Kapitel 267: 268. Offensive and Defensive Reversal.
When Allen first learned the Quen sign, the shield was weak due to his unfamiliarity with it. But now, with Vesemir's power, even if Allen stood still and let him strike, it would take at least four or five hits to break the shield.
Of course.
Allen would also need to land two or three hits to break Vesemir's Quen shield.
After all, the sign was designed to withstand the monstrous strength of giant beasts. If a Witcher, who is far weaker than a giant beast, could break it, what's the point?
So, even in a real sword fight, a Witcher can ensure their safety.
"Is this to test my control over my strength?"
If you don't understand, just ask.
"Why not just use real swords?" Allen asked curiously.
Vesemir paused, then rolled his eyes irritably: "You use the sacred sword Balmur, and I use a regular steel sword?"
"How would that even be a fair match?"
The Witcher fell silent for a few seconds.
True.
He almost forgot that Vesemir had only swapped his silver sword, and his steel sword was just an ordinary one.
As for Allen's Balmur-replaced steel sword, it was sold to the Kuhn family's merchant ship for two hundred Orens. But honestly, Allen still hadn't tried out Balmur yet...
"Don't worry, I noticed right when I came here..." Vesemir swung the wooden staff, making a "whoosh" sound as it cut through the air. "Behind the library, this whole area is full of ancient red pines, and they've been growing here for a long time."
"These are among the hardest trees on the Northern Continent."
"So go ahead and use your full strength; these two wooden staves won't break that easily."
"Of course..." Vesemir made a triangle with his thumb and index finger in the air in front of him, and a faint golden glow flashed, "In any battle, always first cast..."
"Quen..." Allen finished the sentence smoothly, then withdrew his right hand, which had just cast the sign, and gripped the long staff.
A slightly brighter golden light flashed across his body, more radiant than the one surrounding Vesemir. Seeing that the Witcher wasn't reaching for his potion pouch, Vesemir curiously asked, "Aren't you going to try your new potion?"
"No rush..." Allen twisted his wrist, twirling the staff like a sword. "First, let's test my sword skills."
Then, with a thought, he assessed the Witcher master.
[Name: Vesemir]
[Attributes: Strength 53, Agility 57, Constitution 69, Perception 70, Mysticism 42]
He then opened his own character panel.
[Name: Allen]
[Attributes: Strength 51, Agility 42, Constitution 58, Perception 47, Mysticism 59]
In a sword match against Vesemir, of course, he wouldn't use the Monster Hunt. But with these attribute differences...
Maybe I can win!
Allen thought, but it would require some clever tactics.
Let's first test the sword... Vesemir clicked his tongue upon hearing Allen's words. He accurately picked up on the hidden—no—almost blatantly obvious arrogance in that statement.
'My apprentice thinks that after just half a year out in the world, he can beat me...'
The Witcher master narrowed his dark gold cat-like eyes, staring at Allen, much like an alpha wolf eyeing a daring challenger. Though Vesemir had to admit that in some aspects of hunting monsters, Allen indeed surpassed him.
But...
But!
He was not a monster, not one of those brainless creatures that only attacked by instinct. Over a hundred years since he completed the high mountain training, the number of battles he had fought was more than the amount of salt Allen had eaten.
The blood of the monsters and bandits who died by his sword could drown the entire fortress of Kaer Morhen. Their corpses could pile up into mountains. What gave Allen the courage to think he could defeat him without using some fancy potions...
No...
Even if he did use them, I would still win in the end!
I definitely would!
"Then let's try!"
The four simple words were filled with killing intent. Allen's keen senses made his hair stand on end as he quickly closed the character panel. His gaze locked onto the Witcher master's fierce, wolf-like eyes. His ten fingers loosened and tightened, as he quietly exhaled.
Their gazes clashed as if they were about to spark.
At that moment.
The wind stopped.
A few dark green pine needles drifted down from the azure sky, landing right between the two witchers, at the exact moment their gazes crossed.
"Bang!"
The air between them compressed into a gust of wind, sending the pine needles flying back into the sky at several times their previous speed. A clear clash was followed by three consecutive hits.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Allen and Vesemir moved like mirror images of each other, their movements almost identical as they swung their staves. Even the difference in where their wooden staves collided was less than a millimeter. Then they both stepped back, spun, and struck again!
