Witcher

Roy woke from his straw mat that morning.

After a whole month, he once again saw the "+" sign after his personal level: Level 1 (503/500). Nearly 500 experience points were the result of his recent unceasing battles, and they had even gifted him a pair of dark circles, though he hadn't managed to grind out a ranged weapon skill.

Still, he was immensely satisfied.

Besides that, his three weaker attributes had also improved, though not by as much as last month: Strength 4.2→4.3, Constitution 4.1→4.2, Willpower 4.5→4.6.

Agility, Charisma, Spirit, and Perception had remained unchanged. This made him realize that once an attribute exceeded 5, it couldn't grow naturally without targeted training or other factors.

The Slaughter skill remained at LV2. Clearly, the more than forty animals he'd killed this month hadn't been enough to level it up.

Roy focused his thoughts on the experience bar. The words on the panel abruptly shifted and became—

Personal Level: Level 2 (3/1000)

You have gained 1 Attribute Point and 1 Skill Point.

As usual, he added the attribute point to Perception. After that wonderful feeling of everything being within his grasp descended upon him, Perception rose from 6→7, becoming his highest attribute. At the same time, a new notification appeared on the panel.

You have unlocked a new skill.

Unnamed LV1: Your Perception far exceeds that of ordinary people, evolving into a brand-new sense. Through a special method of Observation, you can obtain basic information about a target. The higher the target's Perception, the greater their suppression over you and the less information you can obtain. LV1 grants you a 1-point Perception bonus while Observing.

Roy froze for a moment. Raising an attribute to a certain level could automatically grant a skill? That was something he'd never expected, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

The new skill held enormous strategic value. If he could discreetly observe the basic attributes and abilities of hostile creatures in advance, wouldn't he be able to prepare countermeasures and formulate a battle plan ahead of time? After all, the higher his Perception was, the farther he could see, and the better concealed his position would be.

Excitement welled up inside him, and a scene involuntarily surfaced in his mind—himself hiding over a thousand feet away, quietly observing an enemy's weaknesses in the distance while pulling out a ranged weapon from his inventory.

Heh... With a thought from Roy, the skill's name changed to "Observation."

He had no immediate use for the skill point. He planned to find a test subject and experience the new skill first, then decide whether to add it to Slaughter LV2 or Observation LV1.

The Night Watchman and Old Jack would make excellent targets.

Roy greeted Old Mol and his wife, then hurried out the door in high spirits.

After taking only a few steps, he was surprised to find that the streets were unusually crowded today. Dozens of men, women, old people, and children had gathered around the notice board in the center of the village, noisily chattering away.

The terrifying shadow left behind by the Grave Witch had been swept away.

Roy's heart stirred, and he moved closer.

"The Witchers are here! Kaye Village is saved!"

Within the disorderly crowd stood three travel-worn figures. Their distinctive appearances and attire left a deep impression.

The man standing to the left of the notice board wore a red headband around his forehead. His face was cold, his features sharply chiseled. The man to his right had half his face hidden beneath a gray hood, deep lines beside his cheeks, and a faint smile at the corners of his mouth. His features vaguely resembled those of the headbanded man, and the two were probably related by blood. Both stood around six feet tall.

The last man had a gleaming bald head, a high bridge of the nose, deeply set eyes, and a stiff, stern expression. He was broad-backed and powerfully built, his massive muscles as clearly defined as rocks. He stood over six feet four inches tall, and merely standing there with his arms folded across his chest gave off an overwhelming pressure that made people feel suffocated.

All three wore black leather armor covered in mottled scratches and faint traces of dried blood.

A fist-sized leather pouch hung at each of their waists. Small glass bottles could be seen on potion belts slung over their shoulders. A pair of short swords crossed over their chests, while several finger-length throwing knives were pinned to the leather plates on their thighs.

Around each of their necks hung an unusually shaped pendant—a coiled viper forming an intricate and mysterious pattern.

The swords on their backs lay in plain black scabbards, their blades nearly four feet four inches long.

Most striking of all were their amber, feline pupils—strange and frightening.

Roy stared at the bald giant leading them, feeling as though he had seen the man somewhere before. His gaze instantly turned dark and profound.

A semi-transparent information panel appeared above the bald man's head with astonishing clarity.

