The Divine Hunter

In the snow-covered fortress of Haern Caduch stands a big courtyard and training field, but they were empty and quiet. Arnaghad, in his bear-hide cloak, stood silently like a thinker’s statue. His icy face and chilly eyes had questions in them. Once, there were more than thirty Bears swinging their blades in the training field, but the merry situation only lasted a few decades. Now, there were only five Bears left in this castle. Aside from him, everyone else was outside, adventuring. Most of the Bears left this castle in spring years ago and never came back.

Arnaghad lost badly. The oath he made during the founding of this school now sounded like a joke. He couldn’t understand. He followed the creed and didn’t get tied down by emotions or morals. He took requests as he pleased. So why did his school decline so much?

“Don’t you understand?” a dark voice said from behind.

Arnaghad turned around and saw a cloud of swirling mist. An unfamiliar witcher with greyish-green eyes appeared. He walked with the grace and balance of a cat. Arnaghad and the other witcher saw a familiar sense of forlornness in each other’s eyes. The Cat School and the Bear School similarly broke apart.

“Who are you?” Arnaghad held his blade up, pointing it at the intruder.

Felix didn’t answer. He asked, “Do you still not understand how or why your school fell into ruin?”

Arnaghad mused over it for a moment. He took one step ahead, and he shifted his sword from his left to his right. The point of his sword was trembling, and Arnaghad said, “Because of Ivar’s betrayal. He gathered a group of traitors and ruined the school’s future.” And he injured me badly. That left a deep mark on his back, and even now, it didn’t heal completely.

“You blame someone else for your failures, but have you ever wondered why he betrayed you?”

“Because he refused to be someone’s second-in-command. I knew he was ambitious when I saw his eyes.”

Felix shook his head. “You know about the creed you set for the school. Heartless and cold. In the short term, your members of course feel great. They have enough freedom and personal space, but the severely flawed Trial had sown the seeds of disaster long ago. Your members not only are heartless to strangers, but they feel no camaraderie among themselves either. Their lives revolve around nothing but requests. They do not cheer for their comrades’ triumphs, nor do they mourn for their deaths.”

Felix’s eyes were flaring. Adamantly, he said, “You lack a sense of camaraderie. That is the soul of a team.” He looked at the silver bear head’s medallion hanging from Arnaghad’s neck. “Aside from a cold, useless title, what does the School of the Bear bring for your members? Haern Caduch is nothing but a temporary abode for them. They will not find their true home here.”

Furious, Arnaghad leapt into the air, pointing his blade at Felix, and he swung it down, drawing a silver line through the air.

Felix spun like a top, his blade spinning as well, drawing a silver ring around him. He dispersed most of the impact, and his blade slithered closer to Arnaghad from the momentum, eventually piercing his wrist.

***

Metal clashed. Arnaghad swung his greatsword around and around, winds blowing around him. He stirred up a storm. Like waves in a sea, his attacks crashed and crashed again. Felix was a lone wooden boat in that sea, swaying and sailing at incredible speeds along with the waves. He was plunged into dangerous situations multiple times, but the Cat kept his balance.

The battle raged for a few moments, then the fighters broke apart. Felix crouched a little, clenching the hilt of his sword slowly. His hand was getting numb, but he kept on arguing, “Arnaghad, the iron will and the armor of your heart you depend on so much are the biggest flaws you have. Without emotions, you can never show your true self to your companions. You will walk this life alone.”

Arnaghad remained icy. Quietly, he swung his blade once more, but before his sword could hit, Felix disappeared. He looked around in a daze, and then a voice in his heart told him that the stranger was right. The advice from Alzur, Erland, Elgar, and Ivar rang in his mind. His erased emotions were his strength, but also his biggest flaw. Unfortunately, without any emotions, Arnaghad could never realize what it meant to feel. He could not turn back anymore. The School of the Bear was already broken. Even if he were to regain his emotions, nothing would go back to normal.

“Arnaghad. Finally found you.” A dark, swirling square portal appeared in the air. Three robed figures appeared from the portal and landed silently. Magic swirled around them like light.

A handsome man with graying sideburns looked at him. “Come with me, my friend.” Alzur smiled at his long-lost friend. “I shall help you regain your emotions and create a new Bear School. You will have the chance to patch up your regrets.”

