Demon Hunter: School of the Wolf.

Chapter 632 The Black Dragon's Dream! Awakening!
Mary's body tensed the moment she heard that pleasant sound.

She could already picture what the voice belonged to.

She had long, dark golden hair that cascaded over her slender shoulders, and her exposed skin was as white as snow. Her bright blue eyes were like those of a gentle doe.

She often wore a gray-green dress with lace trim that rustled with her footsteps, the swaying of the skirt like an accompaniment to each graceful, dancing step.

Sorceresses are always beautiful because in magic academies, they use magic to modify their bodies and appearances.

Mary had naturally seen many beautiful women: the girl next door, the intellectual scholar, the elegant lady, the playful young girl...

But before meeting her, Mary had never imagined that there could be such a beautiful girl in the world. She was the embodiment of beauty on earth, making all beautiful things pale in comparison.

If she were just a stranger, Mary could have enjoyed this beauty without reservation—no one dislikes beautiful things—but unfortunately, she wasn't.

Unfortunately, there is a fundamental and irreconcilable conflict between them.

A witcher.

"Why did she come?" Mary asked, puzzled. "What does searching for Erin have to do with an elf who is in dire straits herself...?"

You wouldn't want to know this so soon...

Mary immediately realized something as her mentor's slightly pitying voice flashed through her mind.

Lovebirds!
Erin actually "lent" our lovebird to that girl?!
Mary's fair cheeks puffed up instantly, turning a deep blush.

"How could Erin be missing..." The silvery voice suddenly became clear, but then stopped abruptly.

Mary also took a deep breath without making a sound, and the blush on her cheeks faded in the blink of an eye.

When she turned around to face the portal, there was no trace of anything amiss on her pretty face.

She stared expressionlessly at the girl in front of the orange-red portal. The girl wasn't wearing a long dress, but rather a refined adventurer's leather armor outfit—and of course, she was equally beautiful and stunning—her lips slightly parted as she looked at Mary in surprise.

Francesca Fantaby, whose name means "Daisy of the Valley," was an elven princess.

The air suddenly became quiet.

Dante and Vesemir exchanged a glance.

“That’s how popular outstanding witchers are, just like Arryn was back then.” Vesemir raised an eyebrow at Dante.

Dante returned an approving look, indicating, "That's right, that's what a great wolf-style witcher is like."

Jerón Morlü watched this scene and pursed his lips.

"Boom~"

Ada Emin stepped out of the portal, and Francesca Fantaby and Mary tacitly looked away.

"How is the Free Spirit?"

Vera looked at Ida Emin with an expressionless face, as if nothing had happened.

Ida Emin glanced at Mary, then at Francesca Fantaby, and gave Vera a barely perceptible eye roll:

"Okay, but not too good."

"Because of a sudden celestial conjunction, we seized the opportunity to break through Ban Ade's encirclement. However, even so, the mountain people suffered heavy casualties in this war..."

"Celestial conjunction?" Vera exclaimed in surprise.

Ada Emin nodded, glanced at Francesca Fantaby, and said meaningfully, "Yes, coincidentally, a celestial conjunction suddenly occurred at the most difficult moment of the battle..."

“Yes, it’s…it’s a very coincidental coincidence…” Francesca Fantaby interrupted nervously, “It must be a deity, a deity who heard the prayers of the people of the mountains…”

A deity? Vera paused, looking thoughtfully at Francesca Fantaby's flustered appearance.

"Silly girl, you've given yourself away..." Ada Emin sighed inwardly, looking at Francesca Fantaby's flustered expression, and casually changed the subject: "What happened to Erin... wait..."

Ada Emin glanced instinctively at the desolate wilderness around her, and was suddenly stunned:
"Here...where is this place?"

“Ban Ade,” Vera raised her hand to interrupt the elven knower’s half-open mouth, “let’s talk about the problem on the way. Where’s the lovebird?”

Mary glanced silently at Ida Emin with a hint of unspoken expectation, only to see her turn her head to look at Francesca Fantaby.

"In my..."

Francesca Fantaby glanced at Mary almost imperceptibly, then took out a crystal-clear bird from her budding breast.

Without needing any prompting from others, he cupped it in both hands and tossed it into the sky.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the lovebird swayed in mid-air and flew westward.
-
Where is this place?

