Beautiful Elsa

Ailin paused upon hearing Vesemir's words.

He instinctively stopped, glancing at the sword in his hand.

Though it was a training sword for apprentices, with no ornate decorations on the hilt or guard, the blade was completely free of nicks and the surface was polished to a mirror shine.

A good sword, but not a silver sword.

Ailin recalled briefly.

In the game, when fighting Drowners, a silver sword was indeed used, but it switched automatically.

So, a steel sword couldn't kill a Drowner?

"Our apprentice is very confident, daring to challenge a Drowner with a steel sword right after passing the Trial of Grasses," Vesemir said with a subtle sarcasm. He then continued in a deep voice, "Remember this, apprentice Ailin, if you lose, I'll make you polish every sword in Kaer Morhen until it shines!"

Before his brain could even process it, Ailin's ears caught the key phrase. He instinctively replied, "What if I win?"

Hearing the counter-question, Vesemir was stunned and muttered, "What if you win?" He hadn't expected this apprentice to be so bold, not only daring to space out during his lesson. With a monster right in front of him, he still had the courage to provoke him, a Witcher Master. At that moment, Vesemir even began to doubt if Ailin wasn't deliberately provoking him, but rather if the Swallow potion had poisoned his brain.

"Yes! What if he wins?" Leto, standing beside Vesemir, chimed in with schadenfreude.

"Hahaha, yes, yes, Vesemir, what if our apprentice wins?" This was the instigation from over a dozen Witcher companions off to the side.

Vesemir was cornered. His face flushed red, and he casually drew the "steel sword" from his back, roaring at Ailin, "If you win, this sword in my hand will be yours!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the training ground erupted. Leto, standing next to Vesemir, gaped in shock, "Are you crazy? That's your Elsa, a dwarven masterwork worth 17,325 Oren. You still owe me 3,000 Oren for this silver sword."

Vesemir's expression darkened, and he brought the "steel sword" closer to his eyes. The bright, clear blade had clearly been meticulously cared for by its owner, featuring an intricately carved guard and a silver-white edge that seemed sharp enough to cut skin just by looking at it.

Evidently, Vesemir had drawn the wrong sword. The steel sword, worth over three hundred Oren, was still obediently sheathed on his back.

A few apprentices didn't understand what 17,325 Oren represented; they had never left Kaer Morhen since they could remember. But the Witchers around them did. As soon as they heard the figure, the training ground buzzed. "17,325 Oren? I worked my tail off on contracts this year and only saved 500 Oren!" "You're lucky, I not only didn't earn any money this year, but I also lost 234 Oren due to injuries and equipment repairs..." "As expected of the youngest Witcher Master in nearly a hundred years..."

Vesemir's heart was bleeding. If it were just a few apprentices, he could have easily said he'd grabbed the wrong sword. But now, he had been put on the spot by everyone, from the castle spires of Kaer Morhen to the clouds that eternally floated above the Blue Mountains. Written in ornate script on the white clouds were the words: "The Youngest Witcher Master in a Hundred Years." He couldn't back down.

"Only if he can win," Vesemir retorted stubbornly. "He just went through the Trial of Grasses, hasn't learned any Signs, and is even facing a Drowner with a steel sword. If he can win even with that, what's wrong with giving him this sword?" The other Witchers didn't take Vesemir's promise seriously either. Drowners were the most common monsters, and each of them had killed no less than a hundred.

He naturally knew the difficulty of fighting with only a steel sword.

That apprentice couldn't possibly win!

In the apprentice training grounds, Ailin, who had just retorted, felt a little uneasy.

He had just spoken up out of habit.

But as things stood, From the Witcher Master's ashen face, it was clear he wouldn't accept any explanation until Ailin lost the fight.

From Vesemir, to the apprentices, and to the surrounding Witchers, everyone thought he would lose.

However, Ailin didn't think so.

As his focus sharpened, his spirit seemed to penetrate a certain aura around the monster.

In the corner of his vision.

The icon for the [Monster Hunting] skill flickered non-stop, its color gradually changing from white to red.

[Monster Hunting] Progress: 9%

Its webbed, sharp claws slapped the air, slashing directly towards Ailin's face.

