Arwen stepped onto the Comb.
Cold wind howled past his ears.
He did not sprint straight away. Instead, he studied the staggered wooden posts with his cat eyes, muttering to himself.
"Nine posts on the left, eleven on the right, and the distances between them all vary..."
Suddenly, his cat eyes flashed, as though something had occurred to him.
He had not noticed it from below, but now, looking down from above, the seemingly haphazard arrangement gradually connected into a single line.
"This seems to match the footwork of the School of the Wolf's witcher swordsmanship."
"Yes, yes, it's exactly the same!"
Delighted, Arwen adjusted his breathing and leaned slightly forward.
His rear foot pushed off sharply, sending him surging forward.
Following his memories of last night's training, he landed each step precisely on the next wooden post.
The windmill dummy drew closer and closer. [Dual Souls] activated.
His cat eyes narrowed, his concentration reaching its limit. The dummy's claws began to slow, their paths gradually becoming visible.
There! An opening!
Arwen aimed at the magic stone in the dummy's chest and thrust.
Pop!
The sword's edge struck the magic stone's surface, sending out a ripple.
Clack, clack, clack!
A series of mechanical noises came from the windmill dummy. The wooden rods on its body shook a few times before catches locked them in place.
Vesemir stopped the timer.
"Eighteen seconds."
At those words, every apprentice present froze, staring at Arwen in astonishment.
"Eighteen seconds? Eleven seconds faster than Aiken? Am I seeing things?"
"My gods, when did Arwen get this good?"
"Yeah, and yesterday he killed one-no, five drowners. Unbelievable."
Paul rubbed his eyes and cried out excitedly, "Arwen, well done!"
Aiken, who had been so full of himself a moment earlier, also widened his eyes at the result. His lips moved, but he did not know what to say.
Arwen was just about to put away his sword when a fierce gust suddenly swept toward him, making his hair stand on end.
The stationary windmill dummy abruptly started moving. Its magic stone glowed scarlet, and its wooden claws lashed out.
Arwen hurriedly retreated, dodging the blow.
Whoosh!
A fierce wind howled.
No, that's wrong!
Alarm bells rang in Arwen's mind, and Geralt's words from last night surfaced.
Block! After dodging, you have to block!
He raised his sword.
Thud!
Arwen swayed as a pinewood pendulum slammed into his blade, sending him stumbling. In a panic, he jumped onto a post to his left.
The powerful sensation of empty air beneath his rear foot sent his heart racing like a runaway horse.
Looking down, he saw that half his foot was already beyond the outer wall.
Much of the mist shrouding the valley had dispersed, revealing the precipitous cliff and its immense drop.
He even glimpsed a skeleton caught in the branches of a tree on the cliff face.
"Was that a pendulum?"
"Master Vesemir, Arwen nearly fell!"
Paul shouted in alarm, and Horton and the others hurriedly turned toward Vesemir as well.
But Vesemir looked perfectly calm.
At some point, the timer in his left hand had been replaced with a wooden mechanism fitted with a button.
Directly above the mechanism stood the tower.
The pendulum that had just swung down had come from there, suspended on a chain.
Pendulum training!
Vesemir shouted to Arwen, "Don't just stand there! Move!"
"Block, just like you did!"
At his voice, Arwen jumped and turned, using his sword to deflect the swiftly returning pendulum.
"Good, just like that! Block, then strike!"
After shouting those instructions, Vesemir turned to the white-haired young man beside him.
"Geralt, you taught him real swordsmanship?"
Geralt nodded. "According to the witcher's code, his apprentice swordsmanship met the requirements for learning it."
"You boy..." There was no blame in Vesemir's voice. "Remember to let me know beforehand next time."
Geralt watched Arwen dodging back and forth on the Comb, the corners of his mouth lifting.
Vesemir carefully studied Arwen's footwork.
"When did you teach him?"
"Last night. It took him about three hours to grasp the basics."
"Three hours. That's very good."
Delight flashed through Vesemir's cat eyes.
Geniuses were rare. He did not expect every apprentice to be a once-in-a-century genius like Geralt.
"With talent like that, one pendulum probably isn't enough. Geralt, what do you say we make things a little harder for him?"
"Of course," Geralt said. "I believe in him."
With that answer, Vesemir pressed the mechanism's button with his thumb.
Whoosh!
Amid the apprentices' startled cries, a second pendulum emerged from the tower's conveyor, hanging from a chain, and swung toward Arwen.
Arwen focused intensely and spun, letting the pendulum whistle past.
Rrrip!
A fierce burning sensation spread across his back.
He had only barely dodged that swing, and the pendulum had still scraped his back raw.
"Witchers don't face just one enemy. Underestimating your opponents and letting your guard down will only get you killed."
Vesemir's voice reached him.
Arwen's cat eyes darted rapidly, tracking the paths of both pendulums.
He raised his sword to block, turned forward, then swung hard, deflecting the second pendulum as it came at him.
He closed in on the windmill dummy.
Vesemir decisively pressed the mechanism again.
A third pendulum swung into action.
Arwen's pupils widened in alarm.
This time, the pendulum came not from either side, but straight ahead.
He was forced to retreat, stepping onto a post to his right to avoid the frontal attack.
But the sudden disruption to his rhythm allowed a pendulum to slam into his side.
"Ugh..."
Pain shot through Arwen. He lost his balance and nearly fell off the Comb.
The apprentices' cat eyes widened, one after another.
"Plague above, a third pendulum! Gods!"
"You bastard, block with your sword! Hit that damned dummy!"
Paul waved his sword, cheering Arwen on, believing he could work a miracle.
Aiken, meanwhile, furrowed his brows and clenched his fists. Shaking his head slightly, he muttered.
"A third pendulum? How... how is that possible?"
"No, I don't believe it. He'll fall any moment now, land in the haystack beneath the wall, and spend days in bed."
Watching the swaying figure beset by three pendulums on the posts, Geralt began to feel uneasy.
He drew his training sword and started toward Arwen.
But Vesemir moved first, stepping into his path.
His cat eyes were stern in his pale face.
"No, Geralt. Wait a little longer. He hasn't reached his limit yet."
Geralt's cat eyes remained fixed on Arwen atop the Comb.
If there was any chance of a pendulum knocking him over the outer wall and down the cliff, he would rush to save him immediately.
Little did he know that he was not the only one thinking that. Vesemir's right hand was already resting on his sword hilt.
"Arwen!"
"Witchers don't just rely on their cat eyes! They have other senses!"
"Use your hearing! Even the feel of the wind against your skin can help you avoid danger!"
Vesemir's voice thundered in his ears.
Arwen kept dodging and shifting position. Only after taking several more hits from the pendulums did he finally manage to find a moment to breathe.
Use my other senses.
Arwen forced himself to calm down. Thinking over Vesemir's words, he slowly closed his eyes.
The sound of the wind, the air currents stirred by the pendulums-his sensations grew ever stronger.
"You stupid bastard! I told you to use your other senses, not close your eyes!"
Vesemir burst out cursing.
Arwen's eyes snapped open, and he stepped forward.