He walked in darkness, complete and pure darkness without light.

Walking... no... even the concept of walking is chaotic.

Walking requires firm footing, but the ground offered him no solid tactile feedback or support. In fact, in the darkness, he couldn't distinguish up from down, left from right, just like in a dense primeval forest, where it was difficult to tell whether it was uphill or downhill.

Or perhaps it was the same deep sea as in his previous life, where it was equally difficult to discern directions, even though he had never dived to the lightless abyss.

But he was by no means floating in mid-air.

He didn't move, yet he was moving forward—or rather, forward, as if in the darkness, he was heading towards the place he was meant to be.

and many more……

What was the deep sea in my past life?

He felt he remembered something that seemed insignificant, yet also extremely important.

He thought about it for a while, then gave up and continued walking in the deep and silent darkness, feeling dazed and confused.

He didn't know how far he had traveled, and he seemed to have no concept of distance.

But as time went on, he gradually, gradually began to lose patience...

How much further do I have to go?

He asked, not to himself, not just to himself, but to the darkness.

The silence in the darkness fueled his anger.

An inexplicable anger rose in my heart, burning fiercely and illuminating the darkness.

The darkness was minimal, just a small patch in front of us.

In pure darkness, the presence or absence of fire makes no difference.

Because the tiny flame could not pierce the deep darkness.

It was still dark all around, in every direction.

No! It's different! He suddenly realized something, a flash of inspiration struck him: I can see myself clearly!

Although he didn't know that the faint light was useless even in illuminating the way forward, how could it possibly help him escape this dark abyss?

But instinctively, he lowered his head...

Dark, sharp claws scratched at the void, and ginkgo leaf-shaped black scales spread out from the center of the sharp claws and the strong, thick calves, extending upwards to a shield-shaped black scale.

"Buzz—Hiss—"

The "rage" that illuminates the entire body emanates from within the shield-shaped scales, flickering and burning like breath.

At that moment, as his gaze fell upon the burning rage, he suddenly realized...

I... am a dragon!

"Roar--"

Amidst the violent, world-destroying roar, my vision spun and shook violently.

When the roar ceased, his vision stopped swaying. He hovered before the shield-shaped scales, now free of crimson flames, gazing up at the imposing, mountain-like figure.

The scorching breath with the smell of sulfur emanated from its nasal cavity, and its scarlet, restless vertical pupils glared angrily.

The black dragon... met his gaze...

"Roar--"

The dragon's roar, as loud as a bell and ancient and solemn, made even the deepest, quietest darkness tremble, its sound rising and falling, shaking uncontrollably.

【What? 】

He shouted at the top of his lungs, desperately trying to understand the dragon's song, but the black dragon just stared at him silently and never sang that solemn and majestic song, like the clanging of metal.

then……

The black dragon slowly closed its dragon eyes, and the rage that illuminated the darkness gradually dimmed.

A tremendous sense of regret surged through him in an instant, overwhelming him and making him feel cold all over, his heartbeat slowing down.

【etc! 】

【wait……】

The crimson dragon's eyes closed completely, and the world... returned to darkness.
-
"How is he? Is he feeling better?" A deep voice asked, carrying the clanging sound of metal striking metal.

“I don’t know what constitutes ‘good’. To be honest, when I ‘encountered’ him last night, I didn’t think he would survive, even though he’s the most resilient witcher,” a woman with a clear and sweet voice said with a complicated tone. “There’s only one Brocleon and one Amel Mountain Range around here…”

"Where could I find a monster that could inflict such injuries and still not be killed?"

The man was silent for a long time before saying, "You've stumped me, Nana. I'm just a knight without a title, not a witcher."

"To be honest, in the field of monster studies, I only know about water ghosts and tree spirits..."

“Shh,” the woman hissed, interrupting him, “tree spirits aren’t monsters, they’re intelligent beings just like us humans. Don’t get it wrong, especially near Brockleon…”

"All right……"

"Don't just stand there watching, help me turn over, Colin, I'm going to apply the medicine to him."

“Yes, my beautiful, charming, and kind lady…” the knight named Colin replied flippantly.

Erin seemed to hear the sound of lips touching, and then her body was moved and she turned over.

