The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

Source?

Skill?

How do these two words even go together?

Allen frowned.

And needing just one experience orb to unlock it felt suspicious.

Not because it was too expensive, but because it was too cheap.

Alchemy alone required a hundred experience orbs, and even after reducing the cost through further study, it still only saved about thirty.

Considering the name of this skill—Source—even if he had studied it for a full two years in his memory, it still felt too little, far below the value such a term implied.

Still, a single experience orb wasn't much to lose.

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[Ding! Would you like to spend 1 experience orb to unlock the skill: Source (LV1)?]

When the experience orb was consumed, a faint green thread suddenly appeared in Allen's mind.

It resembled the connections he had with his Mirage Pearl, Wolf Medallion, and the Royal Griffin insignia, but this one felt calm and devoid of any emotional resonance.

"What is this?" The thought had barely formed when his consciousness instinctively reached out to the green thread.

In an instant—

A sound like rushing water echoed faintly in his ears.

A blinding green light flashed before his eyes. His body felt light, then cold, then warm again. Before he could make out what the green light was, it vanished.

The sigil hanging from the ceiling swayed gently in the breeze. Allen was back in the infirmary.

No.

He wasn't even sure if he had actually left, not even in consciousness.

"What... what was that?" Closing his eyes, he scanned the corner of his mind, his expression full of doubt.

The green thread that had been there moments ago was gone, as though it had never existed.

"But there's definitely been a change!"

He quickly opened his Witcher's Journal.

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[Name: Allen]

[Age: 14]

[Title: The Miracle Child]

[Level: 62]

[Health: 100%, Stamina: 640/640, Mana: 780/780]

[Attributes: Strength 70, Agility 61, Constitution 63, Perception 83, Mysticism 79]

[Affinity: Water 13 (Source: Water 3%) (-3), Earth 13 (Source: Earth 3%), Air 10 (Source: Air 0%), Fire 8 (+1), Space 2]

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None of the other attributes or affinities had changed, except for his elemental affinities. Water affinity had dropped by three points, while Fire had increased by one.

"Huh?"

"What kind of ridiculous skill is this?"

He willed his attention to the skill panel, scrolling down.

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[Skill Name: Source]

[Type: Hybrid Magic]

[Level: LV1]

[Passive Effect: Equilibrium – Automatically triggers with each level-up.]

[Notes: Great endeavors often risk failure. Some persevere; others are forced to abandon the path.]

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"Equilibrium..."

Murmuring under his breath, Allen's gaze drifted back to his affinities. Slowly, he began to grasp the idea.

Of course.

It wasn't that his Water affinity had decreased or his Fire affinity had increased. Rather, the highest affinity had diminished and distributed its excess to the lowest.

But what's the point of that?

Didn't this still result in a net loss of affinity?

Allen stared blankly at the semi-transparent panel in front of him, utterly confused as to why he had studied for two full years—at least in his inherited memories—only to end up with a skill like this.

And how did it relate to the term Source?

Thoughts churned like a storm in his mind as fragments of the past two years flashed before his eyes.

Master Hen Gedymdeith had never once mentioned this skill in class—not directly. Some students had asked him about his experience as a Source wielder, but his answers were always vague, offering nothing beyond what Allen already knew.

But if the Witcher's Journal extracted this as a skill, it must have been something Gedymdeith had carefully prepared for his apprentices.

It couldn't be for the purpose of weakening their potential, could it?

After all, ordinary sorcerer apprentices also had elemental affinities. They just referred to them as "casting aptitudes."

Yes.

Elemental affinity was the core talent of any mage or sorcerer. Unlike Allen, who could enhance his affinity with decoctions and purifying elixirs, others couldn't improve theirs easily. It was a near-immutable trait.

Most apprentices, after honing their skills with low-level water spells, would specialize based on their strongest element or elements.

Most sorcerers, after completing their apprenticeship, would dedicate themselves to a single dominant element.

Only the most gifted of their kind could hope to master multiple elements.

And those were rare indeed.

Redistributing the strongest affinity to bolster the weakest? That was practically sabotaging an apprentice's future, forcing them into mediocrity.

Did Gedymdeith have some grudge against the Academy of Ban Ard and its students?

Allen shook his head.

He remembered it clearly—Master Gedymdeith had looked at his students with nothing but kindness.

If his goal was to ruin them, there would have been no need for deception. So, Gedymdeith must have believed this was the best path forward. Or at least, the path to something greater.

