"Ssh!"
A line of murky blood spurted from the Drowner's neck, and its hideously grinning head dropped to the ground.
[Slain Drowner, acquired 25% Drowner Mutagen]
Arwen's cat-like eyes drooped slightly, and he heard a buzzing sound continuously coming from the silver sword's blade.
That was the suppressing effect of Necrophage oil on the Drowner.
Clenching his palms, he thought to himself.
"More than that, I can feel that both my strength and stamina have been enhanced, and there's more than just the [Cat] potion in my mouth."
"Splash, splash, splash!"
The sound of rushing water rang out.
His gaze swept over.
A dark blue figure drilled out of the river before him once more.
One, three, seven...
He gripped the hilt tightly with both hands and adjusted his breathing.
These were all mutagens and experience, so there was nothing else to say.
"Come on!"
On a stone wall above the White Stone River, two figures stood side by side.
Beneath her white hood, Viris's gaze scanned the White Stone River below.
On both sides of the river channel, Vesemir had divided the area into six zones.
In each zone, a witcher apprentice was fighting against Drowners.
"I really didn't expect that you would actually invite me to observe your witcher apprentices' trial."
"Fighting Drowners? Heh, what name has this trial taken this time?"
Vesemir's voice was deep, "The Trial of Dreams."
"The Trial of Dreams? This doesn't look much like the name."
Viris looked at Vesemir, a trace of surprise in her tone.
Vesemir's gaze remained fixed on the apprentices, his cat-like eyes narrowing slightly as a flash of pity crossed them.
"Lady Viris, the Trial of Dreams isn't just about killing monsters at night. Before they came here, they drank many potions, including [Cat], [Tawny Owl], and..."
Viris picked up his words.
"And hallucinogens, right? The state of these apprentices is wrong. If they were simply waking up from unconsciousness to deal with these few Drowners, with the help of silver swords and potions, they would definitely not be struggling this much."
"These poor children, you are showing contempt for life; it is simply a crime!"
Vesemir did not refute her.
"That's right, hallucination is where the name [The Trial of Dreams] comes from. They first dream of the things they fear most in their dreams, and only after waking up in a fright do they face these monsters, until the sun rises once more."
"Only under such extreme pressure can we ensure that they won't lose their sanity in the future when facing monsters like higher vampires or Leshens."
Viris's attitude was cold, "Cruel enough."
Vesemir was silent for a moment, "This is the inevitable path to becoming a witcher; this is their fate."
"However... one person exceeded my expectations. The hallucinogen doesn't seem to have had any effect on him."
Viris raised her chin slightly, "You mean Arwen. His mental power is naturally stronger than ordinary people's, so hallucinogens are hardly effective on him."
"Mental power?"
Astonishment flashed across Vesemir.
"Has he disappointed you, Vesemir? Your terrifying trial has had no effect."
"We are simply acting according to dogma."
Viris wanted to mock him a few more times, but the two of them quickly cast their gaze toward the path leading down the mountain at their side.
Movement came from there.
Among the blackthorn bushes, a tall figure slowly appeared.
He had milk-white hair and was carrying a lean human figure on his shoulders.
Vesemir's palms clenched unconsciously.
Viris's mental power swept out, identifying the identity of the person on Geralt's shoulder.
The witcher apprentice, Blyde.
Geralt gently leaned him against the rock wall.
He first nodded to acknowledge Viris before coming to Vesemir's side.
"He killed three Drowners, but he exerted too much force with his right arm, tearing the wound open again. Coupled with excessive fright in his dream, he has already passed out. There's nothing major."
Vesemir nodded, indicating that he understood.
Viris looked away.
Just then, she saw through the anxiety and unease at the bottom of Vesemir's heart.
People of the world all said that witchers were cold, unfeeling, bloodthirsty, and cruel.
Yet during her days of getting along at Kaer Morhen, she discovered that this assertion was clearly taking a part for the whole, because witchers needed to be distinguished according to their factions.
As far as she knew, ever since the Order of Witchers dissolved, witchers had split into many factions: the Wolf School before her eyes, as well as the School of the Griffin, the School of the Cat, the School of the Viper, the School of the Bear, and the School of the Manticore.
So many factions already proved their internal disunity, and the dogmas within each faction had long been worlds apart.
Some of them had fled far off to deserts, while others had been reduced to slaves of regimes and money.
And those who still maintained the principle of neutrality, focusing solely on hunting down monsters that harmed humans, were probably only this branch of the School of the Wolf.
Right, there was also that School of the Griffin which used to have the spirit of chivalry, but it had already vanished for a long time.
Even their castle had been submerged in the snow mountains of Kovir in 1140.
Carefully calculating, it had been nearly ninety years from now.
Viris sighed with considerable emotion.
This was also one of the reasons why she chose to come to the School of the Wolf after her dream prophecy.
After Vesemir confirmed that Blyde was fine, his gaze returned once more to the apprentices still in battle.
As the patriarch of the witchers, cultivating every single apprentice required spending an extremely high amount of painstaking effort.
Especially the apprentices who had successfully survived [The Choice] and [The Trial of Grasses].
In Vesemir's heart, they were only a step away from becoming true witchers.
[The Trial of Dreams] and the subsequent [Trial of the Mountains] were far less perilous than the previous two trials.
Apprentices could greatly increase their pass rate through rigorous training.
If they could die even one less person, that was one less.
"Ssh!"
Arwen dodged a Drowner's pounce, raised his dual swords high, and slashed diagonally with force.
The silver light fell, and the Drowner tumbled to the ground in response.
[Slain Drowner, acquired 25% Drowner Mutagen]
[Witcher Apprentice Swordsmanship experience +1!]
Arwen kicked the corpse lying on the ground away with his boot, his movements growing increasingly practiced.
In the status panel, the acquisition of Drowner Mutagen reached 300%.
"Aside from the five I killed before, I've now killed seven more."
Arwen's body did not relax in the slightest; instead, his gray cat-like eyes grew increasingly alert.
He sniffed. The damp air was mixed with a sticky stench of blood.
Moonlight poured over the river surface, reflecting sparkling silver brilliance.
The water surface began to stir, rippling in circles as blue heads with fish fins drilled out one after another, casting ferocious and bloodthirsty gazes.
Arwen stepped slightly backward, but behind him, apart from the sheer cliff, there was completely no cover; he had nowhere to hide.
On the cliff face, Vesemir furrowed his brow tightly and spoke in a low voice.
"Something's wrong..."
Geralt's right hand felt for the hilt of his sword, "What is it?"
Vesemir said, "Arwen's position-the number of Drowners there is too large; it has already exceeded the scope of the trial."
Viris lowered her eyelids, her mental power blanketing the area, her pupils vibrating.
"Not good. A powerful monster is approaching him."