438. Strange Changes from Ban Ard.

Nenneke immediately stopped in her tracks.

"Allen?" Vesemir called softly.

Allen seemed to have just woken from deep slumber. His sleepy gaze followed the slow, swaying motion of the emerald sphere, but his bright blue cat-like pupils kept dilating and contracting, never actually focusing on either Vesemir or Nenneke.

The Primal Magic pulsed, flickering like breath, its rhythm sending faint ripples through the cabin.

The wooden amulets hanging from the ceiling swayed without wind.

Feeling this pressure—so unlike an Dark God's aura but more akin to the latent might of a slumbering dragon—Vesemir and Nenneke exchanged uncertain glances.

To be honest, they still had no idea what Allen had done.

A sudden eruption of Dark God-like divine pressure, the Primal Magic that resembled a Source's power, and the arcane blessing that only monsters should have—

Everything that had just happened completely shattered their previous understanding of the world.

Vesemir, upon seeing Allen's scribbled message, seemed to accept things rather easily.

But Nenneke? She was utterly lost.

She couldn't help but wonder—

Was the witcher floating in that emerald magic… really still Allen?

The candlelight flickered, casting long and short shadows along the walls.

The silence stretched inside the small cabin.

"Allen?" Vesemir stiffened and tried calling out again.

In an instant—

Allen's blue cat-like pupils contracted to razor-thin slits.

A barely-there pressure suddenly turned razor-sharp, like winter's cutting wind, instantly biting into their skin.

"Clang— Clang— Clang—"

The wooden amulets clattered against each other in fright.

"Vesemir!" Nenneke shouted in horror. "That's not—"

Before she could finish—

The terrifying aura vanished as if it had never been there.

Nenneke saw Allen's eyelids tremble as his dazed eyes finally focused on them.

A flash of surprise crossed his face.

"Ve… Vesemir? Nenneke? Why are you here… Ah—"

The emerald magic that had been supporting him instantly dissipated the moment he came to his senses.

With nothing beneath him, he let out a startled cry.

But like a wildcat, he instinctively twisted in midair and landed gracefully on the ground.

Even after landing, he still looked completely lost, staring at Vesemir in confusion.

For a long moment, Vesemir just stared back at him.

"You don't remember what just happened?" Nenneke clutched her skirt tightly, unable to hold back her question.

"What happened?" Allen asked in genuine bewilderment—but then his expression rapidly shifted.

Surprise. Confusion. Sudden realization. Thoughtfulness. Doubt.

Finally, as if he had only just noticed others were present, he looked up from his thoughts and said: "I had a sudden spark of inspiration and was in the middle of an alchemy experiment…"

"Here?" Nenneke glanced around the utterly unremarkable wooden cabin, where there wasn't even a single cauldron. "An alchemy experiment?"

Allen nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But when he noticed the strange expressions on both their faces, he swallowed whatever excuse he had prepared and instead hesitantly asked Vesemir: "Was the disturbance… big?"

"Very big." Vesemir nodded firmly—but then shook his head.

"Uh… also not that big…"

What Does That Mean…?

Allen was completely dumbfounded.

But before he could ask, Vesemir—perhaps realizing how vague his words had been—quickly explained: "Just now, we felt the divine pressure of a Dark God. It was incredibly strong, almost like that day in the valley… even the dust storm it kicked up wasn't small."

"But thinking back now, the influence of that divine pressure seemed to be limited only to the area around this cabin."

"Even the dust didn't reach the small path outside the cabin's entrance."

That's a relief… Allen thought, but when he turned around, he saw Nenneke staring at him with wide eyes, and his heart skipped a beat.

The pressure of an Dark God had actually manifested—there was no way Nenneke would just let this slide…

"Sit down first," Allen quickly changed the subject. "By the way, what brought you two here?"

Nenneke gave him a long, deep look—but surprisingly, she didn't press further about the divine pressure.

The three of them sat down around the wooden table inside the cabin.

"There's trouble in Ban Ard again," she said. "This morning, just after you left, Duke Mason sent people to inform us that Ban Ard's request has changed again."