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"Source..."

"Source..."

"Source..."

Allen muttered under his breath, his pupils suddenly narrowing.

"Could it be that Gedymdeith wanted to artificially create Sources, guiding his students toward that path?!"

His gaze returned to the skill's notes:

[Notes: Great endeavors often risk failure. Some persevere; others are forced to abandon the path.]

What kind of endeavor would the Witcher's Journal deem "great"? Artificial Sources seemed to fit the bill.

The more Allen thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

"Even Tomas Moreau managed to develop advanced forms of secondary evolution. How could Gedymdeith, with his centuries of experience, have accomplished nothing? He was a Source himself. Researching Sources would have been a perfect fit!"

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The first skill from "the sorcerer's memory" was already shaping up to be monumental. Allen couldn't help but feel a little exhilarated.

Even though his Journal now displayed Source percentages for his affinities, whether maxing them out would actually turn him into a Source remained uncertain. It was all just speculation for now.

At the moment, his spellcasting talent was mediocre at best.

Most apprentices could sense elemental energies naturally, but Allen hadn't been able to until his affinity reached ten points.

This showed he was the least gifted kind of apprentice in terms of magical aptitude.

And yet, the path before him might just lead to becoming a Source—a path evaluated as "great" by the Witcher's Journal, no less.

---------------------------------

"Still, this isn't enough..."

Taking a deep breath, Allen suppressed the urge to immediately spend more experience orbs on upgrades.

The three-to-one exchange ratio felt like too great a loss. He had an inkling that becoming a Source wouldn't be as simple as leveling up a skill.

After all, the previous owner of these memories had died like a common mage, without showing any sign of a Source's dominance.

He needed more information. And his sources...

"Something this monumental—Vera might know something. Tomas Moreau and Makarov down in Kaer Morhen's dungeons might also have clues." Allen thought. "But the most likely source is..."

[Ding! Would you like to use Sorcerer's Memory ×1? ]

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"Your complexion looks terrible. Are your injuries acting up again?" The young priestess fluffed up the pillow and helped Allen sit more comfortably. "Or… were you having nightmares again?"

It could definitely count as a nightmare, Allen thought to himself.

Not even during his final year of academy studies had he ever worked this hard.

The memories of the sorcerers weren't bloody, gruesome, or revolting—at least, not so far—but they were downright exhausting.

Each session seemed to stretch into two or three years of relentless study, with no time for rest or any form of entertainment.

The first session, where Hen Gedymdeith taught, had at least been engaging and interesting. But some lessons were more akin to two or three years of non-stop mathematics classes, without a break, not even for sleep. Allen, despite being a hardened witcher, had nearly lost his composure.

Because of that, and the "Source" lesson earlier, Allen had only dared to use three "Sorcerer's Memories" today.

The remaining two lessons were as follows:

One was Blind Dust.

[Name]: Blind Dust

[Type]: Beginner-level earth element spell

[Level]: LV1

[Active Effect]: You can summon a burst of magical dust to blind a target, rendering them unable to see until the spell's duration ends.

It was quite a useful spell.

Although it wasn't high-level, its casting time was short—almost on par with a witcher's signs.

For ambushes, blinding a foe and attacking afterward was a strategy that could enrich a witcher's arsenal.

As soon as Allen unlocked it, he spent two experience points to learn it.

The other was Astronomy, a massive body of knowledge comparable to alchemy or ritual studies.

It covered prophecy, ritual assistance, and the tracking of individuals…

Its applications were broad, but Allen had not learned it because it required thirty experience points.

That cost, while lower than what alchemy or ritual studies had required in the past, was still significant.

Moreover, many of its functions overlapped with other skills and rituals Allen had already learned. Considering his immediate needs, it didn't seem essential, so he decided to pass on it for now.

Fortunately, once a line of knowledge was unlocked, it remained accessible. Allen could revisit it anytime in the future by consulting related books or finding a teacher to explain it. There was no risk of losing access permanently.

"I'm fine."

Allen shook his head and sipped the warm broth that Lysa handed him. He watched the tomatoes bobbing in the reddish liquid and let out a contented sigh.

"Your dream spell works wonders. I slept like a log. I was just… uh… thinking about something…"

Before he could finish, Lysa suddenly reached out her hand toward him.

Allen froze for a moment but didn't move.

A soothing eucalyptus scent surrounded him as her cool fingers touched his forehead.

"You're younger than me, so what could you possibly have to think about every day?"

