NOVEL SIMPLE 198. The Match Isn’t Over, But the School of the Wolf Has Won.
The horn had just sounded.
The male sorcerers and the future sorcerers in the audience began to stir noisily.
Among the cheering crowd, several sorcerer apprentices, carrying trays, carefully maneuvered through the crowd, avoiding the enforcers of order. They were the sorcerers running the betting rings in secret.
One sorcerer had just pocketed his money and took the betting slip when his companion beside him scolded him: "Bogdan, are you stupid? Why would you bet on the School of the Wolf to win the first match?"
Bogdan, the sorcerer, scratched his head while holding the betting slip.
"What's wrong, Radek?"
"Aren't the School of the Wolf the most orthodox witchers?"
"I heard that their mutagen formulas and training are much more powerful than those of the School of the Cat!"
"Is that what you read in a book?" Radek, who had also bet twenty Orens, placed his money on the School of the Cat.
"Not exactly..." Bogdan gave Radek a curious glance, then shook his head. "The professor mentioned it during the history class a few days ago. Could he be wrong?"
Radek didn't answer immediately but instead asked, "How much did you bet?"
"Five Orens."
"That's not too bad. Just think of it as paying for a lesson!" Radek nodded, explaining:
"You're from Novigrad, so you don't know."
"Every few years in Kaedwen, they host a tournament between the School of the Wolf and the School of the Cat. Anyone who's seen a few matches knows."
"The School of the Wolf is weak in swordsmanship but strong in hunting monsters."
"The School of the Cat is the opposite."
"How many matches have you seen?" Bogdan asked curiously, cutting in. He wasn't too bothered about losing five Orens, considering the long distance he'd traveled to study magic in Kaedwen.
"Twice, both times my father took me to watch," Radek raised two fingers and continued: "In the past, most of the time, the first and second rounds of matches were a one-on-one sword duel and a monster hunt."
"The winners of these two events are almost always predictable, with little surprise."
"My father said that these two events are more like advertisements for each school's craftsmanship than battles for victory or the prize."
"If you want a monster hunted, go to the School of the Wolf. If you need someone killed, go to the School of the Cat."
"Of course, it's said that the relationship between the two schools isn't all that friendly. Maybe it's just a mutual understanding?"
Radek's tone carried some uncertainty.
Bogdan nodded thoughtfully.
Radek's assessment of the two schools of witchers was credible.
After all, his father was an earl on the western side of Kaedwen, a powerful noble who kept his lands well-governed.
"What about the melee?" Bogdan glanced at the center of the arena.
The witchers from both schools had already begun probing attacks.
At this point, it was still unclear which school had the upper hand. The School of the Wolf's offensive was slightly conservative, but they were effectively blocking all attacks from the School of the Cat. Radek also stared at the center of the arena. Without turning back, he continued: "The melee is the most unpredictable part of the tournament."
"Team sword battles, team sign battles, with monsters, without monsters... Sometimes even a king's royal guard joins in."
"My father once said that the format of these melees often reflects the king's attitudes and leanings."
Attitudes?
Leanings?
Bogdan lowered his head, pondering.
The School of the Wolf excelled at hunting monsters but was weak in swordsmanship, and now the king was using this melee format...
So...
"Does this mean... your king wants the School of the Cat to win?" Bogdan asked curiously.
-------------------
On the main platform of the arena.
Watching the witchers from the School of the Wolf "cower" and evade attacks, Henselt shook his crystal wine glass in satisfaction. He didn't particularly care about the outcome of the match, but seeing the school of the man beside him suffer brought him genuine pleasure. The translucent crimson liquid swirled in his control, sloshing inside the wine glass.
"And this is just the beginning," Henselt thought.
Sol would soon watch his school's apprentices be killed, one by one. Then, at the height of his emotional turmoil, when he would be at his most vulnerable, the leader of the School of the Cat, whom he despised the most, would stab him through the heart with a single sword thrust!
Henselt had imagined this scene countless times over the past few days.
Each time, he would be so thrilled that he would drink several more glasses of wine and eat a few extra bites of meat. He had even moved this match, originally scheduled to be the last, to the first one earlier that morning.
He wanted Sol and his School of the Wolf gone from this world as soon as possible, even if it was just by a moment!
He downed his wine in one gulp and glanced at the School of the Wolf's worsening situation. Henselt turned his head, smirking playfully at Sol, and asked: "Grandmaster, who do you think will win this melee?"
Sol glanced at Henselt expressionlessly.
