Slaughter

"Air, water, earth, fire—they circle around you... then eventually leave you? Just as I expected. You're an ordinary person."

"An ordinary person..."

The words kept echoing in Roy's ears. He sighed. "As the son of a farmer, I was bound to be an ordinary person."

"I wasn't sent to a Witcher by the Law of Surprise to become a Child of Surprise, and I don't have a quarter-elf's blood or an exceptional talent for magic. If I want to make a place for myself in this world, I can only rely on my own efforts."

At that moment, he felt a little more certain about becoming a Witcher.

Besides, after meditating on his own for the first time, a new prompt appeared in his template:

You have successfully unlocked a new skill:

Meditation LV1: A practice of body and mind. By entering a meditative state, you can regulate your body and mind, accelerating the recovery of injuries, Magicka, and stamina. It also slowly improves coordination and increases your affinity for Chaos Energy.

Note: Each time this skill increases in level, it permanently enhances your physical and mental attributes.

Roy's mouth fell open slightly. This was the first time he'd seen a skill that could improve his attributes.

He had to admit, he was tempted. He wanted nothing more than to level up right away and put a point into the skill. But that was only wishful thinking. He quickly calmed down. Without unlocking Magicka, he couldn't cast a Witcher Sign. No matter how much he improved his mental attributes, which affected the power of spells, it would be meaningless...

Letho had been quietly observing him from the side. His keen senses quickly picked up that something about Roy seemed to have changed, though it was hard to say exactly what.

"What a secretive little brat. But he belongs to the Viper School now. His secrets will eventually belong to the School, too, and become a force for its revival."

The next morning, the two of them and their horse left the wilderness and set off along the narrow track leading to Edessberg.

Wheel ruts and hoofprints were scattered all along the track. Dense woods flanked either side, their branches and leaves rustling in the morning breeze and carrying the fresh scent of earth and plants.

The wind picked up. As if he'd received some kind of signal, the big man suddenly stopped and pulled on the reins. He crouched, running his fingers over the marks on the ground, then looked up at the empty road ahead. A note of wariness flashed in his amber eyes.

"Roy, get your crossbow ready. We're going to fight!"

Everything had been peaceful until now. Why had trouble cropped up on the final stretch?

Roy pressed down on the bowstring made of ox sinew, swiftly drawing it back and nocking a bolt. He felt little unease. Perhaps it was thanks to Meditation, or perhaps the towering figure ahead of him gave him confidence.

They continued onward. Roy quietly pricked up his ears, his body gradually tensing.

They'd gone barely two hundred feet when Letho stopped again. A gust of wind whipped the black cloth over his shoulder high behind him.

"Wheee!"

A piercing whistle cut through the woods. Almost at the same moment, a group of men in ragged clothes and with sallow faces charged out of the grass on either side.

Farmers, or some kind of ragtag militia?

Their clothes were in tatters, and they looked utterly disreputable. Even their weapons were laughable: iron shovels, hammers, and even pitchforks.

They formed no proper ranks, shouting all manner of nonsense as they swarmed around the two men and their horse. Their faces were twisted with the ferocity of the desperately hungry.

Then a middle-aged man stepped forward. He wore a green leather cap, a yellow jacket, and black trousers, and had a mole on his face.

He stood tall and puffed out his chest, strutting like a rooster showing off its plumage.

"Drop your weapons and get on the ground!" he ordered.

Following his training, Roy gripped the crossbow in both hands and silently counted. There were about thirteen of them surrounding the pair.

The big man acted as if he hadn't heard a word. With his arms folded across his chest, he asked calmly, "A rebel army of farmers, and you've taken up robbery?"

Roy considered this. A rebel army of farmers? They were more like a Revolutionary Army, weren't they? He'd heard rumors about them back in Kaye Village. Was there a peasant revolution underway in Edusburg? Could these be the men? Why did they seem so worked up?

"Bullshit! Who are you calling robbers? That's slander!" The leader's face turned red as he shouted righteously, "We're fighting for the great revolution, to overthrow the tyranny of Demavend and Tavik! This is a just cause. If you're on the side of justice, then put down your weapons and give up your property to support our righteous struggle. If you resist, you're executioners in league with the tyrants. Accept the Revolutionary Army's judgment like good little boys!"

Roy's cheek twitched. He'd never seen anyone so shameless, calling robbery a righteous cause and turning people who fought back in self-defense into villains.

Only people from the west could be so brazen.

Letho frowned. In his long memory, very few people had dared to rob a Witcher.

In the past, he'd have charged in without a second thought. But now he had someone with him, and slaughtering them all outright didn't seem quite right.

Letho gripped the medallion around his neck and showed it to everyone before him.

"Do you know what this is?"

Greed flashed in the leader's eyes. "Is it silver? Throw it over here!"

"Boss, h-he's a Witcher!" A gaunt farmer with a long chin suddenly pointed at Letho, terror spreading across his face as he stammered.

"What? That freak's a mutant?!"

"Look at his eyes! Amber, like a cat's!" At those words, the farmers all took a step back. Roy's eye twitched. He hadn't realized the word Witcher carried such weight.

"Boss, Witchers can kill monsters. We're no match for him!" another farmer said, trembling.

"What are you afraid of?" The leader's face reddened as he roared at his cowardly followers. "There's only one Witcher and one kid!"

"There are so many of us! What have we got to fear?!" The leader retreated a couple of steps, trying to sound bold. "All of us, attack! They haven't got three heads and six arms. If we each take a shot at them, we'll punch them full of holes!"

"Yeah! What are we afraid of?!" The farmers seemed to have found their courage again. They raised their hammers, pitchforks, and shovels and pointed them at the two men in the circle, but none of them struck first.

