"Hah!"
The drowner bared its fangs and brandished its claws, the fins on its back standing erect as a low growl rumbled in its throat.
A dark green gleam flashed across the claws extending from its webbed hands.
Arwen gripped his sword hilt with both hands, his eyes full of vigilance.
Drowners were scavengers. Not only were they highly resistant to toxins, but their claws and teeth also carried countless germs.
If he carelessly let one scratch him, the resulting wound infection would certainly be no less severe than tetanus.
Arwen held his sword upright before the right side of his chest, constantly circling the drowner.
"Arwen, I'll help you!"
His teammates, Horton and Winston, finally reacted and surrounded the drowner with their training swords in hand.
All three were only thirteen or fourteen years old. In terms of build alone, they were no taller or sturdier than the drowner.
Arwen dodged the drowner's lunge. "Training swords won't work against it. Strike its head and belly."
"Be careful. Don't let it scratch you."
With Arwen's warning and six years of teamwork, the three temporarily kept the drowner from gaining its footing.
As for Aiken's group, Aiken's aggressive fighting style also managed to suppress their drowner for the moment.
Vesemir swept his gaze over both groups and raised his chin slightly, his eyes finally settling on Arwen.
People always thought witchers fought alone, that they were solitary hunters.
The reasons were simply the mutations from the Trial of the Grasses and their deliberate training afterward, which left the vast majority of witchers extremely poor at expressing themselves.
They were even called merciless killing machines and damned nonhuman creatures in "Freaks, or a Description of Witchers."
But Vesemir had always believed that witchers needed companions and cooperation too.
And this quality had actually manifested in a fourteen-year-old apprentice.
After his brief surprise, a scream suddenly came from the right.
"Aah!"
Blyde, from Aiken's group, clutched his right arm, his training sword falling to the ground.
The drowner's claws had ripped through his hemp clothing, leaving four straight bloody marks. Blood kept flowing from the wounds, and he could not stop it no matter how hard he pressed.
"Hah!"
Smelling the pungent blood in the air, the drowner went completely berserk. Ignoring Aiken's attacks entirely, it pounced, pinned Blyde down, and opened its mouth to bite him savagely.
Blyde shouted in terror, "Help! Save me!"
At the sight of the frenzied drowner, Aiken's mind briefly froze.
Vesemir frowned slightly. Without needing a signal, Geralt had already strode forward, reached over his shoulder, and gripped his sword hilt, drawing his silver sword.
One swift step, and silver light fell, clean and decisive.
The drowner's hideous head was severed, its murky blood spraying all over Blyde.
This sudden turn of events also affected Arwen's group.
Horton looked toward Aiken's group, his catlike pupils contracting sharply. The pool of blood left his mind blank and filled him with sheer terror.
"What happened to Blyde? Is he dead? Did the drowner kill him?"
"Hah!"
The drowner facing Arwen's group found an opening. Its eyes bloodshot, it charged toward Horton.
Anxiety gripped Arwen. He quickened his steps and shouted, "Horton!"
Only then did Horton react. As he turned back, a blue-green claw rapidly grew larger in the reflection of his catlike eyes.
No, too fast.
He did not even have time to scream.
In that split second, a gray boot suddenly appeared against his side.
The force sent Horton flying.
The drowner's claw struck empty air, and its dead-fish eyes quickly focused on the black-haired boy before it.
"Hah!"
Its foul breath nearly made Arwen vomit up his breakfast.
At the same time, a sharp rush of air sounded, and a faint sting on the skin of his neck sent his heartbeat and adrenaline soaring to their limits.
The drowner's claws were already stabbing toward his neck.
"Whew..."
Under the extreme mental pressure, Arwen felt as though time had stopped.
He could clearly see the trajectory of the drowner's attacking claws, even the patterns on its scales.
Had anyone else seen him, they would have noticed that Arwen's gray, catlike pupils had narrowed to pinpoints.
The mental power boost from his [Dual Souls] talent worked furiously.
Move!
Move, damn it!
Arwen shouted inwardly, quickly ducking down.
The drowner's claws whistled over his head.
Arwen fixed his gaze on the drowner's exposed, soft belly.
An opening!
Arwen darted forward and drove his shoulder into the drowner, knocking it hard to the ground.
With no time to think, Arwen quickly adjusted his stance, strode forward, and stamped one foot onto the drowner's chest. Gripping his training sword in both hands with the point down, he plunged it in hard.
Shhk!
Though the training sword could not cleave through the drowner's armored scales, it was more than enough to pierce its belly.
"Hah!"
The drowner seemed completely oblivious to the wrenching pain in its belly. Even with its intestines twisted into knots, it kept flailing its claws at Arwen.
Arwen was utterly enraged.
This beast still dared to fight back.
He pulled out the sword.
He swung both arms up, and silver light fell. The blade smashed hard into the drowner's head, splattering blood everywhere.
Once, twice...
The drowner's rotten head was soon hacked to mush, and its flailing, struggling limbs gradually went limp against the ground. Even then, Arwen showed no intention of stopping.
A month in this unfamiliar environment, a month of endless training-the pressure on both his body and mind had left him, someone who had experienced modern society, struggling to breathe, pushing his mind to the brink of collapse several times.
He needed an outlet to release all the pent-up frustration in his heart, to hack it all out with his sword.
Only when the system's mechanical notifications sounded in his ears did Arwen stop, panting heavily.
[Drowner slain. Drowner mutagen acquired: 25%] [Apprentice Swordsmanship experience +1!] [Apprentice Swordsmanship Lv1: 100/100 → Apprentice Swordsmanship Max. Talent acquired: Blade Perception] [Blade Perception (white): Years of sword training have given you a unique understanding of swords. You can precisely sense the weight, length, and balance of any sword, allowing you to adapt your sword movements accordingly.]
Arwen looked at the panel.
A feeling of sudden insight welled up within him. Everything about Apprentice Swordsmanship that had previously felt obscure or unfamiliar became clear at that moment.
His right hand instinctively tightened around the sword hilt, his palm slightly warm.
A piece of information quickly surfaced in his mind.
[Wolf School apprentice's two-handed training sword: A two-handed longsword forged by an ordinary blacksmith. Contains fifty-nine impurities. Total length: forty inches. Blade length: twenty-seven inches. Weight: thirty-five ounces. Center of gravity: one inch ahead of the guard. Suitable for slashing.]
This feeling was the feeling of growing stronger.
Arwen pressed his dry lips together.
He quickly understood what this talent did.
Now, as long as he touched an unfamiliar sword, he could immediately sense its strengths and weaknesses and quickly get used to it, without any issues caused by a different balance point.
For a swordsman, this was practically a divine skill.
I just didn't expect Apprentice Swordsmanship to reach max level as soon as I filled its level-one experience bar.
So it really was just apprentice swordsmanship...
And then there's this 25% drowner mutagen.
Arwen recalled that monster mutagens in "The Witcher" could enhance the corresponding abilities. No effect had appeared yet, probably because he had not acquired the full 100%.
One drowner gives 25%. Wouldn't killing three more make it 100%?
Leaning on his sword with his left hand, Arwen wiped the murky blood splashed on his face with the back of his right hand. His gaze slid toward the four drowners tied beside the wooden stakes, his gray, catlike eyes gradually growing fervent.
P.S. The Geralt image used was a screenshot from a video by Bilibili creator (Tuanzi PAPA).