town!"