Avoiding Vesemir's complicated gaze.
Ailin pretended not to notice anything and lowered his head to study the patterns on Elsa's scabbard.
He looked so serious, as if the patterns concealed the ultimate truths of all things.
Vesemir shifted his gaze back and looked at the future of the School of the Wolf with a headache.
Platinum, dark red, emerald green.
Three pairs of round Cat Eyes were fixed on Vesemir's face.
The school never said I had to pay out of pocket to teach apprentices, did it? Vesemir thought.
The odds of another apprentice capable of killing a drowner with a steel sword were practically zero.
But what if?
He did not have a second Elsa.
As for tearing up the agreement?
Even witchers of the School of the Cat would not stoop so low!
Before he could think of a solution, the chief spoke up.
"All right!"
"As long as you kill a drowner with a steel sword, my silver sword will be yours."
"But there's only one sword," Huus asked innocently. "There are three of us."
The chief smiled. "Of course, whoever kills one first gets it."
Huus was about to ask another question.
But the other apprentices had already rushed forward to crowd around Vesemir.
Vesemir sighed in relief, nodded gratefully at the chief, and promptly arranged the order.
If the chief had not stepped in, he would have nearly drawn Leto's silver sword.
With the farce over, the practical lesson got back on track.
Seeing that everyone's attention was on the training ground, Ailin sighed in relief and silently recited in his heart.
"Panel."
A translucent panel unfolded, and a long list of system messages came into view.
Looking at the detailed scoring rules for the reward settlement, Ailin suddenly felt as though he had returned to his previous life, checking the results after clearing a game dungeon.
Materials, Experience Orbs, and chests. It looked like a third-rate game, all right.
Thinking back to Blue Star, Ailin sighed.
Life as an office drone had been exhausting, but at least it had been safe.
In the world of witchers, who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Monsters?
Sorceresses?
Or a pitchfork stabbing him from behind?
Ailin shuddered, composed himself, and turned his attention back to the panel.
Although he did not know how the Witcher's Handbook determined a drowner's level, the reward settlement gave him a rough idea.
He could more or less judge how a "monster hunt" was evaluated.
First, a basic rating was assigned based on whether the monster was killed.
Then, bonus points were added according to the difference between the monster's level and Ailin's, the method of killing it, and the completion of the task.
The number of final spoils depended on how high the rating was.
However...
Drowner Heart Essence Fluid?
What was this thing for?
Use "Drowner Heart Essence Fluid"?
A prompt box popped up along with Ailin's thoughts.
Ailin:?
It could be used directly?
With some hesitation, Ailin thought for a few seconds before choosing to use it.
In an instant, icy liquid flowed down his throat and through his esophagus.
A warm current surged from his stomach and spread through his veins to every corner of his body.
The fatigue from fighting the drowner vanished in an instant.
His body felt as though it had returned to its state before the battle.
No.
It felt even better than before the battle.
He opened his character panel with a thought.
Name: Ailin Age: 13 Title: Child of Miracle Level: 1 Health: 94% Stamina: 54/54 Attributes: Strength 5.2 (+0.1), Agility 5.3, Constitution 5.4 (+0.2), Perception 6.9, Mystery 3.1 Special Skills: Monster Hunt LV1, Appraisal LV1 Skill: School of the Wolf Two-Handed Sword LV1 (0/100) Evaluation: Trash!!!
Hmm!!!
Both his Strength and Constitution had increased!
Ailin took another careful look and confirmed that the increases to his Strength and Constitution were not an illusion.
Although the increase was only 0.3, drowners were the most common monsters in this world.
No matter which school they belonged to, the first commission accepted by ninety percent of witchers involved these ugly creatures.
One drowner increased his attributes by 0.3 points. Ten would increase them by three points.
And there were far more than thousands upon thousands of drowners in this world.
If he killed twenty or thirty drowners, would the trial still be difficult?
Thinking of the Trial of the Mountains, Ailin felt as if a basin of cold water had been poured over him and quickly calmed down.
What use did it matter if there were countless drowners in the world when he was an apprentice who could not leave Kaer Morhen?
Still...
The tangible increase in his attributes let Ailin see a glimmer of hope beneath the deathly threat of the Trial of the Mountains.
He continued reading.
Ailin discovered that the School of the Wolf Two-Handed Sword had not gained a single point of experience.
Was it because he had used the skill for too short a time, or could it only be improved with Lesser Experience Orbs?
The Witcher's Handbook did not respond.
Seeing that, he reconsidered.
That makes sense. The original owner trained with a two-handed sword for nearly ten years before reaching LV1.
How could such a brief moment possibly make any difference?
After thinking for a moment, Ailin did not dwell on it and continued sorting through his gains.
After using ten Lesser Experience Orbs in succession, the School of the Wolf Two-Handed Sword directly rose by one level.
The muscles throughout his body twitched slightly, and some new knowledge appeared in his mind.
In a daze.
Ailin felt as though he had trained in swordsmanship for two years under the guidance of a Witcher Master, followed by another year of real combat.
His full-body coordination and efficiency in using his strength had both improved considerably.
At the same time, his character level on the panel also rose by one.
"Aah!"
A miserable scream interrupted Ailin's reverie.
Ailin looked up.
Not far away, a steel sword lay quietly on the ground.
The first apprentice had been defeated.
Leto, expressionless, carried him toward Ailin.
The apprentice's dirt-stained face was full of unwillingness and disbelief.
His right arm hung limply at his side. It had probably been dislocated.
"Ailin," Huus asked nervously while picking at small stones on the ground, his voice uncertain, "how did you do it before?"
Ailin was about to brush him off when Vesemir called out a name.
"Next, Bont."
Following the sound, Ailin discovered that Vesemir was toying with the drowner.
He truly was toying with it.
His steel sword had not even left its sheath. Relying solely on his footwork, Vesemir dodged the drowner's attacks while steadily keeping the monster's attention on himself.
Worthy of a Witcher Master.
Ailin thought.
Then inspiration struck, and he cast Appraisal on Vesemir.
Name: Vesemir Attributes: Strength 46, Agility 57, Constitution 65, Perception 70, Mystery 41
What kind of monster was this, to be this terrifying?
Ailin could not help drawing a sharp breath.
Even Vesemir's lowest attribute, Strength, was 46—nine times Ailin's.
After all, although "Ailin" was only thirteen, his physical condition after the Trial of Grasses had certainly reached the level of an ordinary person from Ailin's previous life. In fact, he was much stronger in every respect than Ailin's former body, which had often been worn down by overtime and drinking.
Still stunned, Ailin swept several other witchers with the skill.
Name: Leto Attributes: Strength 28, Agility 34, Constitution 57, Perception 61, Mystery 15
The attributes of adult witchers were all roughly similar to Leto's.
Even the weakest had Strength above twenty.
Were witchers in the game really this strong? Ailin fell into deep thought.
With attributes this high, how could any witcher be killed by a farmer's pitchfork?
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