Letho

Gender: Male

Age: 80

Identity: School of the Viper Witcher

He underwent three mutations as a child and survived the Trial of the Grasses, gaining speed, strength, reflexes, coordination, vitality, and recovery abilities far beyond those of ordinary people.

He received professional training in swordsmanship, Alchemy, Monster knowledge, and more.

His immune system is exceptionally powerful. He is immune to most plagues and diseases and can resist toxins lethal to ordinary people.

He has mastered spell-like Witcher Signs and possesses a long lifespan, but due to genetic mutation, he is reproductively isolated from ordinary humans.)

Health: ?? (Insufficient Perception. Unable to obtain.)

Mana: ??

Strength: ?

Agility: ?

Constitution: ?

Perception: 19

Willpower: 10

Charisma: 6

Spirit: 10

Skills:

Alchemy ?? (Insufficient Perception. Unable to obtain specific level.): A crafting discipline encompassing sword oils, potions, decoctions, special poisons, magical bombs, and more.

Witcher Senses ??: After the Trial of the Grasses, a Witcher's organs undergo mutation, granting Perception unique enhancement. The five senses and intuition produce a linked effect, allowing them to "see" smells and sounds and track traces imperceptible to ordinary people.

Meditation ??: A discipline of body and mind. By entering a meditative state, one regulates body and mind, accelerating the recovery of injuries, Mana, and stamina. It also slowly improves coordination and increases affinity with Chaos Energy.

Viper School Dual-Sword Style ??: A secret swordsmanship created by School of the Viper Witchers over hundreds of years, using short swords in both hands to battle powerful creatures such as Monsters.

Witcher Signs ??: After mutation, Witchers, who were originally insensitive to Chaos Energy, successfully awaken simple spell-like abilities. Signs are a Witcher's core ability: no incantations or casting materials are required; they use a one-handed gesture to guide Mana within their bodies and release a Sign.

Signs include five types:

Quen: Creates an energy shield around the body to block damage.

Aard: Unleashes a powerful blast of air capable of effectively destroying obstacles and knocking enemies away.

Igni: Fires a cone of flame from the palm to burn the target.

Yrden: Summons a circular binding magic array that reduces the speed and reaction of anyone entering it other than the caster. It is extremely effective against wraith-like Monsters capable of Phasing.

Axii: Uses mental power to hypnotize and impose psychological suggestions, controlling thoughts and actions.

The power of Signs is jointly influenced by Spirit and skill level.

...

Others ???

Hiss—

Roy was utterly shocked after reading it.

So this is a Witcher? His physical abilities and skills are absurdly overpowered.

And he's an eighty-year-old man?

This eighty-year-old Witcher, Letho, looked only around thirty. Beneath his close-fitting, thin leather armor was a strong and vigorous body, his abundant vitality practically radiating outward.

There were still many attributes and skills Roy couldn't uncover due to insufficient Perception. He even suspected the man was a monster wearing human skin.

Witchers truly lived up to their reputation. No matter how many he had seen in games, it was nowhere near as shocking as witnessing one in person.

A bald Letho, the School of the Viper, and two companions who looked remarkably alike.

At that moment, the information Roy had previously learned raced through his mind. He suddenly realized that these three Witchers before him were the king-slayer trio who would assassinate the rulers of Aedirn, Temeria, and Kaedwen several years later—the assassins of the School of the Viper.

Why had they entered the Northern Kingdoms instead of remaining at Nilfgaard's southern stronghold?

The bald giant's calm, stagnant gaze swept over everyone before he spoke. His voice was deep, magnetic, and full of vigor. "I'm Letho, a School of the Viper Witcher. These two are my companions, Cerret and Oakes. We'll accept the commission, but we need more detailed information to determine the amount of the fee."

Upon hearing the Witcher's introduction, the white-haired village chief let out a breath of relief.

"Good, the School of the Viper. As long as you're not from the School of the Cat!" A trace of relief flashed across the village chief's face. He seemed to have some unpleasant memories involving School of the Cat Witchers.

Just as he was about to speak, a small, thin figure suddenly emerged from the crowd and walked straight up to the Witchers.

"I've seen that monster. I'll explain it to you!"

It was, of course, Roy!