Arnaghad held his sword cautiously, staring at his creators in disbelief. He also looked at the man behind them. The man named Idarran had a manic smile on his face. The creators. They’re supposed to be dead, and yet they’re still alive? “You abandoned us without a word, and now you want us back? What do you think we are? Pets? I’m not going back!”

***

In the east of Kaedwen stood the Blue Mountains. Within it was the fortress of Kaer Morhen. Vesemir was witnessing the growth of the Wolf School under Elgar’s guidance. Every spring, the school’s members would travel the northern lands, slaying monsters and taking requests. They remained neutral, not taking any sides in politics or war, nor did they break their moral code by taking any assassination requests just for coins. Yet they wouldn’t stubbornly stick to the so-called creed either. The Wolves would demand payment depending on their mood and the fluctuating prices in the market. That helped them adapt to different lands.

However, they had a mandatory rule. Everyone, no matter where they were, must return to Kaer Morhen every winter, bringing the coins, items, and even children they gained from the Law of Surprise. They would share their triumphs and defeats with their brethren. The Wolves’ casualty rate was always low. Unlike the Griffins, they wouldn’t throw themselves into danger for their ideals. They wouldn’t take any requests that were obviously beyond their capabilities, and they knew how to stay away from a lot of trouble.

Thanks to the warm surrounding and great camaraderie as well as the assistance from the sorcerers Chird and Hieronymus, Wolf School quickly gained a hundred witchers, becoming the school with the most number of members.

And then the fateful day came. As the founder and master blacksmith of the school, Elgar, in a bid to make better weapons and armor for his brethren, left the school to travel the land, searching for master blacksmiths all over the realms. Six months later, he returned, weary but smiling warmly. In his knapsack were blueprints he spent a lot of effort making. Once he made armor and weapons out of these blueprints, his brethren would have a safer time adventuring.

However, his passion was quickly turned into despair. Despair worse than the falling out in Morgraig. The once bustling and noisy Kaer Morhen was nothing but ruins standing on steep cliffs, its walls torn down. The stair-like walls were torn in half, and bricks were strewn all across the ground. The barbican and city gate’s remnants had black marks on them, proof that they were burned. The turrets had holes bored through them, as if they were hit by falling meteorites. Some were broken from the middle.

Elgar could accept this. He could always rebuild if the castle was gone, but if the people were gone, then everything he’d brought back would mean nothing. Elgar knelt before the gates of Kaer Morhen, where bloody corpses lay. He saw familiar faces among the corpses. They’d greet him every time they saw him.

They were dead now. Their faces were covered in blood, their bodies cold and lifeless, but their eyes were wide open, the last remnant of their rage and dismay etched on their visage. More than nine out of ten people of Kaer Morhen were dead. The swordmaster was stabbed by swords and pitchforks. Young witchers held their bellies, leaned against the charred tree in the courtyard. They weren’t breathing anymore, their dilated pupils still staring at the broken castle. Some of the corpses belonged to young children who hadn’t even passed the Trial just yet. They were burned and electrocuted into cinders.

The witchers’ corpses were strewn across the castle. Lying beside them were the corpses of peasants, soldiers, violent thugs, and some sorcerers. For one witcher corpse, ten bodies of their enemies lay beside them. Even so, that did not change the fact that Kaer Morhen was gone. Elgar buried his face in the mud, tears covering his gaunt cheeks. “What did we witchers do wrong? Why did they do this to us?” We’ve always been neutral! We only minded our own business! Why did this happen to us? “Why? Why? I should never have left!”

Regret and fury flared in Elgar’s heart. He was the founder of the school, and yet in their last moments, he failed to stand with them and fight off the invaders. He would rather die valiantly in battle than live alone in this world.

“Elgar…” Vesemir stared at the broken school, the rims of his eyes getting red. Memories of that fateful day flooded his mind like waves in a sea, but they were pushed down.

His younger self was buried under the sea of corpses, unconscious. This would be goodbye to Elgar. He stared at the grandmaster and walked out of the mist.

Winds howled over the castle, and a diamond-shaped portal appeared. Four silhouettes leapt out of the portal and landed before the wailing witcher.

“Elgar.” The voice Elgar vividly remembered rang out in the air. He looked up, his eyes still watery, but he saw a familiar face. “Come with us and end this monstrosity once and for all.”

Sagely Cosimo, Idarran, and icy Arnaghad stood behind that man.

“It’s been years, but you’re still as weak as ever.” Arnaghad shook his head. “Wipe your tears and make yourself useful if you’re a man.”