A foul stench, like rotting mud, wafted over, making one nauseous.

Ailin stared intently at the Drowner's body, stepping back with his right foot, and bending down to dodge the Drowner's attacking right claw. Then, following his body's memory, he spun and slashed fiercely at the Drowner's back.

Seeing Ailin's fluid attack, Vesemir's displeasure lessened slightly. He commented to the apprentice beside him:

"That's right, spinning is the essence of the School of the Wolf swordsmanship. Imagine yourself as a whip; the rotation brings speed and power."

"Ailin's movements are very standard, it's just a shame..."

The apprentice who had just woken up didn't hear the rest. He rubbed his eyes and asked:

"A shame what?"

Vesemir glanced at the apprentice, ignoring him.

However, the apprentices no longer needed Vesemir's answer.

The sharp steel sword, carrying the force of rotation, struck the Drowner's back. The moment it connected, it was like cutting through greased, tough leather, leaving a shallow scratch before sliding up the monster's smooth back towards the sky.

"This sword strike feels strange," Ailin thought.

He felt the blade had indeed cut through something, not the monster's hide, but something invisible to the naked eye, which felt like gelatin when struck.

"It's Chaos Magic."

As if sensing Ailin's thoughts, Vesemir's voice came from behind him.

"Chaos Magic protects all creatures favored by It. Only silver, which symbolizes order, can bypass this protection."

Following that, Vesemir's tone softened slightly as he continued, "Since your swordsmanship is up to par, you can switch to a silver sword and fight again."

"What about the bet?" This was the Witcher Leto.

"Nonsense, of course not."

The Witcher Master rolled his eyes and glared at Leto irritably.

"I want to try again," Ailin replied.

Vesemir remained silent.

The surrounding Witchers also stopped their noisy discussions.

After a moment, a few even left the training grounds with a hint of disappointment.

Ailin didn't see these.

He was staring at the Drowner's slowly rising blue body.

However, Ailin could imagine what the onlookers were thinking: greed, overestimating oneself...

Indeed, under normal circumstances, he should have given up.

His attacks couldn't penetrate, and relying solely on brute force to wear down the monster, it was hard to say whether the monster would die of exhaustion first, or Ailin.

But the crucial point was, Ailin's situation was not normal.

On the surface, the previous strike had not only failed to inflict much damage but had also caused Ailin, who had used his full strength, to nearly lose his balance.

But in reality, [Monster Hunting] Progress: 63%

"Go, Ailin!"

The sleepyhead, who had been sleeping behind Ailin, shouted loudly at him.

His name was Huus, two years younger than Ailin, and he was the original body's only friend at Kaer Morhen.

Ailin merely nodded, remaining silent.

This was because the Drowner had lunged again.

Instead of retreating, Ailin advanced, stepping forward and quickly slashing again, still unable to pierce its defense.

But.

"Ding!"

[Monster Hunting] 100%

Time instantly froze at this moment, and everything around him turned into a still painting.

In the painting, the Drowner's whites were crisscrossed with bloodshot veins, and yellow saliva hung in threads from its bared fangs.

A red line suddenly appeared in the center.

A strong intuition guided Ailin to slash along this line.

And so, The sharp blade was like a child's paintbrush, following the red line, and simply drew a light stroke across this painting.

The Drowner's neck happened to be at the end of the red line at this moment.

It was as if the Drowner knew this painting was missing a certain pigment to be complete, and thus willingly offered itself.

"Splat."

The painting moved, and black, foul blood sprayed out from between the Drowner's body and head.

"Bang."

Ailin's exhausted body collapsed onto the headless corpse.

At the same time, a mechanical voice sounded in his ears.

"Ding."

[Monster "Drowner" Vanquished!]

[Reward Settlement: ...]

"Ailin!" Huus shouted anxiously.

"Vesemir! Quickly!"

Before the Witcher Leto could remind him, Vesemir had already rushed forward.

Then, he stopped about half a meter away from Ailin.

Watching Ailin slowly rise, and then glancing at the Drowner that was now headless, Vesemir looked somewhat incredulous:

"My apprentice... actually won."

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