"They claim that their scouts have detected another impending attack from the Wild Hunt. If the kings don't respond to them soon, the Brotherhood of Sorcerers won't be able to handle the threat alone… and will evacuate Ban Ard."

"Isn't that the exact same threat as before?" Vesemir asked, confused.

"No, it's different," Nenneke shook her head. "Somehow, Sunny has managed to contact the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative. Grandmaster Ortolan has stated that he is willing to provide temporary refuge for the Brotherhood of Sorcerers."

Vesemir fell silent.

Previously, the northern kings had been able to pressure Sunny because Ban Ard Academy appeared to be welcomed by various factions, but in reality, there was nowhere suitable for the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to relocate to as a whole.

The apprentices didn't care much, but for the sorcerers, Ban Ard had provided the best treatment from the most powerful mage faction in the Northern Continent—something they couldn't be sure they'd receive elsewhere. However, the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative was a different story.

For a long time, the Rissberg Group had been the second-largest mage faction in the Northern Continent, just behind Ban Ard and Aretuza. Now, it might be second only to Aretuza.

For the average sorcerer, relocating to Rissberg was an ideal solution.

Allen's expression grew heavy.

More than a dozen masters, along with fifty or sixty assistants and apprentices, lived in Rissberg, conducting all sorts of magical experiments and research.

Their work included prototype testing, covering everything from combat units, elixirs of immortality, artificially created or genetically modified creatures, and more…

The mage organization that had formed through this alliance was the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative.

In fact, Allen knew even more than that. Because of the protection of Ortolan, one of the five legendary mages of Chapter of the Gift and the Art, Rissberg had come to embody every single prejudice the Northern Continent held against sorcerers.

Kidnapping children, boiling people in cauldrons, dissecting victims…

They ruthlessly used human subjects for experiments—and felt no remorse for it.

They embraced nearly every kind of magic that the Brotherhood of Sorcerers had forbidden, including Goetia—a sorcery that called demons from other planes or worlds.

To be honest, before crossing into this world, Allen had even suspected that the destruction of the Witcher schools might have had Rissberg's involvement.

After all, the Rissberg Group was obsessed with the hybridization and mutation of humans and humanoid creatures—something strictly forbidden.

Of course…

So far, the true culprit behind the destruction of the School of the Wolf had been confirmed to be Henselt the Glutton of Kaedwen.

Even so, Rissberg remained on Allen's list of suspects.

After all, the extermination and persecution of Witchers had been widespread—and it affected all Witcher schools equally. And the Rissberg Group certainly had the means to be involved.

"Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative… and Sunny…?" Allen muttered, rubbing his chin with his right hand, his brows furrowing.

"What are you thinking?" Nenneke asked.

"I just find it strange." Allen shook his head, choosing not to reveal the truth.

The truth about Rissberg's crimes wouldn't come to light for another hundred years.

For now, while their reputation wasn't great, the worst that was said about them was that they were stingy and profit-driven.

In reality, Ortolan's focus on spreading magical knowledge—his belief that supernatural power should be shared with the common people to advance society as a whole—had given Rissberg a good reputation across the Northern Continent.

Even their magical artifacts were widely praised.

If Allen were to criticize them now, no one would believe him—it would only raise suspicion.

Besides, the Rissberg scandal would only surface a century later.

A hundred years was a long time.

It was normal for an organization to become morally corrupt over time. But it wouldn't be fair to judge Rissberg today based on what would happen in a hundred years.

Not only would that be inappropriate, but it could also mislead his thinking, making him form unfounded biases.

"It is strange, indeed," Vesemir nodded. "Absorbing Ban Ard Academy would benefit any faction, but the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative has never been one to openly recruit mages."

"On the contrary, Rissberg Castle is small, and they have extremely strict requirements for bringing in fresh blood. The same goes for their promotion system."

"And as for Ban Ard's standards…" Vesemir shook his head. "The entire Northern Continent knows that the quality of their apprentices has been declining with every passing generation."

"This doesn't make sense."

"So, do you think Sunny is deceiving the kings?" Nenneke pressed.

