Arwen walked down the spiral staircase toward the hall on the ground floor.
"Viris..."
He kept murmuring the name inwardly. He had played all three Witcher games, but he really couldn't recall a sorceress named Viris.
One reason was that Western names were simply too complicated for him.
Another was that sorceresses like Yennefer and Triss had shone so brightly in the games that they overshadowed everyone else.
At that thought, he couldn't help looking forward to meeting those two sorceresses for the first time.
If I remember the timeline correctly, Yennefer was born in 1173. She might be in Vengerberg right now.
1173... It's 1228 now, and Geralt should be about eighteen by the end of this year. Thinking about it that way, they're almost forty years apart. Does that count as robbing the cradle?
Arwen shook his head with a chuckle. As for Triss, she's probably still a little brat studying at a magic academy.
Lost in thought, he walked out of the corridor and arrived beside the kitchen.
A serving of bread, scrambled eggs, and sausage sat on the long wooden table.
But there was no sign of the witchers or the apprentices.
Arwen glanced back at the enormous hole in Kaer Morhen behind him.
The sun rose and the moon set, and starlight spilled inside like gauzy mist.
Arwen sat down, his stomach already growling with hunger. He quickly finished his dinner, cleared away his dishes, and returned to the apprentices' room.
Just as he reached the door, he heard the apprentices making a racket inside.
Arwen swept his cat eyes across the room.
Aiken stood in the aisle in a coarse linen shirt, a wooden sword in hand and his green cat eyes sparkling.
Paul and the other three sat on their beds, applying medicine to one another as they chattered away.
"Aiken, do it again!"
"Your footwork was too fast just now. I couldn't even see it clearly."
"Yeah, exactly."
"Damn it, how do you swing your sword while spinning? My slashes go off course every time."
Aiken brushed back the short blond hair over his forehead, the corners of his mouth lifting.
"Hmph, how could you compare to me?"
"I only practiced this swordsmanship seven times, and even three pendulums are no problem for me. Even Geralt called me clever. I'm a genius."
Horton and the others stared with wide cat eyes, full of envy.
Never mind the pendulums-some of them hadn't even passed the windmill dummy yet.
"Arwen?"
Paul noticed the black-haired boy returning to the apprentices' room.
The noisy room fell briefly silent.
Aiken raised his head, looking down his nose at him with his cat eyes.
"Arwen, I've been waiting ages for you. I challenge you to a duel-a knightly duel!"
At those words, the apprentices' room burst into life.
Horton, Winston, and the others raised their arms and cheered.
Even the injured Blyde's cat eyes lit up.
"Duel! Duel!"
In their dull lives as apprentices, opportunities for entertainment were rare.
Paul quickly dug a wooden sword out from beneath his bed and tossed it to Arwen.
Arwen froze for a moment, then activated [Blade Perception].
[Wooden sword: A wooden sword made from ash by the apprentice Aiken. Total length: forty inches. Blade length: twenty-seven inches. Weight: thirty ounces. Center of gravity located at the guard. Suitable for slashing attacks.]
"Oh, Arwen, teach that blond devil a lesson! Give his ass a good hard kick!"
Paul spoke with an expectant look.
Arwen ran his palm over the blade, his gray cat eyes fixed on Aiken.
Aiken held his sword in both hands, brimming with arrogance. Add their earlier friction to that, and it really was hard not to want to beat him up.
Besides, in this world, if a man of equal standing challenged you to a duel and you refused, you would definitely be branded a coward, mocked, and looked down upon.
The corner of his mouth lifted. I even dared to accept Geralt's duel. Would I, Arwen, be afraid of an apprentice like you?
"In that case, I'll play along."
"Oh! Fantastic!"
The apprentices cheered, and Horton stood straight up on his bed.
"I'll be the referee! I'll be the referee!"
He spread his arms, his voice ringing out.
"On the left, the swordsmanship genius praised by Geralt himself, witcher apprentice Aiken."
"On the right, the drowner slayer who killed five drowners, witcher apprentice Arwen."
"According to the witcher code, apprentice duels must observe..."
Aiken tilted his head, held his wooden sword upright before his chest, narrowed his cat eyes, and let out a hot breath with a shout.
Before Horton could finish reciting the rules, he charged like an agile cheetah.
Arwen raised his sword.
Clack!
The wooden swords collided with a crisp sound.
Aiken spun swiftly and delivered a powerful diagonal slash.
Arwen stepped back, barely dodging it.
For that instant, Aiken's movements and bearing actually bore some resemblance to Geralt's.
Aiken pressed forward relentlessly, his wooden sword swinging again and again. The apprentices' blood surged as they watched, and they screamed.
"Aiken, attack! Attack!"
"Arwen, dodge!"
"Who do you think will win?"
Paul answered without hesitation, "Arwen, obviously."
Winston said, "No, definitely Aiken. Look at Arwen-he's almost been driven into the corner."
"Geralt himself called him a genius."
"Arwen is one too."
"How about a bet?"
"On what?"
"How about tomorrow morning's green juice? Whoever loses gives his juice to the winner."
Watching Arwen retreat again and again, Paul felt anxious, but he still said,
"Fine, you're on!"
Their wager had no effect whatsoever on the two boys locked in fierce combat.
"Arwen, you coward! Is dodging all you can do?"
Aiken's gaze was fierce, and his wooden sword moved faster and faster without the slightest pause.
Arwen didn't let his opponent's taunts disturb him. Instead, he relied on [Dual Souls] to observe his every movement.
Just as Aiken had claimed, he truly was a genius at swordsmanship. His footwork and attacks alike flowed smoothly, nothing like those of a beginner.
Geralt's words from that night surfaced in his mind again.
Twice. Geralt more or less learned the School of the Wolf Witcher Swordsmanship after two run-throughs. Aiken took seven.
And me? I took almost three hours, and even with the system's help, I only barely grasped the basics.
If I want to catch up to them, I have to work a hundred times harder, persevere, and never slack off.
[School of the Wolf Witcher Swordsmanship experience +1!]
Arwen's eyes lit up.
This gives experience points too?
Immediately, he looked at Aiken with a burning gaze, as though looking at an EXP baby.
Stung by Arwen's gaze, Aiken said, "Arwen, I'll prove Master Vesemir and the others were wrong about you. I'm the best apprentice!"
Arwen raised his sword to block the incoming attack. "You talk too much."
"Bastard!"
Aiken shouted, his cat eyes filled with stubbornness and madness as he lunged forward and slashed with his wooden sword.
Crack!
Their blades met head-on, sending wood splinters flying.
Arwen maintained a tight defense, his arms gradually going numb.
The battle reached a stalemate.
"I'm going to smash that turtle shell of yours!"
Suddenly, Aiken leaned forward and executed a thrust.
Arwen's pupils shrank to pinpoints, his mind entering a state of intense concentration.
The thrust came in fiercely, but it also exposed numerous openings.
In short, Aiken had failed to break through after attacking for so long and had gone wild!
An opening!
Arwen decisively stepped forward, turned sideways into the space directly in front of Aiken, and drove his strength through both arms.
The thrusting blade slid along Arwen's wooden sword and was knocked aside by its guard.
Arwen raised his leg and drove his knee hard into Aiken's left knee joint.
"Urgh!"
Panic flashed through Aiken's cat eyes. His charging body abruptly lost its balance, and he crashed heavily to the floor.
By the time he reacted, Arwen already had a foot planted on his back and the edge of his sword pressed against the back of his neck.