"Bang!"
Another spinning slash followed.
The fresh green grass on the ground was flattened and crushed, leaving behind trails of green juice. They repeated this for four rounds. Both of them maintained almost the exact same footwork, staff angles, and attack locations.
It seemed like they could never decide the winner.
But was that really the case?
At least Allen didn't think so, because he could feel that Vesemir...
Was speeding up!
His strikes were becoming faster and his footwork tighter.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
-------------------------
Gradually, the usually calm and expressionless Witcher master, like a towering Blue Mountain, was moving slowly, steadily, but irresistibly, trying to crush him bit by bit. This immense pressure that made it hard to breathe was something Allen had never experienced when hunting monsters alongside Vesemir before.
'I can't keep going like this!' Allen thought, forcefully parrying one of the master's fierce attacks.
"A difference of more than ten points in agility, constitution, and perception is just too much..."
Although their strength was equal, the high-speed strikes brought by Vesemir's superior agility were making it difficult for Allen to defend. The difference in perception wasn't helping either; it wasn't just that he couldn't find an opportunity to counterattack, he was constantly being hit in his weakest spots. At this rate, if things continued for five more rounds, he would definitely lose.
"I need a different approach!"
Thinking this, Allen's eyes glanced ever so slightly, catching Vesemir's spinning movement. Then, he pretended to use all his strength to parry Vesemir's staff, as he had done previously.
He naturally stepped back.
Then, suddenly, his right calf muscles tensed, and his right foot stomped down, sending clumps of dark soil and grass flying backward. But not a sound was made.
As if all the force had been absorbed by the soil and Allen's body.
At the same time, The massive recoil propelled Allen forward, and in just two steps, he was right in front of Vesemir. The tip of his staff aimed straight for the Witcher master's heart.
In that instant, Allen could even see Vesemir's dark gold, leopard-like pupils slightly dilate, seemingly surprised by the sudden change in his movements.
But then, Vesemir calmly pulled back his staff, casually preparing to block the strike.
"Too hasty!" Vesemir thought.
Then, looking at the young witcher's chest, Vesemir knew that as long as he could block this strike, Allen, with his guard wide open, would be struck in the heart by the returning swing of his staff.
However...
In the next moment...
As Vesemir's staff reached the position...
It was now... Allen held his breath, his blue cat-like pupils suddenly dilating, and with a shake of his wrist, he held his sword in both hands.
The tip of the staff, which was about to pierce the witcher master's heart, feinted like a goat's horns hanging in the air, almost brushing against Vesemir's staff near his chest. Quietly, it changed direction.
The Wrist Thrust!
This was an advanced technique unlocked after reaching level 5 in the Cat School's dual-handed sword skills. Since he usually fought against various monsters, this was the first time Allen had used it in real combat since acquiring it.
The tip of the staff pierced the air, aiming straight for Vesemir's protruding Adam's apple.
"I've won!"
Allen's lips curled slightly.
But the next second...
Vesemir's body suddenly grew two centimeters taller, like a bamboo shooting upward.
"Ah!"
Allen gasped as the tip of his staff hit the collar of Vesemir's Wolf School master armor. Due to the force of the wrist thrust being weakened by more than half, the staff tip was caught in the iron rings of the chainmail.
It couldn't advance or retreat.
The Quen sign on Vesemir's body flickered faintly.
Not good!
Allen realized it was bad, but it was too late. Vesemir twisted his wrist, then thrust forward, landing a heavy blow on Allen's leather armor.
Golden light flashed violently.
"I lost!" Allen, not one to be stubborn, admitted defeat decisively. However, he was a bit puzzled.
How had Vesemir thought of suddenly increasing his height by a small margin?
It wasn't as simple as just standing on his toes.
On one hand, it was sudden—the entire process from the staff's movement to the strike couldn't have taken more than a tenth of a second. The attacker needs time to react, time to come up with a solution, and even time to make their body respond.
Adding these factors together, this tiny movement should have been nearly impossible.
Unless...
"Of all things to learn, why would you choose the garbage Cat School techniques!"
Vesemir frowned deeply. He forcefully tapped Allen's chest with his staff.
The Quen shield flashed again.
The witcher master seemed deeply displeased with Allen's use of the dirty sword techniques from the Cat School instead of the orthodox dual-handed swordsmanship of the Wolf School.
