The kitchen.
Torches burned with yellow flames along the stone walls, casting the figures around the long table onto the floor in crooked black shadows.
Alvin sat in his usual place, scooped a piece of stewed venison from his bowl with a wooden spoon, and put it into his mouth.
There was not much seasoning, only coarse salt and a little carrot and onion for flavor, but it tasted decent enough.
He raised his head and glanced at the empty seats across the long table.
Vesemir and Geralt had not come to dinner.
“Hey, I’m telling you, tonight’s dinner is incredible.”
Winston finished a large bowl of meat soup down to the last drop, then sucked his index finger clean.
Horton and the others all nodded, their eyes full of satisfaction.
Paul drank half a cup of green juice and nudged Alvin’s arm with his elbow.
“Alvin, my good brother, this morning you said you weren’t interested in that herbalist nun.”
“And what happened?
After the Alchemy class ended, you didn’t even come out with us.
Damn it, tell us.
What did you do?
Did you see her face?”
Alvin set down his spoon.
“It’s Lady Vries.
I only asked her for some advice about alchemy.”
Paul drew out his voice.
“Oh, Lady Vries.
Goddess Melitele above, ha ha.”
The other apprentices burst into cheerful laughter as well.
Alvin said indifferently, “If you wanted to see her that badly, why didn’t you just stay in the stone chamber?”
At that, Paul and the others froze.
He was right.
If they had wanted to see her, they could have gone back to the stone chamber to find Alvin.
But why was it that, the moment they walked out of the stone chamber, the thought of going back had completely vanished from their minds?
All their curiosity about the herbalist nun had disappeared in that instant, as if an invisible hand had covered their eyes.
Alvin caught that brief silence and frowned slightly.
“Ha.
All that Alchemy is just a side path.
What good is mastering Potions?
A Witcher should use a sword!”
Aiken leaned back in his wooden chair and spoke with an arrogant air.
Alvin only gave a soft laugh and did not expose his dreadful performance in Alchemy class.
That tone was pure childish jealousy, like saying the grapes were sour because he could not reach them.
Dong!
The bell rang out over Kaer Morhen, marking the end of the apprentices’ day.
Alvin and the others washed their faces, returned to the apprentice quarters, and lay down on the large bed.
After saying good night to one another, everyone quickly fell asleep.
Cold moonlight streamed in through the window.
Alvin suddenly opened his eyes.
He had not forgotten what Geralt had said.
He reached out and lifted Paul’s leg off him, then listened carefully.
He could clearly distinguish the snores of the others as they slept.
Alvin climbed out of bed quietly, left the apprentice quarters, and checked several times to make sure no one had followed him before heading to the training grounds in front of the castle.
The bright moon hung high overhead.
The autumn wind was bleak, and from the forest outside Kaer Morhen came the occasional cry of a tawny owl.
In the middle of the training ground, a young man with white hair sat on a stone block, his amber cat-like eyes fixed straight on him.
“I thought you’d forgotten our agreement.”
Geralt stood and flexed his wrists.
His silver-inlaid gauntlets gave off a cold gleam beneath the moonlight.
“Geralt…”
Before Alvin could finish, Geralt had already taken a training sword from the weapon rack beside him and tossed it in front of him.
Then Geralt casually picked one for himself, lifted his chin slightly, and stood with his back to the moonlight, his face cold and shadowed.
Alvin’s cat-like eyes focused.
He took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up the training sword.
[Blade Perception] activated.
[Wolf School Apprentice Two-Handed Training Sword: A two-handed longsword forged by an ordinary blacksmith.
It contains fifty-two impurities.
Overall length: forty inches.
Blade length: twenty-seven inches.
Weight: thirty-five ounces.
Center of gravity: three inches in front of the guard.
Suitable for slashing movements.]
Throwing a sword at him like that was clearly a provocation, a challenge to a duel from the other party.
And how could a real man refuse a duel?
Alvin gripped the hilt with both hands and held the sword upright before the left side of his chest.
The corner of Geralt’s mouth lifted.
