The Witcher: Grinding Experience Starting as a Wolf School Witcher

Chapter 85 The Beginning of All Evil

Holt's straight back bent at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"In 1194, I escaped the massacre at Kaer Mohan."

"I was overjoyed, thinking that it was good to be alive, and I didn't care at all even if I was criticized by the High Priestess of the Temple of Meritelli."

"Until Vesemir returned from the south, he learned what had happened from the high priest and found me."

"He was furious at the time. He said a lot of insults to me, accused me of not adhering to the doctrine and protecting Kael'Morhen, and we had a big fight. He said he would expel me from the Wolf School."

"At that time, I thought Vesemir was too rigid. What could be more important than living?"

"I was also in a fit of anger, so I threw down the badge and never went back."

"But the longer time goes by, the more guilty I feel."

"Every midnight, I dream of my former companions, Bernjov and his men, Vesemir, and the apprentices..."

At this point, his expression became ferocious and his voice became frantic.

"I began to feel extremely dissatisfied with King Éo's verdict on the massacre of Kaer Mohan."

"I protested to the High Judge of Adcalai, but I'm just a Witcher. I can't even get a meeting with him. What's the point of protesting?"

"I wanted revenge, so I started tracking down those wizards and gang leaders."

"So," he touched the snake head emblem on his chest, "I forged this badge, to do demon-hunting commissions while secretly lying in wait to find out who started the riots back then, one by one."

"Mercenary Warrant Officer Otto Margulis, Remko Hwalba, and Kari Nured!"

He gritted his teeth as he read those three names, "I will kill all three of them!"

"Kari Nured, I'll hang him from his own underwear!"

"Otto Margulis, that butcher, I'll hack him to death with a meat cleaver!"

"Remko Hvarba, I smashed his head with a shoemaker's hammer!"

"But the last one, the one who truly deserves to die, is Atamon of Asgut."

He slammed his right hand against his right thigh, then pulled up his trouser leg down to his knee, revealing the horrifying, sunken scar.

"See, you've already seen it!"

"My right leg is crippled. Four years ago, during a demon-hunting commission, I was ambushed by a giant dragonfly, which crippled my right leg."

"And that damned Artamon is one of Cordwin's most powerful wizards!"

"How am I supposed to deal with him, with my disabled body?"

He angrily pounded his chest three more times, as if trying to vent all the resentment in his heart.

Finally, his cat-like eyes looked at Geralt.

"I thought I would never have another chance in my life, so I used my savings to buy the estate called Rocamorra."

"But I was not resigned to it. I secretly observed Kael'thas Morhen and learned of you, Geralt."

"I know you are a genius that Kaer Mohan has never seen before in a century, and I also know that you will descend the mountain on the spring equinox of 1229 as is customary. I know your route."

"So I wandered at the foot of the Blue Mountains, waiting for you."

Geralt met Holt's gaze without speaking, his cat-like eyes filled with the rage of being outmaneuvered.

Holt waved his hand, his tone becoming low.

"I just didn't expect that you would head south first, and that we would just miss each other."

"Fortunately, it was just a waste of time. On the summer solstice, I found you by following your trail."

"South?" Alvin tilted his head, a look of doubt in his eyes. "Weren't you going to the beach?"

"Toussaint," Geralt explained. "You mentioned this place to me when we parted, so I didn't initially head west; I wanted to go see Toussaint, the place you spoke of."

"Holt, in your plan, am I just a tool in your hands for revenge?"

Geralt suppressed his voice.

He understood perfectly well.

If he is still in the dark, considering all the injustices he has encountered in the two years since he came down the mountain.

He won't let Atamon go; he'll kill him, absolutely.

"No! Geralt, I used you, but I would never harm you!"

Holt retorted loudly, "Do you remember the murder techniques I taught you?"

"That's the method I trained with you for a whole winter, teaching you how to kill someone with a tiny key—quickly, conveniently, and without leaving any trace."

"I remember."

Geralt first frowned, then his eyes widened as if he had suddenly realized something.

Holt gave a wry smile.

"The swordsmanship taught by Kael'thas is not suitable for killing humans. Spinning, dodging, and striking are for dealing with monsters."

"What I'm teaching you is a killing technique that kills with a single blow; I've subconsciously taught it to you countless times."

"When you meet Atamon, you will use my method to break his throat."

"As for me, I will turn myself in immediately and confess all my crimes before the judge, including the murder of those three mob leaders."

"I have the same hair color as you, white hair from a second mutation. I know all your methods."

"It will be me, not you, who will be convicted by the judge, Geralt."

Geralt swallowed hard, his heart still pounding.

The anger dissipated at that moment.

Alwin listened attentively, then raised his eyebrows to look at Holt's hair.

Indeed, his hair color was not the grayish-white of Vesemir due to age, but a creamy white.

The second mutation proved that this lame witcher had extremely high potential.

If he can live to see the future—no, as long as his lameness is cured—his strength will definitely not be much weaker than Vesemir's.

The atmosphere became somber. Alwin lowered his eyes, squeezed his legs tightly around the horse's belly, and the horse's hooves clattered.

Pull the reins tight with your palm, and the horse turns its head.

He gazed into those two pairs of amber cat eyes, his tone firm.

"Gentlemen, I think it's pointless for us to talk about this now. The tragedy has already happened and is irreversible."

"After all that, I think I've finally understood one thing."

"It's not that I, Alwin, am in danger, nor is it that you, Holt, are in danger."

He emphasized this point.

"But Kael'thas Morhen, and all the Witchers of the Wolf School, are in danger."

"It's been almost forty years, and the dean of this class, Ad Magic Academy, is still watching us like a venomous snake hiding in a swamp, relentlessly eyeing Kyle Morhen."

"One massacre won't satisfy him at all. Our years of forbearance and humiliation will only embolden him, making him think we're easy to bully!"

"Back then, he may have been afraid of the pressure from King Io and was forced to spare our lives."

"Yet the book 'Freaks, or Descriptions of Witchers' continues to flood the market, and the current Cordwin royal family is ignoring it. What does that mean?"

Arwen clenched his fists. "They're trying to wipe us out!"

"We must unite, or we will be defeated one by one!"

"The blood of the Wolf School must not be shed in vain!"

"If the laws of Cordwin cannot punish him, then let us use our steel swords to clear our names!"