[School of the Wolf Witcher Swordsmanship EXP +30!] [Quen Sign EXP +10!] [Aard Sign EXP +5!] [Killed the cyclops "Old Spearhead" (BOSS). Chance of obtaining the cyclops "Old Spearhead" mutagen: 100%.]
"Hah!"
Arwen exhaled a stale breath and glanced at the panel, his heart pounding.
He had won!
His tightly strung nerves finally relaxed at that moment.
He opened the panel.
[Cyclops "Old Spearhead" mutagen (purple): installing this mutagen will greatly increase your strength and grant you the purple talent, Giant Bloodline.] [Giant Bloodline (purple): all your muscles and bones will undergo mutation, becoming stronger. Through training, your strength, defense, and stamina will transcend human limits.]
"A purple talent!"
Arwen's eyes burned, and his breathing quickened.
"Install!"
Instantly, a powerful force surged up from the ground. Muscles and bones writhed throughout his body, and tearing pain made him knit his brows tightly.
But as the pain faded, an extraordinarily pleasant sensation followed, leaving his whole body light.
Like a bird taking to the blue sky or a fish entering the sea, the shackles upon the human body were broken by the Giant Bloodline.
Arwen silently experienced the changes in his body. The stale breath he exhaled steamed white in the air like a wave of heat.
His gaze lowered slightly.
[School of the Wolf Witcher Swordsmanship Lv. 2: 927/1000] [Aard Sign Lv. 1: 94/100]
At present, only these two skills were close to leveling up. The others still had some way to go.
He closed the panel.
Arwen walked forward with his silver sword. The raven that had accompanied him for a year perched on Old Spearhead's shoulder, watching him with its pitch-black eyes and cawing.
He smiled knowingly.
This time, the raven had done him a great favor. If it had not drawn Old Spearhead's attention for that instant, he would never have been able to run between the two foglet corpses and carry out his plan to stab out Old Spearhead's lone eye.
"Thanks for this, little fellow."
The raven tilted its head and cawed, then bent down and pecked repeatedly at Old Spearhead's shoulder, trying to pull out a piece of flesh.
But its meager strength could not break through those muscles, which were as hard as solid rock.
Arwen stepped forward, sliced a strip of flesh from the wound on Old Spearhead's thigh with his silver sword, and placed it in his palm.
The raven was very clever and understood what he meant. Flapping its wings, it flew onto his arm, picked up the strip of flesh, and gulped it down whole.
He stroked its sleek, glossy feathers, then cut off several more strips of flesh and placed them beside the path. Seeing this, the raven flew over to enjoy its feast.
He took a deep breath, raised his foot, and kicked. With the enhancement of [Giant Bloodline] and the mutagen, his strength had increased by at least twenty percent over what it had been before.
Boom!
Old Spearhead's corpse toppled backward with a dull thud. The black-haired youth strode forward, raised both arms high, and brought down a flash of silver!
Squelch!
Scalding blood splattered across his pallid face.
The silver sword lodged in Old Spearhead's neck. Arwen planted his hobnailed boot on the cyclops's shoulder and pulled the blade free. Like a serf working in the fields, he swung his hoe again and again until Old Spearhead's head had been completely severed.
He rummaged in his belt pouch for the rope used to secure trophies and hung Old Spearhead's head at his waist.
He glanced at the sun, which had already risen. The raven circled overhead, having eaten and drunk its fill as well.
He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and slid the silver sword into its sheath.
Through [Blade Perception], he could tell that this School of the Wolf silver sword was already completely ruined. A little force would snap the iron core inside it clean through.
But compared with his enormous gains, that was nothing.
He poured what little necrophage oil remained beside Old Spearhead. He did not want to return to find that ghouls had devoured the corpse.
Having quickly finished his preparations, Arwen hurried back to Old Spearhead's cave.
This time, he chose the passage beneath the rock wall and went straight into Old Spearhead's "bedroom."
Bones lay piled like mountains, and the thick smell of blood was pungent enough to choke him.
He found a lower rock, clambered onto the rock wall, and fixed his gaze on the pile of broken stones a short distance ahead.
In the dust beside the rubble, a jumble of footprints remained, left by Paul and the other two.
"This is it."
He called out several times first. When Aiken did not respond, Arwen grew considerably more anxious.
He did not choose the Aard Sign, since it would very likely cause further damage to Aiken's arm.
He reached out with both hands and moved the broken stones away one by one.
At that moment, he profoundly appreciated the immense strength [Giant Bloodline] had given him.
Before, even at his best, moving these stones would have been extremely difficult.
Now, lifting them was easier than drinking water.
Soon, Arwen found Aiken's right hand, crushed into a bloody mess beneath the rubble.
He first cast a Healing Spell and the Quen Sign. Once those protective measures were in place, he dug through the rubble.
Aiken slumped limply, long since unconscious. He had drunk only a little less than half the [Swallow] potion in his left hand.
Arwen poured the [Swallow] potion over Aiken's right arm and cast another [Healing Spell]. Only then did he hoist Aiken over his shoulder and head up the mountain.
As he emerged from Old Spearhead's cave, a cool breeze brushed his face, bringing fresh air.
He looked toward the summit. The Circle of Elements was not far away.
He followed a stony path covered in nettles and moss and arrived before a narrow passage between rock walls.
"Oh, oh, oh... stop... human..."
Arwen raised his head. A figure stood atop the rock wall.
It hunched over, its back covered in a rocklike horny layer. Grayish-brown skin wrapped around knotted muscles, fangs jutted from its gaping mouth, and its long arms hung below its knees.
Hemp rope wound around its body, hung with hammerheads made from branches and broken bones. Its murky eyes held a savage gleam.
Its voice was deep and halting.
"This... this is troll's mountain... stop... or... or..."
As it spoke, it picked up a broken rock that had already been prepared beside it.
Arwen's gaze was cold.
The simplest way past this blocking troll was to kill his way through. Of course, that depended on being able to beat it.
The next option was to negotiate and pay a toll. Gems, gold coins-trolls liked anything shiny, silver swords included.
Arwen immediately discarded the first option. After all that exertion, he no longer had the strength to spare for a prolonged fight with a troll.
Besides, he had the injured Aiken with him.
As for the second option, he was unwilling to take it either.
The silver sword on his back had fought alongside him for so long that he had grown somewhat attached to it.
So he chose neither.
"Troll, I don't want to fight you. How about letting me through for Old Spearhead's sake..."
As he spoke, he lifted the bloodstained cloth at his waist with his left hand, turning that terrifying lone eye toward the troll.
The troll rubbed its eyes at the sight, then stared with eyes as wide as brass bells. The savage aura emanating from Old Spearhead frightened it so badly that its body trembled.
It stammered, "Witcher... go quick... troll... troll... didn't see you..."
At this, Arwen gave a vicious grin and hurried through the passage with Aiken over his shoulder.
Meanwhile, a brown-haired figure was rushing through the woods not far from the passage.
When his catlike eyes caught sight of this scene, he froze as though struck by lightning, followed by utter disbelief.
Eskel sucked in a sharp breath.
"Damn, is that Old Spearhead's head?"
"A witcher apprentice killed him? Are my eyes playing tricks on me?"
"You've got to be kidding!"