The three Witchers followed him to the Old Captain Tavern. After ordering several drinks, they listened as the three survivors of the monster's claws—Roy, Old Jack, and Thompson—recounted what had happened that night.

"Grave Witch." The bald giant rapidly reached his conclusion. "That thing is worth at least one hundred Crowns. Roy, right? Go notify the village chief to prepare the reward. We'll set out today at noon, when the sunlight is strongest. If nothing goes wrong," he said, pointing a carrot-thick finger at the grandfather clock in the corner, "we'll return with the trophy before three in the afternoon."

Letho's rugged face showed no emotion, as though he were describing something utterly trivial. Yet Roy knew that some unfortunate Witchers became permanently poker-faced after the Trial of the Grasses, unable to display lively expressions again. Deep down, however, their emotions remained just as delicate and sensitive as anyone else's.

Otherwise, there wouldn't be a proud yet sentimental Geralt.

Perhaps because Roy had stared at them for too long, Cerret, the hottest-tempered of the three, asked coldly, "Kid, never seen a Witcher before? Think we're disgusting? Terrifying?"

"No, no. Quite the opposite. I think you're trustworthy..." Roy looked sincerely into his amber eyes, making no attempt to hide the goodwill in his voice.

He had played as a Witcher. It had been an all-consuming virtual experience, and he had done extensive additional research for it. He could practically be said to know this special group inside and out.

In a sense, Witchers were a pitiful group. They were either war orphans adopted by a school from childhood, or children handed over by their parents as payment under the Law of Surprise.

After entering the isolated Witcher schools, they had no happy childhoods. Their time was consumed by all kinds of brutal training, and they still had to survive the terrifyingly lethal Trial of the Grasses before earning the chance to see the outside world.

They accepted commissions from ordinary people, risked their lives to kill Monsters, and earned the rewards they needed to survive. Yet because of their unusual appearances and extraordinary combat ability, they were shunned by the mundane world.

In truth, aside from School of the Cat Witchers and the very few who slaughtered innocents, the vast majority of Witchers had excellent reputations. But the warmth ordinary people offered them was still pitifully scarce.

Witchers could only huddle together with their own kind for warmth, licking one another's wounds. Once healed, they would continue slaughtering Monsters until death carried them away. Not one could die peacefully of old age.

This group was steeped in legend and burdened by a cursed, tragic fate.

Roy said sincerely, "A Witcher's work has saved countless innocent people from Monsters. That's far more just than those soldiers who take money but refuse to do their jobs properly."

"Heh..." Cerret seemed to have heard something amusing. A stiff smile appeared on his face, but mockery showed in his eyes. "It's been a long time since I've heard praise like that from someone."

"Quit talking nonsense, kid. Say what's really on your mind!"

Roy's expression turned serious as he stated his request. "At noon, I want to go with the three of you."

"That's impossible!" Cerret rose to his feet and flatly refused. "Hunting Monsters isn't a game. We don't have the energy to babysit you!"

"Please listen," Roy said, making his expression as earnest as possible. "My friend and the teacher who taught me how to make a living were both killed by that bastard. I dream of killing it with my own hands! I think... you can understand that feeling, can't you?"

"No, little friend... you're mistaken. Witchers don't have feelings." Cerret exchanged a glance with his two companions and still rejected him coldly.

Jack, who had been silent for a long time, couldn't help cutting in. "Gentlemen, don't let Roy's age fool you. He's very accurate with a hand crossbow. Take him to the cemetery; he only needs to stay far away and use it when the time is right."

"If that's too much trouble, then besides the fee promised by the village chief, I'll offer another fifty Crowns. How about it?"

Roy gave Old Jack a surprised look. He hadn't expected the man not only to refrain from stopping him, but to help him instead. Fifty Crowns was no small sum.

Seizing the chance, he hurriedly gave the Witchers a solemn promise. "I absolutely won't get in your way. I only need to watch from a distance and wait for your instructions!"

"A ten-year-old brat, an ordinary person—what exactly gives you the courage to face a Monster?"

The bald giant Letho looked deeply into him with amber eyes, as though he wanted to see through his entirely. For no reason at all, Roy felt a surge of guilt.

"Considering the fifty Crowns, we'll agree to your request."