"I'll say it one last time. Drop your weapons!"

"And then let you butcher us?" Letho lowered his face and shook his head. Seeing this, Roy slowly moved behind him. He wasn't a Witcher; for his own safety, it was better to let the big man take the lead.

"I can smell the blood of their victims all over them. You've killed plenty of people while robbing them, haven't you?" Letho said gravely, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"You bastard! They resisted, so they got what they deserved!" The leader continued making excuses. "For the great revolution, sacrifices are sometimes necessary!"

Letho finally fell silent. His right hand moved like a snake, fingers nimble as he traced a Sign before anyone could react.

A triangular flash of red light shot into the leader's eyes.

A terrible scream rang out. One farmer clutched his belly and staggered backward, his face full of disbelief.

Across from him, the leader in the green leather cap stood with a bloodied sword in his hand. His eyes were blank, and he moved like a puppet.

"Ah... the Witcher's controlling the boss!"

"The boss killed Rill!"

As the farmers stared in horror, Letho slowly drew the steel sword from his back instead of his customary pair of short swords.

The broad blade gleamed with a cold light.

Like a merciless predator, the Witcher leaped forward and plunged into the flock!

The clumsy farmers before him couldn't match Letho in strength, reflexes, combat skill, or experience—not even by a fraction. Letho became a human meat grinder. Broken arms and legs, chunks of flesh, and sprays of blood painted Roy's vision red wherever he went.

On the narrow path through the woods,

every flash of his sword brought a cry and took a life.

The terrified farmers fled for their lives, but how could they outrun a Witcher of the School of the Viper, renowned for his agility? Cries and pleas for mercy rose from the woods, one after another without end.

Roy froze. He'd killed plenty of animals, but they'd all been livestock or beasts. He'd never killed a person.

Now a group of people were being slaughtered one after another, unable to fight back. No matter how much the farmers suffered and despaired, no matter how loudly they wailed, Letho remained unmoved, his face cold as he stubbornly swung his steel sword.

He hadn't used a potion or a Sign. He was relying purely on instinct.

Was this really the man who'd patiently taught him herbalism and crossbow skills, and hypnotized him into meditating every night?

Perhaps this was how Witchers acted... They hunted down monsters that terrorized the land, and showed no mercy to certain humans either.

Roy raised his crossbow and began to draw deep breaths. He planted his feet apart and held his arms steady, taking up the standard standing position for crossbow shooting just as he'd practiced hundreds of times.

A lucky survivor had managed to dodge Letho. Blood covered his face, and his expression was half desperation, half hope as he charged toward Roy.

"Grab him! Grab the kid! We can use him to threaten the Witcher and get out alive!"

He leaned heavily to one side, almost toppling over as he struggled to keep his balance. His other hand trembled as he reached out, stretching toward the boy as if to grab him by the throat.

One step, two steps, and he'd have him!

"Whoosh!"

A piercing sound cut through the air. The farmer was struck head-on by a battering ram. His whole body jerked backward, then his head tipped up and his arms spread wide. He crumpled and fell backward onto the ground.

A crossbow bolt with a feathered tail had pierced his skull, between his bulging eyes.

Gained 20 Experience Points, LV2 (300/1000)

Roy let out the half breath he'd been holding, then inhaled again. He worked quickly to draw the string and nock another bolt, aiming at the other side.

Ten minutes later, the merciless slaughter was over.

Letho took out a piece of blue cloth and slowly wiped the blood from his steel sword.

Roy sat beside him, his face blank. Blood still stained his black hair and the front of his clothes.

"Phew..." After an unknown stretch of time, he suddenly let out a deep breath.

Letho said coolly, "Do you understand now? This is the state of the world. There's no right or wrong. If we don't wipe them out and even one escapes back to Edessberg, the rest of our journey will be difficult."

Seeing Roy still staring blankly into space, he sighed.

"I could smell human blood all over them. They weren't decent folk. They'd done plenty of robbing and killing. Do you feel any better now?"

"I'm fine. I'm just a little unaccustomed to it," Roy said sincerely. He didn't feel the slightest pity for them. Otherwise, who would feel sorry for the innocent souls they'd killed?

Letho praised him.

"Also, those shots of yours were good. You remembered what I taught you."

Roy had killed three wounded farmers who'd tried to flee.

He'd remembered the breathing rhythm for firing and pulled the trigger just as his exhale began to deepen. His aim had been steady, and his three bolts had taken three lives.

He could have killed more, but in the end he'd hesitated. It was his first time killing people, and he couldn't yet be as hard-hearted as Letho.

One life was worth 20 Experience Points, the same as a Drowner. After three kills, his Experience Points had risen to 340/1000.

Roy suddenly found it all absurd. In a way, everyone was equal to the template; they were all just cold data.

Soon, the two men moved the attackers' corpses into a large pit in the woods. Then Letho poured a little dog fat over them and used the Igni Sign to set them alight, burning them to charcoal.

They didn't want the bodies to spread disease or attract Ghouls.

Letho also pocketed all the robbers' ill-gotten gains, which came to nearly 100 Crowns.

The money and Experience Points he'd gained from the slaughter were beyond anything he'd expected. But Roy didn't want there to be a next time.

"Kid, including the Drowner's brain, you've earned about half." To his surprise, the Witcher gave Roy 50 Crowns.

"Third lesson: spoils must be divided fairly," Letho said solemnly. "When you become a Witcher, if you don't want to turn against your partner, never let greed blind you."

Roy had been about to refuse, but an inexplicable sense of foreboding came over him. It seemed Letho had another reason for giving him the money.