"Naturally, I hope our School of the Wolf will win, but the School of the Cat is indeed superior in swordsmanship..."
Henselt's smile widened, his chubby face scrunching up.
"Oh, by the way..."
"Speaking of the School of the Cat, where is Treyse?" Sol suddenly asked.
"You invited me, but didn't invite him as well?"
He noticed?
Henselt's entire body shook. He studied Sol carefully for a moment, then pretended nonchalantly to look back at the arena and said: "Of course, I invited him!"
"But he refused. Perhaps he has other matters to attend to!"
"Let's not worry about him and just enjoy the match!"
Sol glanced deeply at the king of Kaedwen. Then, after eyeing the deputy headmaster of Ban Ard, Jenks, who stood next to him with a pointed hat and a smile, Sol lowered his head and looked back at the arena.
-------------------
"Clang!"
"Clang!"
"Clang!"
The continuous clash of metal rang from the field.
Standing on the sidelines, Guxart saw the School of the Wolf's witchers being pressured by their opponents. Yet, his face showed no sign of joy. Instead, his brows furrowed tightly.
The sorcerers and the king didn't understand swordsmanship. They only saw the witchers of the School of the Cat attacking and those of the School of the Wolf defending, assuming the former had the upper hand. But Guxart didn't think so.
Watching the fluid dodges and attacks of the witchers from the School of the Wolf, he couldn't help but clench his fists.
"What's going on?"
"How are these witchers from the School of the Wolf so strong?"
"Could they have cheated as well?"
"The finesse and fluidity of their swordsmanship shouldn't belong to witchers who've just passed the Trial of the Grasses!"
"Especially that witcher named Allen!"
Guxart's face grew grim as he gazed at the witcher from the School of the Wolf with blue cat-like eyes.
While the other witchers from the School of the Wolf had surprisingly strong swordsmanship, they were only barely managing to dodge and deflect attacks from the overwhelming strength of the School of the Cat. But Allen was different.
Not only was he handling his own opponent with ease, but he also had the energy to help his comrades fend off attacks. His strength, speed, agility, and swordsmanship far exceeded those of the other witchers.
"Fortunately, I made the tough decision this morning to have Baleka and the others take the pills. As the pills take effect, there's no way the School of the Wolf can win!"
Guxart pursed his lips and clenched his fists: "If I had shown mercy, I wouldn't have been able to accomplish the goals I planned!"
"That is something I absolutely cannot allow!"
-------------------
"Clang!"
The sound of clashing metal echoed in the air. A flash of cold steel was deflected by Allen's sword. Feeling the fierce strength coming through his blade, Allen was quite astonished.
Earlier, during their probing strikes, the strength of the Cat School witchers was at normal levels. Their swordsmanship was only at the level of Cat School Dual-Wielding LV1, nothing beyond their expectations.
But now...
The strength behind the swings of these witchers was increasing. It wasn't just strength. Their reaction speed was also accelerating. Their timing for dodges and attacks was becoming more and more precise. As he thought this through, Allen frowned.
With a swift kick, he sent the Cat School witcher in front of him flying backward.
With a thought, he cast an appraisal on the Cat School witcher. Although he had already appraised the four Cat School witchers as soon as the horn had sounded.
But now...
Looking at the bulging veins, flushed faces, and heavy breathing of the witchers around him, it was clear something else was at play.
[Name: Baleka]
[Attributes: Strength 21 (+1), Agility 22 (+1), Constitution 18 (+1), Perception 26 (+1), Mystery 3]
Seeing the enemy's stats, Allen's blue eyes contracted sharply.
They've changed!
It wasn't a hallucination!
Apart from their mystery stat, all of the attributes of these Cat School witchers were increasing. Just then...
"Watch out, Allen!"
At the same time as Hughes' warning came from behind, Allen's ears twitched. He turned and parried the oncoming attack.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The rapid and frenzied thrusts were precisely blocked by Allen. But with each blow, he could feel that the power behind them was growing stronger. The bloodshot, yellow, murky cat-like eyes in front of him were only inches away, expanding and contracting!
It was eerily strange.
In the next moment...
The owner of those strange cat-like eyes used Allen's overwhelming force to jump back. Then, with a sidestep, he dodged Hughes' spinning sword strike and re-engaged with Hughes. Instinctively, Allen appraised him as well.
[Name: Jeffrey]
[Attributes: Strength 23 (+1), Agility 26 (+1), Constitution 17 (+1), Perception 21 (+1), Mystery 6]
"This one's the same!" Allen quickly glanced at the other two Cat School witchers.
