ALL NOVEL 81. Who is Allen?
After the ritual was completed, the witcher masters left one by one. Vesemir, Letho, the sorceress, and the former witcher apprentices stayed behind. They needed to help Allen transport the bodies of the Old Speartip and the drowner king back to Kaer Morhen.
"Snap!"
A snap of the fingers. A wind arose on Killer Lake, causing ripples on the calm surface. Golden sunlight slanted onto the lake, shimmering with light.
With a favorable wind, a small boat with a white sail carried Allen and the others, soon reaching the Old Speartip's cave.
"Ah!"
As soon as the boat docked, Fred, sitting at the bow, couldn't help but exclaim. The sunlight of winter was blocked by the towering mountain walls, making the dark cave appear eerie and terrifying in the shadows.
In the shadow, two massive mounds of flesh were embedded together, with hardly any intact skin, making it hard to discern where one ended and the other began. Looking around, there was blood everywhere and bits of flesh smeared across the ground. It looked like the scene of a cult ritual.
Perhaps because the drowner king and the Old Speartip were large monsters, even in the low temperatures, the blood on the ground had not yet coagulated.
"Splat~"
Letho stepped off the boat, his foot landing in a pool of blood. The sticky, bright red blood splashed onto his boots, but he paid no mind. The scene before him was so shocking that it demanded his full attention.
"My God! It's unimaginable how fierce the battle must have been to create such a sight," Letho exclaimed, mouth agape.
What was even harder to imagine was how Allen, the weakest party, not only survived such an intense fight but also managed to kill these two powerful monsters.
Just looking at the heads Allen had brought back to the lake, one couldn't feel the oppressive might and size difference. Although a bit embarrassing, the scene before him, combined with the faint pressure from the two mounds of flesh, made his thighs slightly weak. And he had been a witcher for over thirty years.
To emit such a strong aura even in death, how powerful must they have been alive?
Inconceivable!
Truly inconceivable!
Letho turned around, looking at Allen with a face full of disbelief, and couldn't help but ask: "Allen, weren't you scared?"
The shock in the hearts of the others was not much different.
Vesemir stared at the crimson mound of flesh, feeling a mix of emotions. Although called a witcher master, he had received very few large monster hunting commissions in recent years. Not to mention two large monsters together.
Hughes, Bond, and Fred looked at Allen with even more admiration in their eyes.
Only the sorceress reacted differently, though she remained on the boat and didn't step ashore, after glancing around, a hint of concern appeared on her face. Hearing Letho's question, Allen just smiled, shook his head, and said nothing. Of course, he was a bit afraid, but everything was within his plan.
Contrary to their imagination, the drowner king was a summoned ally.
Its appearance and location were decided by him, so what was there to be afraid of?
Besides, if he didn't take a risk now, would he wait for the defense of Kaer Morhen to fight?
Thinking of the future battle, the sense of urgency that had eased after the trial once again pressed on his heart. Allen couldn't wait to return and use the spoils from the drowner king and the Old Speartip to enhance his strength further.
He shook his head and looked at Vesemir, saying: "Master Vesemir, let's process the materials from these two monsters and head back to the castle."
Transporting the bodies of the drowner king and the Old Speartip back directly was impractical. Given the distance, it was best to process them on-site and take only the important parts. Seeing that Allen didn't want to talk about his feelings at that time, and glancing at the brutal scene before him, Vesemir thought Allen had been traumatized by the fight. So, he patted Allen on the shoulder and walked towards the two mounds of flesh.
Just then, the sorceress spoke up.
"No need, let me handle it."
Before her words finished, Allen and the others didn't have time to turn around.
"Snap!"
A snap of the fingers, and the medallions vibrated violently. The two mounds of flesh in the pool of blood trembled and slowly sank. It looked as if they were being swallowed by a swamp.
On closer inspection, a dark red light glowed faintly beneath the bodies of the drowner king and the Old Speartip. In no time, the bodies, which even gave the witcher masters a headache, disappeared before everyone's eyes. The cave entrance of the Old Speartip suddenly quieted down.
A moment later, the empty space echoed with a cold female voice.
"Allen!"
"Compared to swords and knives, doesn't magic seem more useful?"
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Kaer Morhen Castle.
"Chief! Chief!"
Not long after the witcher masters returned to Kaer Morhen, a drunken witcher staggered over.
"What's the matter?" the chief asked.
The witcher caught his breath and said, "We were drinking, and suddenly a mound of flesh appeared in the main hall."
The chief frowned and quickened his pace.
"Squeak~"
As the main hall doors opened, a peculiar fragrance mixed with the scent of blood hit them. Sniffing the familiar scent, the chief's steps halted briefly. He sighed in relief, shook his head helplessly, and walked into the hall.
A mound of flesh stood in the center, next to the bonfire and the long table where the witchers drank. At this moment, the witchers, who should have been drinking, were lying on the ground in various awkward positions, as if greatly frightened.
No wonder, who wouldn't be startled when a massive, bloody, and mangled corpse suddenly appeared before them while they were drinking and singing?
Especially when this mound of flesh emitted a faint aura of terror, and the alcohol heightened the witchers' senses. It was as terrifying as encountering a foglet around the corner.
"Ch-... Chief..."
The drunken, frightened witchers, seeing the chief leading a group of witcher masters inside, gathered around.
The chief raised his hand, and the drunken witchers immediately quieted down.
"No need to worry, it's just a joke by Lady Vera."
"A joke?" The drunken witchers turned to look at the mound of flesh, mumbling something just as a few still-sober companions covered their mouths and dragged them away.
The old witcher with gray hair looked at the mound of flesh in surprise and asked uncertainly: "I remember Lady Vera left with Vesemir and the others, so..."
The chief nodded, "Yes, this should be the Old Speartip and Drowner King that Allen hunted."
The surrounding witchers were stunned, and the main hall fell silent. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the firewood.
"The Allen the chief mentioned, is he the one I know?" This from a witcher who had drunk with Allen.
"Where did this Drowner King come from?" This from a witcher who had seen the drowner king.
"Al-... Allen, who is he?" This from a witcher who got drunk as soon as he returned to Kaer Morhen.
.....
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82. How to Handle the Corpses?
83. The Cold and Ruthless Leader.
84. Is Allen Going to Get the Axe?
85. You're Not Even as Good as Letho!
86. Beyond Your Imagination.