The Witcher: Grinding Experience Starting as a Wolf School Witcher

Chapter 84 The Person Behind the Scenes

Alwin remained unmoved.

Holt pursed his lips, pointed to the hilt of the greatsword behind Alwin, and spoke softly.

"That greatsword behind you belongs to Bernjof, doesn't it? I didn't expect Vesemir to let you bring it out."

"Bernjolf was his close friend and partner, and this greatsword is his only remaining possession."

"Little one, Vesemir values ​​you highly."

Upon hearing this, Alwin believed the other party's words.

Arwen exchanged a glance with Geralt and revealed his information.

"Gentlemen, I've gathered some information at Viscount Jennings' camp that's very bad for us. It concerns the massacre at Kaer Morhan."

Upon hearing this, the eyes of the two witchers beside him suddenly turned icy cold.

Alwin took out the flat object wrapped in a blanket.

Slowly open it, and there it is, the magic crystal mirror.

The mirror is made from a single piece of crystal, while the frame is made of iron plated with silver and engraved with the four elements of earth, air, water, and fire.

"Magical communication device".

A chilling glint flashed in Holt's eyes.

"Yes," Alvin gripped the mirror tightly, "when I infiltrated the camp, I happened to witness the wizard's phantom in the mirror talking to Jennings."

"They talked about the plan to drive out the Temple of Meritelli this time. They would incite the temple priests to take action through a mob, and then use their power to suppress them, so as to completely wipe out Meritelli and leave no one alive."

Geralt looked up and saw Arwin's serious expression. After confirming that Arwin was not lying to him, his cat eyes widened in astonishment.

The Temple of Meritelli is one of the few friends that the Wolf School of Witchers can completely trust.

"There's also the book from back then called 'Freaks, or Descriptions of Witchers,' which was also created by the wizard behind the mirror. He used public opinion to incite a mob, thereby achieving his goal of destroying Kael'thas Morhen."

Geralt gripped the reins tightly, his chest heaving slightly, his mutated body suppressing the rage within him.

Alwin turned the mirror over; the back was smooth and clean, with a black bird decoration carved on it.

Strangely, birds do not have feet.

My fingertips gently traced the outline of the bird in flight.

"I think this bird pattern must be the emblem of the wizard behind it."

"A bird," Geralt exclaimed in astonishment after peering over to confirm.

"I've seen this emblem before. It's a bird without feet, Holt, right here at your estate, Rocamora Estate."

Holt merely glanced at the footless bird, his voice indifferent, revealing no emotion.

"Geralt, I've told you before that the bird without legs is a very common emblem, countless throughout the continent. That doesn't prove anything, does it?"

“Indeed,” Geralt stroked his chin, “I have seen several noble families using similar coats of arms during my year-long travels.”

"No."

Alwin suddenly spoke, his cat-like eyes fixed on Holt.

His attention had been on Holt ever since he met him.

With the added effects of [Dual Soul] and [Blizzard], even the slightest changes in Holt's facial muscles could not escape his perception, including his eyes.

Although the other party concealed it well, he still caught a slight change in their eyes.

The moment Holt saw the mirror, a murderous glint flashed in his eyes.

But upon seeing the legless bird, he quickly reverted to his previous indifference.

This is clearly a contradiction.

Alwin said firmly, "You know who he is, Holt, you know."

Holt frowned at the other person's confident tone.

Alwin said, "I've heard your story from Nannick, and I know what you've been doing all these years."

"You are a witcher who escaped the massacre at Kaer Morhen. You saw the wizards attacking the fortress with your own eyes. You know who they are."

Geralt's gaze was fixed on Holt.

Holt chuckled. "Little one, has the Temple of Meritelli told you much?"

"I did see the wizards attacking the fortress back then, but they were all wearing the same hoods as you, so I couldn't see their faces clearly."

Alwin sneered, "And what about your manor, Rocamora, a transliteration of an ancient word meaning vengeance?"

"You are a Witcher, I've seen your information in the archives, Reindeer."

"Others may say that Geralt and I were not proficient in our ancient arts due to the passage of time."

"Surely you, a witcher teacher who's lived for over a hundred years, don't know what this means?"

"At this point, are you still going to hide it?"

Holt's cat-like eyes narrowed rapidly, he gasped for breath, and his clenched fist produced a cracking sound as his knuckles snapped together.

Geralt now realized what the white-haired witcher was hiding.

"Holt, you need to explain yourself today."

Holt's gaze swept over the two of them, and after looking into Geralt's piercing cat-like eyes, he slowly lowered his head.

Once the seed of doubt is planted, trust will crumble instantly.

"Ugh...these two are such a handful. Why, why can't they just follow my instructions?"

"You want to know the answer? Okay, then I'll tell you."

"The mirror in your hand belongs to Atamon, Atamon from Asgut, the dean of the Ban Ade Magic Academy, and the renowned wizard Cordwin."

"The description of 'Freaks, or the Witcher' is from his hand."

Geralt braced himself against the horse's flanks and rode forward, his cat-like eyes glaring angrily at him as he growled in a low voice.

"You lied to me! You knew all this, yet you said you didn't, Holt! Look me in the eyes!"

Holt didn't look up; he dared not meet the other's sharp gaze.

Geralt paused, his eyes widening as if he understood something, and gritted his teeth.

"You're using me!"

Holt abruptly raised his head, his cat-like eyes narrowing.

"Yes, Geralt, I did intend to use you, but I never intended to harm you."

"You need to give me an explanation," Geralt said coldly.

Holt froze, then his Adam's apple bobbed violently, and the whites of his eyes turned bloodshot.

The full moon shone brightly on his pale,狰狞 face.

The atmosphere became tense.

After a long while, the overwhelming emotions overwhelmed his mutated body, and he began to tremble, his voice filled with sorrow and regret.

"Thirty-six years! A full thirty-six years! Do you know how I've survived? I've had enough of this wretched existence!"

He jabbed his finger into his heart. "Especially when I see you, Alwin, you young witchers, I hate myself!"

Then it pointed eastward and roared fiercely.

"I should have died at Ker Mohan, just like Bernyov and the other apprentices!"

He took a breath, his voice growing increasingly low.

"I shouldn't have run away, Vesemir, I shouldn't have run away."

"I regret it. Yes, I regret escaping from Kaer Mohen."

"If I had another chance, I would definitely stay there and never let you accuse me of being a coward or a wimp!"

"I want to atone for my sins, do you understand? But I... but I no longer have the chance..."