The young priestess sighed softly. She pressed her thumb gently against his brow, as if trying to smooth out the creases. "Frowning all the time will chase all your happiness away, you know?"

Seeing Allen's doubtful expression, she added, "That's what Mother Ianna told me."

"Oh."

Allen nodded, still a little surprised by her gesture, the fresh scent lingering at his nose.

He was taken aback by her unexpected boldness.

Just then, noises of laughter and chatter echoed from outside the house.

In an instant, the young priestess withdrew her hand as if burned, hurriedly walking to the table and lowering her head as if nothing had happened.

She busied herself pulling plates from the basket, only to realize the plate was empty. In a fluster, she shoved it back in.

Watching her antics, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Allen's lips.

"Those ghouls were really slippery today—kept running away whenever we got close. Almost didn't catch a single one…"

"Hah, I took down three!"

"Yeah, just lucky!"

"Luck is a skill too, you know!"

It sounded like Vesemir and the others had returned. The lively commotion outside lightened Allen's mood considerably.

"Quiet down! Allen might still be resting. Do you all want extra drills again?" Vesemir scolded, his tone stern but quiet. The voices outside fell silent at once.

"Creak—"

The wooden door swung open.

Vesemir stepped in and, seeing Allen awake, his eyes lit up. In a few quick strides, he reached Allen's bedside.

"You're awake, Allen. How are you feeling today?"

"Not bad." Allen smiled. "Give me three more days, and I'll join you for a hunt…"

"Absolutely not!" Lysa interrupted, her voice unusually firm as she huffed indignantly. "Mother Ianna said you need at least seven full days of rest!"

"Hey, don't glare at me. I didn't suggest he get out of bed," Vesemir said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"But I think—"

"Your 'thinking' isn't allowed either!" Lysa stood her ground, hands on her hips, radiating authority.

"Don't worry," Vesemir reassured Allen with a gentle pat on the shoulder. "It's just some necrophages. We've got it covered."

"Yeah, boss, you just focus on recovering," Erni chimed in. "We've dealt with ghouls plenty of times. We've got this!"

"Exactly!" The other witchers nodded, eagerly sharing their kills of the day.

Allen chuckled wryly.

This was exactly what he was worried about.

If Vesemir and the younger witchers cleared out all the ghouls, where would that leave his coin pouch?

The Astronomy knowledge he'd unlocked wasn't immediately necessary, but there were thirty-six memory crystals in total from the long-lived sorcerer.

Surely they weren't all going to be niche or trivial like "Source," "Blind Dust," or something as costly and unneeded as "Astronomy."

If they were, his luck would be truly abysmal.

With so many memories and crystals, Allen estimated he'd need at least three hundred experience points to unlock everything of value.

And that wasn't even counting skill upgrades or furthering his Beast Roar abilities—he needed to push toward Beast Roar: Scent Suppression as soon as possible.

Otherwise, when the Wild Hunt came flying on their steeds…

Could he count on sniping them like last night? Or rely solely on his griffin in aerial combat?

Sure, the Wild Hunt seemed focused on Ban Ard for now, but who could predict the twists of fate?

In all likelihood, he needed at least three hundred more experience points.

"Still broke," Allen muttered inwardly. "Damn shame those two bottles of Verdant Sigh shattered. And Lady Vera isn't here, either…"

He bowed his head in thought, then lifted his gaze past the young priestess and looked to the old witcher.

"Vesemir, do you still have any Swallow potions—"

"No!" Lysa cut him off sharply, her wide eyes glinting with determination as she stepped between them. "Mother Ianna said all potions are poisonous—especially the ones you witchers use!"

"Witchers have strong metabolisms; we can handle—"

"It's still poison!" Lysa's voice grew shrill, her expression unusually resolute.

The room fell silent.

Even the younger witchers, who had been whispering amongst themselves, now stood still, cowed by her sudden outburst.

"Vesemir can handle the necrophages. The old duke isn't rushing you, either. If not for Mother Ianna intervening, he would've visited you this afternoon…"

"Allen, you almost died from that injury—your blood soaked the entire infirmary red. Can't you just rest for seven days?"

Her tone softened, her eyes pleading as they met Allen's. "You're only fourteen, Allen…"

"What are you in such a hurry for?"

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)

382. The Blue Death.

383. The Guiding Stone of Ard Gaeth's Gate.

384. Hen Gedymdeith is Dead.

385. Allen's Influence.

386. The Gambler's Table of Fate.