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!"

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."

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