“They’re dead. All dead. They can’t come back anymore.” Elgar wiped his tears.

“No.” Alzur’s eyes twinkled with light that shone brightly. “You have a chance to right this wrong, trust me.”

***

Beneath the Dragon Mountains was the coast of Kovir and Poviss. Stars shone in the night sky above, while Kaer Seren stood silently on the cliff. It had a rough outline, looking like a beast devouring the stars’ light.

A man in knight-like silver armor equipped with twin swords stood in the snowy night, listening to the waves crashing on the reef. He stared up at the changing stars silently, and memories that spanned a century filled his heart.

Under the guidance of valor, the Griffin School grew, despite the difficulties. The Law of Surprise was rare to begin with, and they were bound by a lot of noble rules. Not everyone could adapt to their teachings. More than a hundred years had gone by, but they only had slightly more than 60 members. Compared to the other schools, however, the Griffins had a great advantage. Their reputation was good, and the people gladly gave them requests and enough respect.

Erland could feel the oath he made slowly coming true. Alzur was no more, but the Griffin School inherited his will perfectly. He was confident that the world would eventually come to respect those who cut down the dangers that attacked humanity, just like how they admired the stars in the sky.

Hm? Erland cocked his eyebrow. The constellation of Centaurus, that stood brightly beside the silvery moon, suddenly shone crimson. Dangerously, bloodily crimson. The constellation hung over the castle overlooking the coast, and the red omen enveloped Kaer Seren. Something’s wrong.

Horrified, Erland quickly made a blue Sign and shoved it at the castle behind him. A blue light charged through the air, and the rune shone bright. A screeching explosion rattled the air, spreading across the castle.

“That’s the alarm!” Keldar, handsome though he had a long face, snapped out of his meditation. He roared as he ran out of his room, knocking on the doors nearby. “Get up! Danger incoming!”

Unlike most witchers, his eyes did not inspire fear. Instead, they twinkled with wisdom.

A burly, knightly witcher came out. His pupils were sharp. As he wore his armor, he asked, “What’s the situation, Keldar?”

“The grandmaster sounded the alarm. Wake our brethren. We have to leave immediately!” Keldar shouted.

The witchers moved quickly, but orderly. Erland charged straight to the castle, but the ominous feeling in his heart hung heavier with every passing moment. His face was red, and he clenched his teeth. He quickly made gestures with both hands, holding them high over his head. A gigantic silver barrier of Quen expanded like a balloon, keeping the castle under its protection.

***

But it was too late. Something thundered in the night, and it rattled the air. The roar was a hundred times louder than the alarm Erland set off. The castle, the cliff, and the nearby sea were starting to shake. Behind the castle stood a steep, towering mountain. From beyond the skies, a terrifying roar came. The snow that had covered the Dragon Mountains for a thousand years, the snowy, ancient land on the slope, started to crack.

Like a tsunami, the avalanche rumbled down the sides of the gash. Faster and faster it went toward the ancient castle underneath the mountain. Hurricanes screamed, plunging the world into darkness, and the avalanche quaked the earth.

Erland stood before the castle, and he saw through the night. He saw white steam rising from the mountain nearby. Rising, rising, until it reflected the sharp moonlight, then it tore open a hole through the dark skies.

Endless snow galloped down the mountains like ten thousand stallions, bringing with it deadly chill and a destructive roar.

When the witchers saw what was going on, when Keldar finally gathered his brethren and came to their mentor’s aid, it was all too late.

The snow tumbled off the cliff and fell like a torrential downpour, crashing into Kaer Seren without fail. The barrier Erland held up only lasted for a moment under the assault of nature, and it broke.

That night, beautiful snow tore off its mask, revealing the true, violent nature it had hidden for a thousand years. The castle was engulfed. Snow covered the plains, but it wasn’t enough. It rolled off the cliff overseeing the coast and filled the sea, forming countless bizarre glaciers.

The snow rolled off into the sea along with the pale, foaming waves, taking with it more than sixty lives. The castle was mostly destroyed by the impact. The only thing remaining was the top of a tower jutting through the snow-covered tomb. Everything else was buried underneath.

The once vibrant, lively School of the Griffin was melded into the snow and turned into a great snow mountain overseeing the coast.

***

A long, long time later, one single hand pushed itself through the snow. It was Erland, and he was ashen. Like a madman, he dug and dug through the snow, but all he found were cold, lifeless bodies.

