"Good lad, I like that fire in you!" Letho's voice dropped low, his hand landing with a slap on Ailin's shoulder.
"We'll be watching," Vesemir added, nodding in approval.
Ailin gave a small, determined nod, drawing Elsa, his silver sword, with slow, deliberate motion. His eyes narrowed as he began stalking towards the nearest drowners.
Elsa still felt a bit unwieldy, though it had grown somewhat easier to handle. With his increased attributes, Ailin's proficiency with the Wolf School's two-handed sword had reached Level 2, and now he could wield it with relative ease in combat.
The leaves underfoot betrayed his every step.
Crunch... crunch...
Even with all the care in the world, the stubborn forest floor still rebelled against his stealth, announcing his approach to the creatures waiting in the dark.
The blue shape of a drowner drew closer, its head turning toward him.
Ailin's heart rate quickened, the beating pulse in his chest thrumming like a war drum.
He measured the distance in his mind.
Taking down all eight of them in one sweep was impossible—not now, anyway.
He would have to take down as many as he could before they even realized what had happened.
Magic flowed through him, his fingers making minute movements as they traced a triangle in the air.
The Quen sign.
A flicker of yellow light flashed briefly.
Ailin felt the effect—subtle, yet more potent than before. The magic, enhanced by his new abilities, had grown stronger, its glow deeper than in the morning.
With the shield up, there was no more hesitation.
He crouched low, his cat-like eyes narrowing, and in an instant, he pounced forward like a tiger descending a mountain.
Five meters, crossed in two swift steps.
Before the nearest drowner could react, Ailin spun, and Elsa flashed like a silver bolt, her blade cleanly cutting through the creature's throat.
Shhck
There was no hesitation in the blade's swing. It sliced through with deadly precision, exiting the other side in one seamless motion.
Ailin didn't pause to admire the sword's sharpness; instead, he sidestepped, barely avoiding the collapsing body.
His feet moved in quick, fluid patterns—left foot, right foot, sword raised at his side, then a quick pivot. With a shift in weight, he slammed his foot down into the ground, transferring the force up through his leg and spine, propelling his sword forward in one smooth, devastating thrust.
Stab!
Elsa struck true, the silver blade sinking deep into the throat of one drowner and exiting through the back of another, both kills executed with a brutal elegance.
Without the skills at Level 2, such precision wouldn't have been possible. Power, agility, and perception had all grown sharper with his training.
Of course, none of this would have been possible without Elsa.
For all her 17,325 Orens, the sword lived up to its price. Not only did she glide through bone like a knife through butter, but she sliced through the hardest skulls as though they were nothing more than soft tofu.
The remaining drowners were just starting to react, their guttural howls filling the air as they charged at him.
Ailin immediately stepped back, retreating two paces to catch his breath and throw the monsters' formation into disarray.
The three closest drowners, following him too eagerly, collided into one another, their aim disrupted.
Now, only the first could strike at Ailin. The others were tangled, blocked from reaching him.
"Nice footwork, exquisite tactics!" Letho's voice rang out in admiration. "Vesemir, did you see that? He doesn't look like an apprentice."
Vesemir smiled with pride. "Do you think he was taught by anyone less than me?"
"Ah, yes, of course. But don't forget that sword of his—Elsa, 17,325 Orens worth! She's a beauty, no mistake." Letho couldn't resist the jab.
Vesemir scowled and kicked him in the shin. "Have you figured out where you're hiding yet?"
"Hiding from Talcentvira's pursuit isn't easy," Letho muttered, though a tremor ran through his body at the mention of that name. He barely dodged the kick.
"Bastard."
"Right back at you."
Letho's usual cocky grin faded as his thoughts turned inward. He mumbled, "Maybe just find some city to disappear into. The esteemed and mighty sorceress won't bother chasing me over something so small, surely."
Vesemir raised an eyebrow. "Don't be so sure. Women, from what I've seen, don't forget easily."
"Hell, teaching a poor bastard like you a lesson might be a fun little pastime for her."
Letho snorted, irritated. "Shut up and watch your precious apprentice. Don't let him screw this up."
With a quick swipe at his pant legs, where dirt had gathered from the kick, he added, "I don't want to regret not running back to Kaer Morhen."
Vesemir shot him another glare before turning his attention back to Ailin, who was fighting.
Ailin twisted and spun, dodging a swiping claw, his body moving with the grace of a seasoned acrobat. He landed lightly, then sprang forward, raising his sword high.
A flash of silver arced through the air, and a drowner's head split cleanly in two, the cut passing directly through the brow.
"Only three left," Ailin counted to himself, his voice soft but steady.
Even the mindless drowners, now feeling their dwindling numbers, no longer charged with the same ferocity.
They hesitated, circling him like wolves sizing up a wounded deer.
Ailin took this moment to steady himself, taking a defensive stance with his sword angled across his chest.
Huff... huff...
The intensity of the battle had left him gasping for air. His breaths came hard, the weight of combat settling on his body.
One of the drowners thought it saw an opening and charged, its claws swiping at Ailin.
In a seamless motion, Ailin cut it down with a single stroke, severing it from shoulder to hip.
"Two left."
The second drowner hesitated, and in that moment of uncertainty, the remaining two turned and tried to flee into the dark waters of the stream.
But Ailin had anticipated this.
He sprinted between them, his blade flashing as he spun in the air.
The sword's arc drew a perfect, cruel circle—like the rising moon on a dark night, beautiful yet brutal.
Shhck!
Two bodies crumpled to the ground in a mess of blood and flesh, the dust from their fall stirring the air in muted clouds.
Ding!
Drowner Lv5 Pack Cleared!
Reward Assessment: Overcoming the Odds—Base Rating D, Overlevel Kill +3—C, Victory with Fewer Numbers +2—B-, Headshot Intimidation +3—A-, Main Quest +3—S-
Final Evaluation: S- (Double Rewards)
Loot Acquired: Drowner Heart Essence x16, Small Experience Gems x28, Drowner's Chest x10
Ailin's breath caught in his throat. S-! Double rewards! This was what he had been hunting for.
The 16 drowner heart essences alone would feed him for the next eight days.
As he lingered over the loot, the two witchers approached.
"Hahaha... Ailin, well done," Letho boomed, slapping him hard on the back. The pain made Ailin momentarily unsure if the gesture was a congratulation or some kind of twisted revenge from the sorceress.
Vesemir smiled too, crossing his arms in front of him. "Ailin, once you've mastered all your signs, you'll be a full-fledged witcher."
The praise from Vesemir brought a warm feeling to Ailin's chest, though he kept his response humble.
"It's nothing," he muttered. "I still have a lot to learn."
He glanced at Elsa, raising the sword with a wry smile. "I owe a lot to her."
"She's a beauty, no doubt," Vesemir agreed.