No!
Not just displeased—more than that, it was pure disgust, as if Allen had just crawled out of a cesspool.
Vesemir truly hated the Cat School...
Once again, Allen confirmed this truth, and then curiously asked:
"Master Vesemir, how did you just..."
"Haven't I told you before?" Vesemir retrieved his staff and planted it in the ground. "I almost died at the hands of a Cat School piece of trash once."
"So for years, I kept thinking about how to deal with their despicable swordsmanship."
As he emphasized the word despicable , Vesemir looked at Allen with a face full of disappointment.
"This... isn't necessary, is it?" Allen, unaccustomed to being looked at like garbage by the witcher master, changed the topic: "And you figured it out?"
Vesemir nodded, speaking with some disdain: "Those Cat School trash techniques, derived from the school's swordsmanship, most of their so-called advanced techniques are flashy nonsense."
"They all sacrifice strength and speed to deceive their opponent's eyes and body."
"So this shameless swordsmanship works well against unprepared regular people."
"But when facing monsters favored by magic, well-prepared witchers, or fully-equipped knights, they become nothing more than court jesters..."
Before he could finish, Allen sighed inwardly.
The Cat School was nearly extinct, yet Vesemir still took every chance to throw insults at them, not even letting them rest in peace...
Vesemir truly harbored deep resentment against the Cat School!
"...Just like that strike you made earlier..." Vesemir continued his critique, "Anyone who reacts in time can easily dodge it."
"If it weren't for the fact that the strength behind your staff was greatly reduced..."
Vesemir pointed at the spot on his chainmail where Allen had just struck.
"That thrust wouldn't have been blocked. If you'd used a real sword, there's a good chance you would've severely injured your opponent—or at least left them with no chance to counterattack..."
But without that technique, I wouldn't have had a chance to land a hit...
Allen thought to himself.
Vesemir really was, apart from him, the youngest witcher master. His strength was indeed formidable.
Vesemir continued to lecture Allen about his Cat School techniques for quite a while. It wasn't until the sun hung high in the sky and faint noises began to come from the library that Vesemir seemed to suddenly remember something. He glanced at the time and said: "Aren't you going to test the effects of the potions? Time's running out, let's get going!"
Finally, Allen's ears were freed, and he let out a sigh of relief.
"Clink~"
With a soft clink of glass bottles, Allen took out a red and a blue potion under Vesemir's curious gaze. Without hesitation, he gulped both of them down in one go.
Less than a second later, the veins on Allen's temples slightly bulged, and dark blue veins spread outward from his eyes. His sclera gradually turned a pale icy blue.
However, Vesemir, unlike Lysa, didn't react in alarm. Instead, he watched Allen's transformation with interest, sensing the faint shift in his aura and strength. It was no wonder, really. After all, the Wolf School used to have a potion called Witcher's Elixir.
Now that potion's effects were extreme.
The drinker would turn deathly pale.
Their pupils and sclera would turn pitch black like a demon's. Their entire body would bulge with black, centipede-like veins. Compared to that, Allen's transformation was practically mild.
"What do these two potions do?" Vesemir asked curiously.
After setting the empty bottles aside, Allen wiped his mouth with his right hand, smirked, and glanced provocatively at the witcher master: "Why don't you try and find out?"
Vesemir blinked in surprise, then let out a chuckle, shaking his head helplessly. He took two steps back, pulled the staff out of the ground, and casually swung it a couple of times to shake off the dirt.
Without warning or any further words, he stomped the ground and spun, aiming a fierce blow at Allen's head.
"Whoosh~"
The staff sliced through the air, making a whooshing sound. It was only when the staff was half a meter away from the young witcher that Vesemir's voice reached his ears: "Then let's try it!"
"Bang!"
A soft thud followed.
A faint golden glow flickered across Allen's crimson leather armor.
"Huh?"
The witcher master stood bewildered, staring at the empty field in front of him, his hands grasping nothing but air.
"Whoosh~"
"Ssshh!"
A wooden staff suddenly plunged into the dirt at an angle...
....
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269. The Spirit-Summoning Ritual.
270. Yennefer Doesn't Feel Pain at All.
271. A Dying Man.
272. The May Festival King.
273. One Wave After Another.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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Rangliste 
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