No need to think further, the other witchers were definitely the same as well.
"Despicable Cat School scum!"
"Not only did they disguise their age, but they're also using stimulants!"
Allen cursed angrily in his heart. The witchers of the School of the Wolf had always relied solely on their own efforts!
At this moment...
The Cat School witcher Allen had kicked away, his face flushed, screamed wildly as he swung his sword at Allen!
His attacks were wild and unrestrained, all aimed at Allen's vital points or his joints and bones.
Clang!
Clang!
Sparks flew from the collisions of their swords.
This can't go on!
Allen thought.
Feeling the increasingly heavy blows coming through his sword. At this rate, even if the strikes didn't hit his neck or head, if they landed on his bones, they would surely cause fractures and render him immobile. He glanced at his comrades.
Although Hughes, Bond, and Fred were barely managing to fend off their opponents with their LV3 Wolf School dual-handed swords...
It was clear.
With their opponents' ever-increasing attributes, it was only a matter of time before they got hit. Allen had originally planned to hold back his strength. After all, for a witcher who had just passed the Trial of the Grasses, his attributes and swordsmanship were extraordinarily impressive.
He also wanted to use these Cat School witchers to give Hughes, Bond, and Fred more real combat experience and allow Bond to get his revenge and resolve his grudge.
But now...
If the Cat School witchers' abilities kept increasing...
Hughes, Bond, and Fred would be in real danger. Though Vesemir wasn't far away, there was a wooden gate between them, and in the chaos of battle, it would be impossible for him to arrive in time.
With his mind made up...
At that very moment...
Baleka, the Cat School witcher, swung his sword, flashing cold light as it sliced toward Allen. Allen's eyes sharpened, and his blue cat-like pupils contracted suddenly. His heart raced, and every muscle in his body instantly tensed within a second. Like a ravenous lion suddenly spotting its prey.
In the next moment...
With a push of his legs, he gripped his sword with both hands and swung it upward fiercely.
Clang!
Like a volcanic eruption, the immense force erupted, sending Baleka's sword flying in an instant. Before Baleka could even react to what had happened...
In the next moment...
The cold gleam that had knocked away Baleka's sword came down.
Crack!
Crack!
Within a second...
Both the arms and legs of this Cat School witcher were broken.
With a dull thud...
Before Baleka could even feel the pain—or perhaps because of the unknown pill he had taken, he couldn't feel it—he collapsed into the yellow-brown dirt, completely incapacitated.
Allen knew that these Cat School witchers were fighting with the intent to kill. But with so many people watching, he wasn't about to let the School of the Wolf be branded as killers of their own kind because of him.
These Cat School scum weren't worth it!
There would be plenty of time to settle things later, so for now, he'd let them go.
-------------------
The once-noisy arena suddenly fell silent as Baleka collapsed.
Complete and utter silence.
Everyone stared dumbfounded at the scene. It had all happened too quickly. Just a second ago, the eight witchers had been evenly matched, with the School of the Wolf even appearing to be on the losing side.
How had a Cat School witcher suddenly had both his arms and legs broken in an instant?
"Impossible!"
The incredulous voices came simultaneously from the arena and the main platform. The voices belonged to Guxart and King Henselt of Kaedwen. It made sense that Guxart, standing in the Cat School's area, would be shocked. But everyone turned to look at King Henselt.
Henselt realized something was amiss himself.
Cursing the Cat School witchers as "useless scum" in his heart, he cleared his throat under the strange gaze of the Grandmaster of the School of the Wolf. He clapped awkwardly and praised with a stiff smile: "A splendid match!"
"Indeed, quite splendid!" echoed Jenks, the deputy headmaster of Ban Ard, as he clapped as well.
The next moment...
A strange scene unfolded.
Although the match was far from over and the combatants were still fighting fiercely...
Thunderous applause began to ring out across the arena.
-------------------
"Is the match over? Who won?"
Bogdan, the male sorcerer apprentice from Novigrad who had come to study in Kaedwen, was finally startled awake by the applause.
He had woken up too early, gotten a poor seat, and had little interest in witchers' sword fights. Soon after the horn had sounded to start the match, he had fallen asleep leaning against the wall.
Radek's expression was complex. He turned to look at the few people who had bet on the School of the Wolf to win and sighed: "The match isn't over, but the School of the Wolf has won."
Bogdan: "Huh?"
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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199. Where Did the Celestial Convergence Come From?
200. Putting on a Show.
201. Henselt is Dead?
202. The Curse Of the Black Sun!
203. A Wolf is a Wolf.