My words are sincere.

  The words I tell you are sincere.

  The Time of the Sword and Axe is coming.

  The Time of the Wolf Blizzard is coming.

  The Time of the White Frost and White Light is coming.

  The Time of Madness and Shame is coming.

  The Time of the End is coming. The world will be destroyed in the frost and snow and reborn under the brand-new sunlight.

  The ancient bloodline will be reborn, reborn from the seeds sown long ago. This seed will not sprout but burst into flames.

  These seven concise prophetic statements are well - known to every educated and intelligent being across the continent. No one can say for sure how long ago the elven prophet Ithlinne foresaw this impending doom.

  Yet, no one dismisses this prophecy as mere elven ramblings. People have witnessed firsthand the terrifying power of the white frost that accompanies the Wild Hunt's arrival.

  In regions blanketed by this frost, life cannot survive. Even during the sweltering heat of summer, the frost on the ground remains unmelted. If the white frost were to cover the entire continent, it would spell catastrophe for all living creatures.

  Zelin knew that the Wild Hunt's appearance brought the white frost, but the reason behind it eluded him.

  Perhaps only a select few elves understood the mystery, but they would never share the truth with a Witcher.

  Zelin crouched low, ensuring he remained within the protective shield's coverage. His eyes were fixed intently on the portal, which continuously spewed out white frost.

  He stole a sidelong glance at Francesca, whose forehead was dotted with beads of sweat.

  "Surely you can do something! The white frost is spreading rapidly!" he urged.

  "I'm well aware!" Francesca snapped, abandoning her usual elven grace. "But something's blocking us! There's an entity on the other side preventing us from sealing the portal!"

  Her outstretched arm trembled, and her light - red sleeves, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her slender arms.

  "The Wild Hunt's navigator! It must be their doing! For now, all we can do is contain the portal, but... there are multiple navigators.

  If they keep expanding the portal from the other side... We have to take them down!"

  The Wild Hunt hailed from a world beyond. While there were countless speculations about its origin, none had been proven conclusive.

  What was certain was their ability to traverse between different realms. The members of the Wild Hunt responsible for opening these inter - dimensional portals were known as navigators.

  Zelin knew that, like Mages and Sorceresses, navigators were highly proficient in magic. Without the aid of fellow spellcasters, he had no intention of facing a navigator alone.

  Moreover, a navigator's appearance was invariably accompanied by the Wild Hunt's ghostly cavalry.

  Zelin was confident in his ability to battle a single Wild Hunt soldier. When faced with two, he would need to be cautious and ideally launch a surprise attack.

  Confronting both Wild Hunt soldiers and a navigator? He'd do everything in his power to avoid such a perilous encounter.

  There was no shame in this. A Witcher's duty was to hunt monsters, not charge recklessly into certain death while spouting empty slogans.

  He fervently wished that these navigators, who piloted the Wild Hunt's black ships, would meet their end crashing within the portals as they traveled between worlds.

  It would be a boon for everyone. Why couldn't they sacrifice themselves for the greater good?

  Ethereal phantoms flickered continuously in the courtyard.

  The powerful Mages seemed to have the upper hand in their struggle to control the portal against the navigator.

  Then, a series of shrill cries issued from the portal. At first, they resembled the howling of hounds, then the hissing of wolves, as if a pack of ravenous beasts lay in wait within the dark crevice, ready to pounce.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  At the sound, the Witchers, without needing to confer, immediately assumed battle stances. They knew these were no ordinary monsters; only the Wild Hunt's hounds could produce such bone - chilling sounds.

  Zelin held the Axii sign in one hand and gripped his silver sword in the other, crossing them in front of his chest.

  Altria, too, readied her sword with both hands, braced for the impending fight.

  As expected, several massive hounds, each over a meter tall and nearly two meters long, leaped out of the portal's darkness.

  After a brief pause at the portal's entrance, they charged towards the five great Mages in the courtyard.

  The Witchers advanced to meet them. Just as the first - generation Witchers and Mages had done when battling wild monsters, they unleashed their magical abilities.

  Flames erupted from Igni signs, Yrden traps were set on the ground to slow the enemy, the protective shield of Quen was activated, and shockwaves generated by Aard were launched from their hands.

  As the Wild Hunt hounds charged towards him, Zelin bent slightly. The moment they entered the protective shield's range, he launched the Axii sign at their foreheads.

  Instantly, the hounds, their minds briefly affected, hesitated in their charge. Seizing the opportunity, Zelin slashed upwards at their throats with his silver sword.

  However, his high - grade griffin - crafted silver sword failed to penetrate their tough hides in one strike.

  It merely left a wound about three inches deep on the lower part of the hound's neck.

  The effect of Axii was short - lived.

  As Zelin withdrew his sword for another attack, the hound regained its senses, raising its powerful forearm claws to block the incoming blow.

