“Ha!”
The Drowner flailed its claws, the fins along its back standing upright as a low growl rumbled in its throat.
A faint, eerie green light flashed across the claws extending from its webbed hands.
Alvin gripped the sword hilt with both hands, his eyes full of caution.
Drowners were scavengers.
Their bodies had extremely strong resistance to poison, and their claws and teeth were crawling with countless pathogens.
One careless scratch could cause an infection no less severe than tetanus.
Alvin held his sword upright before the right side of his chest, circling the Drowner step by step.
“Alvin, I’ll help you!”
Horton and Winston, his teammates, finally came back to their senses and moved in with their training swords, surrounding the Drowner.
All three of them were only thirteen or fourteen.
In terms of build alone, they were no bigger or stronger than the Drowner.
Alvin shifted aside to avoid the Drowner’s lunge.
“Training swords are useless against its scales.
Aim for the head and abdomen.”
“And be careful.
Don’t let it scratch you.”
With Alvin’s warning and six years of teamwork behind them, the three of them kept the Drowner from finding any room to move for the moment.
As for Aiken’s group, Aiken’s aggressive fighting style also managed to suppress their Drowner for a time.
Vesemir looked over both sides, his brow lifting slightly before his gaze finally settled on Alvin.
People always assumed that Witchers fought alone, that they were solitary hunters.
The reason was simple enough.
Between the mutations from the Trial of the Grasses and deliberate training afterward, most Witchers were severely lacking in the ability to express themselves.
In Monstrum, or a Description of Witchers, they were even called merciless killing machines, damned inhuman creatures.
But Vesemir had always believed that Witchers needed companions too.
They needed cooperation.
And now, that very quality had appeared in a fourteen-year-old Apprentice.
After that brief surprise, a scream suddenly rang out from the right.
“Ah!”
Brad from Aiken’s group clutched his right arm, his training sword falling to the ground.
The Drowner’s claws had torn through his hemp shirt, leaving four straight bloody gashes behind.
Blood kept pouring from the wounds, impossible to stop no matter how hard he pressed down.
“Ha!”
Smelling the sharp reek of blood in the air, the Drowner went completely berserk.
Ignoring Aiken’s attacks, it lunged forward, knocked Brad to the ground, opened its mouth, and began tearing at him wildly.
Brad screamed in terror, “Help!
Save me!”
At the sight of the Drowner’s frenzy, Aiken’s mind went blank for a moment.
Vesemir frowned slightly.
No signal was needed.
Geralt had already stepped forward, reached over his shoulder, gripped the hilt, and drew his Silver Sword.
One quick step, a fall of silver light, clean and decisive.
The Drowner’s hideous head was cut off, and murky blood sprayed all over Brad.
That sudden turn also affected Alvin’s group.
Horton looked toward Aiken’s group, his catlike eyes contracting sharply.
The sight of that pool of blood emptied his mind, leaving him frozen in horror.
‘What happened to Brad?
Is he dead?
Did the Drowner kill him?’
“Ha!”
The Drowner facing Alvin’s group found its opening.
Its eyes turned bloodred as it charged straight at Horton.
Alvin’s heart tightened.
He quickened his steps and shouted, “Horton!”
Only then did Horton react.
As his gaze turned back, his catlike eyes reflected the eerie blue-green claws swelling rapidly before him.
No.
It was too fast.
He did not even have time to scream.
In that split second, a gray boot suddenly appeared at his waist.
Under the force of the kick, Horton was sent flying.
The Drowner’s claw tore through empty air, and its dead-fish eyes quickly locked onto the black-haired youth in front of it.
“Ha!”
Its foul breath blasted into Alvin’s face, nearly making him vomit up his breakfast.
At the same time, the sharp sound of rushing air rang out.
A faint sting pricked the skin of his neck, driving his heartbeat and adrenaline to their limit.
The Drowner’s claws were already stabbing toward his throat.
“Hah…”
Under that crushing mental pressure, Alvin felt as if time had stopped in that instant.
He could clearly see the path of the Drowner’s claws, even the patterns in the scales across its body.
To anyone watching from the outside, Alvin’s gray catlike eyes had already narrowed into needle-thin slits.
The mental strength granted by his [Dual Soul] talent was surging wildly.
‘Move!’
‘Move, damn it!’
Alvin shouted inwardly as his body ducked down.
The Drowner’s claws whistled over his head.
Alvin’s eyes fixed on the soft, exposed skin of the Drowner’s abdomen.
A chance!
Alvin rushed forward in one quick step and slammed his shoulder into it, knocking the Drowner hard to the ground.
With no time to think, Alvin adjusted his stance, strode forward, stamped one foot onto the Drowner’s chest, reversed his grip on the training sword with both hands, and drove it down with all his strength.
“Chhk!”
Though the training sword could not split open the Drowner’s scaled hide, it was enough to pierce its abdomen.
“Ha!”
The Drowner seemed not to feel the agony in its belly at all.
Even with its intestines twisted into a knot, its claws still swung toward Alvin.
Alvin was completely furious now.
This beast still dared to fight back.
He pulled the sword free.
Then he swung both arms.
Silver light fell, and the blade smashed hard into the Drowner’s skull, sending blood splattering everywhere.
Once.
Twice.
The Drowner’s rotten head was soon hacked into pulp, and its flailing limbs gradually went limp against the ground.
Even then, Alvin still showed no sign of stopping.
A month in this strange world.
A month of endless training.
The pressure, both physical and mental, had made it hard for him, someone who had lived in modern society, to even breathe.
More than once, it had pushed his mind to the edge of collapse.
He needed an outlet.
He needed to release all the frustration buried in his chest and cut it out with his sword.
Only when the system’s mechanical prompt sounded beside his ear did Alvin stop, panting heavily.
[Drowner slain.
Obtained 25% Drowner Mutagen.]
[Apprentice Swordsmanship Experience +1!]
[Apprentice Swordsmanship Lv1: 100/100 → Apprentice Swordsmanship Max.
Talent acquired: Blade Perception]
[Blade Perception (White): Through years of sword training, you have developed a unique understanding of swords.
You can precisely sense the weight, length, and center of gravity of every sword, allowing you to make swordsmanship movements suited to it.]
Alvin stared at the interface.
A feeling of sudden clarity rose in his mind.
Every point of confusion and unfamiliarity he had still held about Apprentice Swordsmanship dissolved in that moment.
His right hand instinctively tightened around the hilt, and his palm grew faintly warm.
A stream of information quickly surged into his mind.
[Wolf Clan Apprentice 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: three inches in front of the guard.
Suitable for slashing movements.]
This feeling.
It was the feeling of becoming stronger.
Alvin 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 flaws, allowing him to use it quickly without being troubled by shifts in balance or center of gravity.
For anyone who used a sword, this was practically a miraculous skill.
He just had not expected that once Apprentice Swordsmanship Level 1 filled its experience, it would go straight to maximum level.
So it really was just Apprentice Swordsmanship…
And then there was the 25% Drowner Mutagen.
Alvin remembered that in The Witcher, monster Mutagens could strengthen corresponding abilities.
Since no effect had appeared yet, it was probably because he had not obtained the complete 100%.
One Drowner gave 25%.
If he killed three more, would that not make 100%?
Alvin propped himself up with the sword in his left hand and wiped the murky blood from his face with the back of his right hand.
His gaze slid toward the four Drowners tied beside the wooden post, and his gray catlike eyes gradually began to burn with heat.