“Careful.”
Without another word, Geralt charged straight at him, reaching him in the blink of an eye.
So fast!
Startled, Alvin raised his sword to block.
Clang!
Steel struck steel, and sparks flew.
Alvin felt a tremendous force jolt through the web of his hand, forcing him back several steps.
Before he could steady himself, Geralt’s blade followed immediately.
Alvin used his right foot as the pivot and twisted his body away.
The blade swept past his chest with a sharp whistle.
“Ha!”
Geralt gave a low shout, lunged forward, drove power up from the ground, and swept his sword across.
Alvin had no choice but to roll backward.
Geralt pressed him step by step, the training sword in his hand lashing again and again like a farmer’s whip.
Only after Alvin had been struck several times did Geralt slow his attack, giving him a chance to get back on his feet.
The pain in his back made Alvin grimace as he drew in a sharp breath.
Geralt held his sword in both hands and began circling Alvin.
“Your footwork is too stiff.
If you only pivot on your toes to turn your upper body, you leave yourself wide open the moment you shift sideways.”
Alvin retreated a few steps, his cat-like eyes locked on Geralt’s movements.
He had not yet fully understood what those words meant.
A flash of sword light appeared in his vision.
“Wait…”
Alvin hurriedly raised his sword to block.
Geralt gave him no chance to plead for mercy.
He stepped forward, turned his upper body, and brought down a powerful diagonal slash like a crescent moon.
Clang!
Alvin staggered back several steps, the web of his hand numb, both arms trembling.
He nearly lost his grip on the training sword.
His gray cat-like eyes narrowed to pinpoints.
That strike had been too fast, so fast he had not reacted in time at all.
If Geralt had not deliberately struck just above the crossguard of his training sword, but had aimed somewhere else, his shoulder, for instance, it would have split his flesh open.
Cold sweat kept breaking out along his back.
Geralt took a few steps back and rested his right hand on the training sword, looking at Alvin, whose hair was a mess and whose body was covered in mud.
He was in a truly sorry state.
“I was right about you.
Your Apprentice Swordsmanship is well trained.
If you hadn’t brought it to a proper level, you would never have blocked that strike.”
“How do you feel?”
Alvin snapped, “Geralt, my hands are shaking.
Were you trying to kill me just now?”
“Ha.
Shaking is normal.
Sleep it off and you’ll be fine.” Geralt raised his sword.
“According to the Witcher’s Code, with your current swordsmanship, you can now be taught true Wolf School swordplay for Witchers.”
Alvin looked up, his voice tinged with surprise.
“Really?”
Ever since maxing out Apprentice Swordsmanship, he had been worrying about how to learn higher-level swordsmanship.
Geralt lifted his sword and took several steps, swift and light, drawing streaks of silver light through the air like a deadly waltz.
“Our Wolf School swordplay focuses on footwork.
You twist your waist while dodging, using that motion to drive the strength of your upper body into your sword.”
Geralt demonstrated the Wolf School swordplay once.
“Did you see it clearly?”
Thanks to [Dual Soul], Alvin had basically memorized it all, and he immediately nodded.
[Wolf School Witcher Swordsmanship detected.
Unlocking.]
[Wolf School Witcher Swordsmanship Lv1: 0/100]
The panel appeared!
Geralt turned sideways.
“Good.
Now show me.”
Alvin adjusted his breathing and began copying the movements Geralt had just demonstrated.
Geralt watched for a while, his cold cat-like eyes shifting from moved to astonished.
He had not expected Alvin to remember almost all of it after seeing it only once.
Even so, there were still many mistakes, and they were fatal ones.
“Faster.”
“Move your feet faster!”
“Dodge!”
Geralt suddenly struck, cutting at Alvin’s back.
Clang!
The two swords collided, breaking Alvin’s footwork.
“Geralt!”
“Shut up!
Hold your sword steady.
After you turn, you must block.”
“Remember this.
You never know who might strike you from behind.
If you’re careless, even a pitchfork can take your life.”
“Faster!”