Alvin walked down the spiral staircase toward the first-floor hall.
“Vries…”
He kept murmuring the name to himself.
After playing through The Witcher trilogy, he truly had not expected there to be a female Mage named Vries.
One reason was that Western names were simply too complicated for him.
Another was that female sorceresses like Yennefer and Triss were so dazzling in the games that they overshadowed everyone else.
At that thought, he could not help looking forward to his first meeting with those two sorceresses.
“Chronologically, I remember Yennefer was born in 1173.
She might be in Vengerberg right now.”
“1173.
It’s 1228 now, so Geralt should be about eighteen after this year.
Thinking about it, there’s almost forty years between them.
Does that count as an older woman chasing a younger man?”
Alvin shook his head with a laugh.
“As for Triss, she’s probably still a little brat right now, studying at the School of Magic.”
Lost in thought, he left the corridor and arrived by the kitchen.
On the long wooden table sat bread, scrambled eggs, and sausage.
There was no sign of the Witcher or the Apprentices.
Alvin looked back at the great hole in Kaer Morhen behind him.
The sun had risen and set, and starlight poured in like a gauzy mist.
Alvin sat down.
His stomach had been growling for a while, so he quickly finished dinner, cleared the tableware, and returned to the apprentices’ quarters.
As soon as he reached the door, the apprentices’ noisy voices came from inside.
Alvin looked in with his cat eyes.
Aiken stood in the aisle in a coarse linen shirt, holding a wooden sword, his green cat eyes bright with excitement.
Paul and the other three sat on their beds, applying medicine to one another while talking nonstop.
“Aiken, do it again!”
“Your footwork was too fast just now.
I didn’t even see it clearly.”
“Exactly.”
“Damn it, how do you spin and swing the sword at the same time?
Every time I try, my strike goes crooked.”
Aiken brushed back the short golden hair on his forehead, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Hmph.
How could any of you compare to me?”
“I only practiced this sword technique seven times, and the Three Pendulums are no problem either.
Even Geralt praised me for being smart.
I’m a genius.”
Horton and the others widened their cat eyes, filled with envy.
Forget the Pendulums.
Some of them had not even passed the Windmill Dummy yet.
“Alvin?”
Paul noticed the black-haired boy returning to the apprentices’ quarters.
The noisy room fell briefly silent.
Aiken raised his head, his cat eyes looking over with disdain.
“Alvin, I’ve been waiting for you.
I challenge you to a duel.
A Knightly Duel!”
The moment he said that, the apprentices’ quarters burst into excitement.
Horton, Winston, and the others raised their arms and cheered.
Even the injured Brad’s cat eyes lit up.
“Duel!
Duel!”
In this dull apprentice life, finding a bit of entertainment was a rare thing.
Paul quickly pulled a wooden sword from under the bed and tossed it to Alvin.
Alvin froze for a moment, then activated [Blade Perception].
[Wooden Sword: A wooden sword made by Apprentice Aiken from ash wood.
Total length: forty inches.
Blade length: twenty-seven inches.
Weight: thirty ounces.
Center of gravity: three inches in front of the guard.
Suitable for slashing and chopping.]
“Oh, Alvin, hurry up and teach that blond bastard a lesson.
Kick his ass good!”
Paul said eagerly.
Alvin ran his palm over the blade, his gray cat eyes fixed on Aiken.
Aiken stood there with both hands clasped around his sword, arrogant as could be.
Together with their earlier little friction, it really made him hard not to want to beat up.
Besides, in this world, if a man of the same rank challenged you to a duel and you refused, you would definitely be branded a coward, mocked, and looked down on.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
If he dared accept Geralt’s duel, why would Alvin be afraid of one Apprentice?
“In that case, I’ll play along.”
“Oh!
Wonderful!”
The apprentices cheered, and Horton jumped straight off the bed.
“I’ll be the referee!
I’ll be the referee!”
He spread his arms wide, his voice ringing out.
