The footsteps drew closer and closer.
Arwen's cat eyes fixed on "Blyde." An utterly eerie smile stretched across that deathly pale face, the corners of his mouth nearly splitting all the way to the back of his head.
First, he formed the Aard Sign's counterpart, the Quen Sign, casting a blue shield over himself.
"Arwen... heh heh..."
"Blyde" staggered toward him, looking liable to fall at any moment. Nettles and hawthorn bushes swayed in the wind beside his feet.
Arwen charged, the muscles in his arms bulging as he brought the silver sword raised above his head crashing down.
Clang!
Silver moonlight sliced through the mist, cleaving diagonally through "Blyde."
But the feedback traveling up Arwen's arms felt as though he had cut through air.
"Blyde's" face twisted hideously, as though he had seen something utterly terrifying. An illusory, hollow wound appeared across his body, mist curling out of it.
Then he dispersed in the wind.
It was an illusion.
"Heh heh heh..."
A strange laugh rang out, like a saw cutting through wood, setting his teeth on edge.
The sound came from every direction, making its source impossible to pinpoint.
Suddenly, Arwen caught a faint rustling sound.
It was the sound of bushes being trampled.
He slashed into the mist to his right.
Again, his sword met nothing.
He missed again!?
It could even fabricate the sound of footsteps?
Crack!
Something sharp tore through the pale blue shield, scattering it into drifting motes.
Then searing pain surged from his back.
Arwen spun around and swung, cutting through empty air once more.
"Heh heh..."
The foglet gave a smug, strange cry. It had long since vanished into the mist, without so much as a shadow in sight.
Cold wind brushed the warm wound on his back, bringing a faint chill.
Had he not cast the Quen Sign beforehand, that blow would likely have torn through his skin and gouged out a chunk of flesh.
His gaze swept his surroundings warily.
Vesemir had once said that foglets were extremely cunning monsters, adept at deception, luring, and bewildering the mind.
They did not even need to attack. By creating illusions, they could gradually erode their prey's mental defenses until it was at their mercy. This was also a foglet's usual trick.
Witchers had to be especially careful when hunting them. The sight and hearing they depended on for survival could both be confused, and even the [Cat] potion could not see through the environment spawned by the mist.
Under these circumstances, without accurate judgment, even the most agile could die at any moment.
The strange cries returned, and Arwen understood this all too well.
His left hand silently formed a sign, and the Quen shield lit up again.
He did not stop there. His left hand swiftly switched to another sign, his lips moving as he silently recited a tongue-twisting incantation.
Pale green motes flew from his palm and burrowed into the wound on his back. The bloody gash healed at a speed visible to the naked eye.
[Healing Spell]!
Over the past two years, he had also raised [Healing Spell] to Lv2, gaining a white talent, [Healing Factor].
[Healing Factor (white): increased the healing effect of healing-related magic by 5% when cast]
Five percent might not seem like much, but at a critical moment, that tiny difference could save a life.
Rustle, rustle, rustle!
The sound of bushes being crushed came again, growing increasingly rapid.
"Trying the same trick again?"
He spun, holding his sword in his right hand alone, and slashed through empty air.
Arwen stamped his right foot hard against the ground, arresting his movement.
Swish!
Something sharp sliced through the air, making the hairs along his spine stand on end.
"Found you."
An instant before the Quen Sign shattered, he pressed his left hand against the air, unleashing a powerful, fan-shaped shock wave with the Aard Sign.
Boom!
Grass and branches whirled into the air, and the mist was blown away.
"Aaagh!"
A shrill scream came from within, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground hard.
Arwen's cat eyes were cold as he finally got a clear look at the monster.
The monster's withered, skinny body was hunched over, its ashen skin stretched tightly over jutting bones. Pointed ears stuck out on either side of its bald skull.
Two pale, ghostly blue pupils sat in its sunken sockets, filled with a deathly stillness unlike anything alive.
Yellowed fangs jutted beyond its lips. Its long arms hung at its sides, its black, withered claws gleaming with a cold edge.
Arwen charged with his sword. The foglet scrambled to its feet, its back arched in a crouch, looking just like a hungry ghost that had crawled out of the mist.
It moved incredibly fast, letting out a hair-raising shriek. Its legs bent and sprang like springs, and it used the pine trunk beside it to leap roughly ten feet into the air.
Its long arms swept down toward Arwen's face, its claws tearing through the air.
Arwen turned sideways and slashed.
The foglet hastily dodged.
"Hah!"
A second flash of sword light followed close behind as [Whirling Blade] triggered.
Shhk!
The blade sliced across the foglet's back, and the necrophage oil sizzled as it burned.
The foglet howled in pain, scrabbling at the ground with all four limbs as it fled.
Shrieking, it ran a circle around Arwen, no longer displaying any of the smugness with which it had toyed with him.
Then, like an agile ape, it swiftly climbed a pine tree. Standing at the top, it looked at Arwen, its deathly eyes filled with slaughter and madness.
Arwen cast another Quen Sign.
At the same time, the foglet spread its arms and leaped down from above, its sharp claws and the fangs in its mouth gleaming with a chilling light.
Arwen sneered inwardly. This attack made it nothing more than an airborne target, and [Dual Souls] captured its trajectory perfectly.
He turned, dodging with ease.
The triple slash of [Whirling Blade] came crashing down, splitting the foglet's skin and flesh as its roars shook the air.
The foglet abruptly twisted around, its long arm reaching out to grab the blade. Its ugly face roared at Arwen, spraying foul-smelling saliva all over his face.
Arwen shoved hard with his right hand, driving the silver sword through the foglet's shoulder and pinning it firmly to the ground.
The foglet let out a piercing scream, swiping at Arwen's eyes with its other, unpinned claw.
Already prepared, Arwen slammed his left knee down on its wrist. The crack of bone was clearly audible in the mist.
He wiped his face with his left hand and spat at it.
"Disgusting."
Mist once again covered the corner of the clearing that the Aard Sign had blasted clear.
The foglet's frail body began to distort, dull yellow motes flickering.
"Arwen..."
The terrified, gray-haired image of "Blyde" appeared once more.
Extreme fury welled up in the black-haired youth's cat eyes, his killing intent almost bursting forth.
His silver-studded fist hammered down.
A single punch knocked the foglet back into its original form.
The foglet's face crumpled, several teeth breaking off. Then came a storm of punches.
He would repay blood with blood and tooth for tooth for Blyde.
Dull thuds mingled with shrill screams.
Soon, the foglet's struggling body went still. Its ugly head no longer bore any resemblance to its former shape.
Only then did Arwen slowly rise, panting heavily, and pull the silver sword from the foglet's shoulder.
Sword light flashed, severing the foglet's head.