[School of the Wolf witcher swordsmanship experience +1!]
Aiken raised his head, gritting his teeth, the wall reflected in his green cat eyes as anger and resentment intertwined within them.
He abruptly braced both hands against the floor, and his neck immediately met the sword's edge.
Though the wooden sword was blunt, it pierced his heart like a needle, abruptly clearing his head.
He fell silent for a few seconds, then his hands went limp. "I... I lost."
"Oh, praise Arwen!"
Paul shouted excitedly.
"Winston, did you see that? I won! Your green juice tomorrow morning is mine!"
Winston clenched his fists, looking thoroughly sulky.
The apprentices cheered for Arwen, but there was not a trace of a smile on his face.
He moved the wooden sword away from Aiken's neck.
He could not say he particularly disliked Aiken.
The boy was young and competitive, and even his jealousy was written plainly on his face.
Compared to those who hid knives behind their smiles, he was much easier to get along with.
Arwen moved his foot aside, bent down, and held out a hand to Aiken.
Horton called out as well, "The winner of this duel is Arwen the Drowner Slayer! Upholding the principle of mutual assistance in the witcher code, he must lend a helping hand."
Aiken's cat eyes turned toward Arwen's palm. He hesitated for a moment, sorely tempted to slap it away.
But he also felt that lying on the floor like a dog was humiliating, so he took the offered hand and let Arwen help him up.
"Give me a few more days of practice. I won't lose to you next time."
Hearing Aiken's tough talk beside his ear, Arwen smiled helplessly. "As long as it's a fair duel, you're welcome anytime."
He could not ask for anything better than experience delivered right to his door.
Aiken snorted, rubbed his knee, and sat down by the bed.
Paul came over to Arwen. "Arwen, how did you learn your swordsmanship? Teach us. Vesemir really put us through the wringer today."
"Yeah, help us out," Horton added.
Arwen looked at those cat eyes brimming with anticipation.
He had just gained two experience points from defeating Aiken.
Would sparring with these apprentices earn him even more experience?
As the saying went, actual combat was the best teacher. It was certainly better than practicing alone.
Besides, with six years of friendship between them, Arwen did not mind giving them a hand.
"Sure. We can spar when we have time, as long as you don't cry about the pain."
"Huh? Spar with you?" Paul froze for a moment. "You beat Aiken in one strike. How could we compare to you?"
"No, he was too impatient," Arwen said. "If we'd kept going, it would have been hard to say who would win."
The cat eyes of Paul and the others lit up, and they all looked at Aiken, only to find that he had turned his back to them, snorting through his nose.
Dong!
The bell of Kaer Morhen rang out.
"Quick, hide the wooden swords! We're in trouble if Vesemir finds out."
Everyone swiftly returned to their beds, while Arwen and Aiken deftly stuffed the wooden swords back underneath theirs.
The apprentices on either side blew out the candles on the bedside cabinets, then each pulled up his quilt and closed his eyes.
Their surroundings fell into darkness.
In the shadows outside the apprentices' room, a pair of amber cat eyes suddenly emerged.
Vesemir stood there quietly, having been there for some time, until a satisfied smile finally lifted the corners of his weathered mouth.
Midnight arrived.
Arwen abruptly opened his eyes.
He could not sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could think of was the basic meditation method Lady Viris had taught him.
No, I have to try it.
Only after listening carefully and confirming that the breathing of Paul and the other four had grown deep and even did Arwen sit up.
Bound by his agreement with Viris not to teach the meditation method to anyone without permission, he decided to train outside.
Taking his clothes, he carefully left the apprentices' room and made his way to a secluded corner of Kaer Morhen's front courtyard.
It was the same place where he had installed the mutagen last time.
The September autumn wind in the north was already bitterly cold, clearing his head further.
He glanced up at the starry sky as the haunting call of a tawny owl drifted over.
Arwen knelt on the ground, sitting back on his heels, with his palms loosely cupped before his lower abdomen.
He recalled what he knew about the Meditation Method.
Simply put, meditation meant calming the mind and focusing, repeatedly visualizing something in one's head.
The basic meditation method Lady Viris gave me makes it very clear. Chaos energy fills every part of this world, and magic means harnessing that energy for your own use.
There are four kinds of chaos energy: the four elements of earth, water, air, and fire. Sensing even one of them barely qualifies you as a beginner.
Arwen regulated his breathing, his chest rising and falling as he repeatedly pictured natural scenes of mountains, rivers, storms, and raging flames.
Yet even after a long time, the experience for [Basic Meditation] on his panel had not increased at all.
He did not lose heart, instead continuing the monotonous process over and over.
Suddenly, his nostrils twitched slightly, as though he had detected some strange scent.
Joy surged through him.
The elements? Have I sensed the elements?
Haha, the elements actually smell sweet.
No, that's not right. Why am I getting dizzy?
Splash, splash, splash!
Arwen felt as though he had just had a hazy dream, and his head felt ready to split.
He reached up to rub his temples, struggling to open his heavy eyelids.
A brilliant river of stars hung in the night sky, and the sound of flowing water filled his ears.
Arwen's cat eyes abruptly narrowed, and he immediately straightened up.
"This isn't Kaer Morhen. This is..."
He examined his surroundings. Towering cliffs rose on either side, and a swift river flowed between them.
He pursed his lips. His mouth was parched, while an intense, complex taste burst across his tongue.
After carefully identifying it, [Alchemy Perception] allowed him to detect the presence of cursed buttercup.
It was a potion!
His darkened vision began to reverse, and all color drained from the world, turning it a deathly, ashen gray.
Was it the potion [Cat]?
"Hiss, hiss, hiss..."
A harsh, grating sound suddenly rang out.
Arwen quickly turned to look. A yellow-white outline of an upper body appeared on the lake's surface, just like something seen through a modern thermal imager.
The monster emerged from the water, river water sliding off his deep-blue scales as a scarlet gleam flashed in his bulging, dead-fish eyes.
"Ha!"
A piercing shriek rang out.
Alarm bells blared in Arwen's mind.
A drowner!
He braced both palms against the ground, feeling something rigid against his back.
Arwen instinctively reached over his shoulder and grasped the cold metal.
[Blade Perception] activated.
[School of the Wolf witcher's silver sword: a silver sword from the Kaer Morhen armory's collection. Silver-plated steel core, with elven runes engraved on the blade. Twenty flaws. Total length: thirty-eight inches. Blade length: twenty-five inches. Weight: forty ounces. Center of balance: one inch from the guard. Suitable for slashing.] [Coated with necrophage oil. Will deal massive damage to necrophages.]
Necrophage oil?
Before he could register his shock, the drowner that had surfaced was already charging, a fishy stench sweeping toward him.
His right hand reached over his shoulder and drew the silver sword, his cat eyes still.
This was not his first time facing a drowner.
The next instant, a silver arc of swordlight swept out.