A few days later, the mountain behind Kaer Seren, which had grown more than a hundred feet taller, saw more than sixty graves dug in it. Erland had changed into traveling attire. He took out the journal he recorded his life’s adventures and knowledge in. The grandmaster buried Liber Tenebrarum into the grave of Keldar.

Once again, he looked back at his destroyed home. Despair and agony flooded him like waves. His dreams, goals, and aspirations were destroyed once more. The grandmaster left, never to return.

Coen was in the mist. He watched everything, his eyes red.

Not too long later, a gash opened up in the mountain path Erland was taking. Five silhouettes landed before him. Alzur extended his hand, inviting the grandmaster to join him. Cosimo’s face was blackened for some reason, but he smiled at Erland.

“Erland, my prized student. Join me. Your brethren have died in vain, but I swear I shall revive them.”

Erland took Alzur’s hand without hesitation.

***

Further down south in Amell stood Tir Tochair, home to Gorthur Gvaed. A great spiraling staircase adorned the conspicuous tower of this fortress. Ivar was crouched on the castle’s walls. Beneath him was a moat a few hundred feet deep. Mist swirled over the moat, and the air was filled with the horrifying stench of poison.

When he looked at the starry sky above, his eyes that could see through dimensions showed him terrifying scenes. Lightning leapt across the skies like snakes. Again and again lightning slithered, but he heard no thunder. Then winds howled, and Ivar’s fringe slapped his cheeks. A white ribbon quickly lit up the night sky, and it wriggled like a maggot.

Countless silhouettes appeared on the ribbon. They were vague and terrifying, but as they came closer, they got clearer. The knights had horned helmets adorned with feathers. They wore deathly gray masks, and the skin underneath was white as corpses. The skeletal steeds they rode wore grey, tattered rugs.

Winds howled, and lightning cut through the black sky. Hauntingly beautiful singing came from the ribbon, then the knights turned directions, coming straight to Gorthur Gvaed. The skeletal horses seemed to have crushed the walls beyond the moat easily. The king of the Wild Hunt was in the vanguard, charging straight ahead. It had a skull for a head, and its helmet was rusted. Greenish-grey flames flared in its empty eye sockets, and its tattered cloak billowed in the wind. Its necklace clanged against its rusty armor.

“Ivar Evil-Eye!” The king of the Wild Hunt kicked its horse’s rib, letting out horrifying, arrogant laughter. “The Viper School belongs to us! They will join us and race toward the end of days!”

“No, you bastard! Give them back to me!”

“Then come at us. I await you in another world.”

“I swear, someday I’ll find your hiding place and tear you down, you bastards! I will make you kneel before me!”

A skeletal knight behind the king of the Wild Hunt took off its helmet. Its eyes were gray, and he stared at Ivar numbly. Something was flaring in its heart, but it was pushed down. A silver viper medallion hung around the knight’s neck, gleaming. How ironic. Behind that knight were five more that had viper medallions hanging before their chests.

Ivar leapt, unsheathing his sword, and he swung it high in the air. The cavalry’s illusion was cut in half, turning into smoke. The grandmaster landed, clenching his teeth and shivering in rage. Ever since the Viper School’s inception, the Wild Hunt would come and take its members away once every few years. They seemed to have considered the school a place from which to steal new recruits. Time and time again, they took away Ivar’s students.

The Wild Hunt was the Viper School’s nemesis, but Ivar was powerless to stop them. He had the power to see through dimensions, but not the power to conquer them. Under the attacks of the Wild Hunt and the growing greed of the Southern empire, the Viper School was weakening. They would go extinct at this rate.

“Ivar.” An icy voice snapped Ivar out of his rage.

“Arnaghad, you icy son of a bitch! You’re still alive?”

“I am not going to die before I pay you back for breaking my school up,” Arnaghad retorted.

Four figures came out from behind him. Ivar took a look, and his heart thumped. Elgar, Erland, Alzur, and Idarran showed up. Ivar rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things.

“Stop that, Ivar. It’s true. We’re still alive.” Alzur smiled at Ivar. “Come back. We shall rid you of your problem once and for all.”

“You’ll deal with the Wild Hunt? Are you for real?”

“I swear, in the name of my love.” Alzur looked at the other witchers. “Do you see? Everyone has their own wish they want to be granted, but we must band together. This time, however, we will not rid this world of its monsters. We will no longer sacrifice ourselves for the laughable people. We will only do things for ourselves.”action

***

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