"Uh…" Vesemir hesitated. "I'm not sure. Maybe the Rissberg Group is changing its strategy? Or maybe Sunny has paid a considerable price?"

"Rissberg isn't exactly a friendly place for Witchers. Whenever we operated near Temeria or Cidaris, we always made sure to steer clear of it."

"So my understanding of the place is quite limited."

"What about you, Allen?" Nenneke turned toward Allen, who had been frowning and lost in thought.

Why is she asking me?

Allen was momentarily stunned. If even Vesemir didn't know much about Rissberg, how was he supposed to?

He cleared his throat. "What do the kings think?"

"They're hesitant," Nenneke sighed. "They don't know if Sunny is just making threats or if he truly intends to leave."

"If he's still negotiating and making demands, then he doesn't actually want to leave Ban Ard," Vesemir analyzed. "I know him. He isn't skilled in alchemy, biological modification, or genetics."

"At Ban Ard, he can use political maneuvering to consolidate power and eliminate rivals. He even managed to replace Hen Gedymdeith as headmaster. But in the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative? He's nothing."

"That's exactly what the Archpriestess believes," Nenneke nodded. "The kings and nobles are even starting to suspect that the Wild Hunt's return is just an excuse."

That part, at least, was likely true… Allen thought to himself.

It was completely normal for Ban Ard to set up protective wards and ritual arrays in the Passolon Forest.

Allen even suspected that Vilgefortz might have used certain methods to locate where the Wild Hunt had buried fragments of Ard Gaeth's Gate.

But since there had been no bad news related to this matter for quite some time, it was probably nothing to worry about.

"So?" Allen asked, "What does Mother Ianna think?"

Nenneke sighed, then stared at him with an odd expression. She didn't speak until the unsettling silence had him on edge. "The Archpriestess asked me to hear your opinion."

She's asking for my opinion… That doesn't mean Ianna doesn't already have her own…

Wait—

Allen suddenly realized something and snapped his gaze toward Nenneke. She gave him a helpless nod. "Your opinion is the temple's opinion."

And the temple's opinion was something that no one—not even kings—could ignore.

"Huh?"

Allen instinctively exchanged glances with Vesemir.

He was just a Witcher from the School of the Wolf—what right did he have to speak on behalf of the largest religious faith in the Northern Continent?

"Mother Ianna… is she serious?"

Nenneke nodded again, just as helplessly. "'Go ask Allen. His stance is the temple's stance. His thoughts are the temple's thoughts.' That was the Archpriestess's exact words."

Are they really treating me like some kind of holy son?

Allen sighed.

The small hut suddenly fell into silence.

After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Is Mother Ianna expecting an answer soon? I might need some time to think this through…"

"No rush," Nenneke stood up from her seat. "Just let us know in the next two days."

"Also…"

She looked at him with gentle eyes. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself. In the end, this has nothing to do with our Melitele temple. Traditionally, we don't interfere in the disputes of other factions."

"Besides, Ban Ard never contributed to the effort of driving out the dark god, so there's no reason for us to do too much for them."

Allen nodded, then stood up alongside Vesemir to see Nenneke to the door.

"Oh, right…"

Nenneke paused at the wooden doorway. "I know everyone has their secrets. As long as they don't harm the temple, I won't pry."

"Don't worry, Lady Nenneke," Allen immediately assured. "I would never do anything that harms the temple—"

"That's not what I meant." Nenneke shook her head slightly.

"I trust you, Allen. The temple might suspect others, but it will never suspect you."

Allen was taken aback.

Nenneke gazed into his eyes and spoke in a soft voice. "But you must remember—some powers may appear strong, but they are merely honey masking the stench of poison."

"And also…"

"You are still young. You have plenty of time. Don't rush. Everything can be taken slowly."

Then, without waiting for his response, she pushed open the door and left, heading east with her usual quick yet steady pace.

"Was that a warning… not to be tempted by the dark god's power?"

Watching Nenneke's lantern light fade into the distance, Allen couldn't help but smile wryly.

But taking things slowly, huh…

He lifted his gaze toward the star-filled night sky and let out a deep sigh.

.....

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