In an instant, the pain seemed to begin the moment he turned over. A searing pain shot through his throat, chest, arms, and calves, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him, splitting him in two and crushing his soul into dust.

"Uh-ah-"

He wanted to yell to relieve the pain, or to make himself feel even worse and faint.

But her lips, stuck together, were too weak to even open; what escaped from her throat was a sob, softer than a whisper, like a woman crying.

What happened? Why does this voice sound like me?

“Na… Nana…”

A soft clinking of bottles and jars filled the air, and the man named Colin suddenly called out hesitantly, "Nana, he... this witcher... he seems to be making a sound..."

The sound of knocking on the bottles and jars paused.

The hurried footsteps brought with them the herbal scents of juniper, mint, and clover.

"Can you hear me?" the woman exclaimed in surprise.

Erin tried to respond, but at this moment she couldn't even whimper.

"He doesn't seem to be awake..." the man concluded, then said apologetically, "I might have misheard..."

The woman remained silent for a moment, and Erin's remaining witcher senses could vaguely perceive that a breeze seemed to have brushed against him.

“No, you heard me right,” the woman said, “He’s awake, but his injuries are too severe, too severe…”

"Don't be afraid, you're safe now," the woman whispered in his ear, trying to soothe him in the gentlest voice possible.

"Buzz~"

The wolf emblem trembled slightly, indicating that there was a magical power hidden within that reassuring sound.

Erin did feel much better, but he was still in a daze, as if in a dream, and he struggled to open his eyes to see.

In the dim, hazy light, a crimson fire burned in the sunlight.

No, that's not fire, that's a woman's long hair, just like Vera's, beautiful vermilion red hair.

In a daze, he slightly opened his mouth, which was stuck together, and almost shouted out loud.

What stopped him was not shame, but the sudden chill in his chest and the even more intense, excruciating pain.

This time, he finally got what he wanted.

The dream quickly crumbled in pain, and the pain and exhaustion once again dragged him into nothingness.

In the moments before his consciousness faded, he heard the pity of men and women.

“Don’t worry, poor child,” the man said. “You will be healed by Vinsena, the future mistress of the Ring of Maidruid. You will be alright.”

The woman punched the man hard, but perhaps because he was in her presence, she didn't argue. Instead, she soothed him again with her enchanting, clear, and sweet voice:

"Go to sleep, poor child, everything will be alright when you wake up."

[Visena... Colin... I think... I think I've heard those two names before...]

A thought flashed through my mind, but before I could think about it too much, my consciousness quickly sank into nothingness.
-
"Crackling~ Crackling~"

When he awoke again, the air was thick with the smell of resin, and he could hear the sound of flames licking dry branches.

Is it night yet?

he thought.

He was still in a daze, but at this moment he roughly realized that he was seriously injured, more seriously than any time before.

Why was I injured...? That black dragon... was it a dream or...?

The moment his thoughts began to race, he felt a splitting pain, so he could only abandon all thought and empty his mind.

"Ah, what a poor child," a woman's angry voice came from not far away, in the same direction as the sound of flames licking dry wood and branches. "He's not even fifteen years old yet, is he? Who is his witcher mentor, to be so irresponsible as to abandon a child in a place like this..."

"A demon hunter mentor?" the man asked, his voice almost overlapping the woman's. "Do demon hunters have mentors? I always thought they were all one person, accepting commissions to hunt monsters..."

“Of course, witchers have mentors,” the woman chuckled softly. “His bone age is only fourteen, and he has the school crest, which means he’s a Wolf School witcher who has passed all the trials. But for the next five years, he must follow a witcher mentor, learning how to take on jobs, how to integrate into society, and how to deal with those greedy nobles…”

"Under normal circumstances, a newly recruited Witcher and his mentor cannot be separated during these five years."

"I don't know why, but his advisor..."

The woman suddenly thought of a possibility, her voice choked, and she didn't continue.

The man also fell silent.

The wolf school is not the cat school.

If even a newly minted Witcher is this badly injured, then his mentor's injuries are likely to be even more severe.

There's only one possibility that the child's injuries are more severe...

Vesemir: ?
With a splitting headache, Erin didn't notice the misunderstanding between the man and the woman; he was simply thinking about the question that had occurred before he fainted last time.

[Colin...Vesena...aren't they Geralt's biological parents?]

(End of this chapter)