  "Don't go out!" Zelin exclaimed, reaching out swiftly to halt Altria as she prepared to give chase. "The white frost outside is too dangerous. It'll freeze your blood solid!"

  To his surprise, the girl who usually heeded his advice didn't stop. Instead, she shook her head resolutely. "Zelin, I know what those phantoms were.

  It's Camelot! The northern suburbs, to be exact. I've been to that field many times; I'm not mistaken.

  ou told me about the Conjunction of the Spheres. If I'm right, going through this portal could take me back to my world, to Britain."

  "Maybe, maybe not. No one knows what lies beyond that portal. Those phantoms are just an illusion. I could show you countless similar fields in Velen's countryside." Zelin shook his head and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

  "I can't let you risk your life when we don't know what we're up against. So many have died at the hands of the Wild Hunt and joined their ghostly ranks. I don't want to see you among them the next time I face them."

  "I'm the king of Britain. I can't abandon my people to face the Anglo invasion alone. Lancelot, Gawain, Guinevere, Kay—they're all counting on me." Altria's voice was solemn.

  In her dark green eyes, Zelin saw a fierce determination and a deep sense of responsibility. Despite her small stature—she was barely 1.6 meters tall—he felt a newfound respect for her. He realized there was no way to convince her to stay.

  "Thank you for everything you've done. I'm... I'm sorry." Altria hung her head, her gaze fixed on the long sword in her hand.

  It was hard to tell if she was trying to explain herself or simply avoid his gaze. "When I pulled the Sword in the Stone, I vowed to give up my humanity and become a true leader. I..."

  "Alright, I understand," Zelin interrupted, closing his eyes and sighing.

  When he opened his eyes again, his golden, beast - like irises locked onto the Wild Hunt hounds launching another assault outside the protective shield.

  With a swift motion, he traced an inverted triangular rune in the air, and the Quen shield enveloped his body. Once protected, he extended his hand to Altria, who was still looking down.

  "Then let's go. I'm coming with you. A Witcher never abandons a charge until they're sure you're safe."

  Altria stared at his outstretched hand, bewildered. "This is my fight, not yours."

  "I said, I'm seeing this through," Zelin replied coldly, grabbing her arm with his gloved hand. He then turned to Francesca, who was straining to keep the portal in check.

  The elven Mage had clearly overheard their conversation. When she met Zelin's gaze, the corner of her mouth twitched. "Should I be happy I'll save on your wages?"

  "Exactly, and it's a hefty sum." With a Wild Hunt hound lurking outside, waiting for an opening, Zelin snatched the Witcher School of Griffin emblem from around his neck.

  He sized up the Mage for a moment before tossing the emblem into the neckline of her robe, making her yelp in surprise. "Sorry, but your robe has no pockets. I don't want this turning to dust in the white frost."

  His serious tone left Francesca speechless, her retort dying on her lips.

  "Once this is over, take the emblem south. My teacher is there. Tell him I've found a worthy successor, so he doesn't have to worry."

  "Should I feel flattered to get a Witcher's errand?" Francesca snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  "Here's the deal. If you run into that navigator on the other side, give them a good punch. I'll head for the portal and create an opening for you to cross the white - frost zone safely."

  Francesca closed her eyes. The protective shield around them began to contract, its semi - transparent glow intensifying as it inched closer to the portal's crack.

  Though she wasn't keen on Zelin's plan, she couldn't refuse. Having someone take on the Wild Hunt beyond the portal would ease the pressure on the Mages.

  It didn't take long for the other Witchers to notice Zelin's actions.

  George, the closest to him, fended off a hound and shouted, "Zelin! What are you doing? Get back here!"

  Zelin turned to face his fellow Witcher, a dragon - slaying dreamer. He gave a small wave. "George, next time we meet, I want to hear all about your dragon - slaying tales. Farewell!"

  He then faced the portal, blocking out the other voices. "Remember what I told you about the portal. This is our only shot. And I don't plan on ending up as a frozen statue."

  "Thank you, Zelin. You're more of a knight than anyone I know." Gratitude filled Altria's voice, but she was at a loss for more words.

  Her concern for her people in Britain, especially with foreign invaders threatening, was overwhelming. But the thought of entering the unknown portal alone was terrifying.

  Having Zelin by her side was a comfort she couldn't put into words.

  "Altria, I made a promise, and I always keep my word." Whether it was the battle's adrenaline or something else, Zelin seemed more human than his usual stoic Witcher self. His eyes were fixed on the portal, his jaw set. He took a deep breath.

  "Now!"

  In an instant, Zelin and Altria dashed out of the shield's protection.

  As a Wild Hunt hound lunged at them, Zelin thrust his sword into its open maw.

  Before the white frost could sap his body heat, he used the hound as a shield and plunged through the dark portal.