“On the left, the swordsmanship genius praised by Geralt himself, Witcher apprentice Aiken.”
“On the right, the Drowner Slayer who killed five drowners, Witcher apprentice Alvin.”
“According to the Witcher’s Code, apprentice duels must observe…”
Aiken tilted his head, held his wooden sword upright before his chest, narrowed his cat eyes, and exhaled a puff of warm breath.
Before Horton could finish reciting the rules, Aiken shot forward like an agile cheetah.
Alvin raised his sword.
“Clack!”
The wooden swords collided with a crisp sound.
Aiken spun swiftly and brought down a powerful diagonal slash.
Alvin took a step back, barely avoiding it.
In that instant, Aiken’s movements and presence actually bore some resemblance to Geralt’s.
Aiken pressed him step by step, the wooden sword in his hands swinging without pause.
The apprentices watched with their blood pumping, screaming at the top of their lungs.
“Aiken, attack!
Attack!”
“Alvin, dodge!”
…
“Who do you think will win?”
Paul answered without hesitation.
“Alvin, obviously.”
Winston said, “No, definitely Aiken.
Look at Alvin.
He’s almost been driven into the corner.”
“He’s the genius Geralt mentioned.”
“So is Alvin.”
“Why don’t we make a bet?”
“Bet what?”
“Tomorrow morning’s green juice.
Whoever loses gives their juice to the winner.”
Paul watched Alvin being forced back again and again.
He was anxious, but he still said, “Fine.
Let’s bet.”
Their wager had no effect at all on the two locked in fierce combat.
“Alvin, you coward.
Is dodging all you can do?”
Aiken’s eyes were fierce, and the wooden sword in his hands grew faster and faster without the slightest pause.
Alvin did not let the other boy’s taunts disturb him.
Instead, he relied on [Dual Soul] to observe every one of Aiken’s movements.
Just as the other boy had said, Aiken truly was a genius with the sword.
Whether it was his footwork or his attacks, everything flowed smoothly, nothing like a beginner at all.
Geralt’s words from that night surfaced in his mind again.
‘Two times.
Geralt only needed two attempts to roughly learn Wolf School Witcher Swordsmanship, while Aiken took seven.’
‘And me?
I spent nearly three hours, and even with the system’s help, I only barely got started.’
‘If I want to catch up to them, I have to put in a hundred times the effort, persevere, and never slack off.’
[School of the Wolf Witcher Swordsmanship Experience +1!]
Alvin’s eyes lit up.
This gave experience points too?
Immediately, his gaze turned heated as he looked at Aiken, as if he were staring at a walking bundle of experience.
Aiken was provoked by Alvin’s stare.
“Alvin, I’ll prove that Master Vesemir and the others were wrong about you.
I’m the best Apprentice!”
Alvin raised his sword to block the incoming attack.
“You talk too much.”
“Bastard!”
Aiken roared, his cat eyes filled with stubbornness and frenzy.
He lunged forward and swung his wooden sword.
“Snap!”
The two met force with force, and wood shavings flew.
Alvin defended tightly, his arms gradually going numb.
The battle fell into a deadlock.
“I’ll smash that turtle shell of yours!”
Suddenly, Aiken leaned forward and launched a thrust.
Alvin’s pupils shrank to pinpoints, his concentration sharpening to the extreme.
The thrust came in fiercely, but it also exposed many flaws.
In short, Aiken had attacked for too long without breaking through and had lost his patience.
An opening!
Alvin decisively stepped forward, turned sideways, and slipped in front of Aiken, strength bursting through both arms.
The thrusting blade was knocked aside along the guard of Alvin’s wooden sword.
Alvin lifted his leg and drove his knee hard into Aiken’s left knee joint.
“Ugh!”
Panic flashed through Aiken’s cat eyes.
His charging body abruptly lost balance, and he crashed heavily to the ground.
By the time he came back to his senses, Alvin’s foot was already planted on his back, and the sword’s edge was pressed against the nape of his neck.