Bab 157: 158. The Death of the Cat.
There were no words, no conversation.
Allen and Brett, both Witchers, fought as if they had a blood feud, using every means possible to try to kill each other.
In the dimly lit room, the clash of swords sparked violently. As the intermittent light flickered in the dark room, Brett, who was gradually forming an image of his opponent in his mind, began to notice something strange. The opponent's shorter height was still within reason, but the fleeting glimpse of a youthful face and the pure, clear blue cat eyes...
The "veteran Wolf School Witcher" before him seemed very young, extremely young. It was almost as if... as if he had just passed the Trial of the Grasses. But how could that be... Brett shook his head slightly, leaning back to avoid the slashing silver sword.
Such skilled and refined swordsmanship, combined with the advanced use of signs, couldn't possibly be achieved without at least twenty or thirty years of training.
Even the legendary Witcher order, the Wolf School, couldn't produce someone like this so quickly. Moreover, such strength, speed, and agility...
Even the most gifted Witcher has limits to the enhancement of their physical capabilities through mutated organs. A Witcher who had just passed the Trial of the Grasses couldn't possibly possess such physical prowess.
Whoosh!
The silver sword cut through the air, slashing diagonally toward Brett's head. The Cat School Witcher sneered.
"Clumsy Wolf School swordsmanship!" he thought.
He could sense that his opponent was already restraining the instinct that Treyse referred to as the "clumsy spin."
"But since it's called an instinct, how could it truly be restrained?"
Brett's eyes flashed with a fierce light, his right foot pressing against the ground as the force swiftly traveled from his wrist to his sword.
Clang!
Clang! Clang!
The cold light flickered three times in succession, luring his enemy into opening his defenses. A great opportunity... Brett shouted in his heart, gripping his sword with both hands.
Whoosh!
The blade sliced through the air, striking the chest plate that had been left exposed due to the rapid succession of slashes.
Bang!
Another explosion sounded.
The golden light of a Quen shield shattering illuminated the enemy's youthful face.
"A face this young is perfect for assassination!"
Seeing the fleeting face illuminated by the light, a thought inexplicably popped into Brett's mind. However, the overwhelming force from the sword's tip quickly interrupted his reverie. It seemed that, in the next moment, Brett would have to dodge and retreat with a backflip, just as he had done the first time, forced to create distance. And then he would watch helplessly as the Wolf School Witcher renewed his Quen shield.
Eventually, this cycle would repeat until the Cat School Witcher succumbed to exhaustion due to his inferior constitution, or until reinforcements arrived.
But would things really be that simple?
With a slight tremor in his arm muscles to dissipate the force, Brett pressed himself against the wall just before the shockwave from the Quen shield explosion could hit him, avoiding the blast. Then, before the Wolf School Witcher could use the Quen sign again...
Brett quickly stepped forward twice, holding his sword with both hands as his rear hand subtly flicked his wrist. The slight force caused the blade aimed at his enemy's right shoulder to feint, as if it were an illusion.
Sure enough.
The Wolf School Witcher, following the sword's initial trajectory, swung his silver sword, deceived by the feint, striking only empty space. His entire body's center of gravity was thrown off at that moment.
"No cry of shock or scream?" Brett thought with a hint of regret.
This was his most prized technique, developed after dueling at least ten highly skilled knights in direct combat, based on the swordsmanship of the Cat School. The sudden change in the sword's target often left his opponents no time to react. Often, a split second of bewilderment was enough to determine life and death.
Though it seemed like a simple flick of the wrist. It required immense strength, nimble wrist control to swiftly change the sword's direction, and keen perception to locate the enemy's figure even in dim light.
This was Brett's ultimate understanding of the Cat School's killing swordsmanship, a technique that had even been praised by the Cat School grandmaster, Treyse.
Those old-fashioned Wolf School Witchers, who only knew how to hunt down dull monsters, would never understand...
The thrill of dancing on the edge of a blade during combat. It was more exhilarating, more pleasurable, than spending a night in the most expensive brothel on Rose Street in Ard Carraigh.
The only flaw in this technique was that the sudden change in direction resulted in a loss of power, leaving the thrust with only a sixth of its normal strength. But...
What did it matter?
Humans are such fragile creatures that the mere weight of a sword could kill them.
This Wolf School Witcher was doomed!
"Heh heh heh~"
A strange and cruel laugh echoed.
Brett's eyes glinted with cruel ferocity, his lips curling into an exaggerated grin. The sharp sword flickered once more before plunging straight toward the Wolf School Witcher's heart.
As Brett stared into the darkness before him, he was filled with an uncontrollable excitement. He knew that at the end of his sight was the Wolf School Witcher's indistinct face.
In his mind, he automatically filled in the blank face with the confused, panicked, and terrified expressions of those who had died under his blade in the past.
However, in the next moment.
A pair of blue, icy cat eyes suddenly lit up in the darkness.
The gaze that fell upon Brett was as cold as the pure white snow outside a winter caravan.
Damn it!
What's going on?
Brett suddenly felt a chill run through his body, his hair standing on end, a sudden and inexplicable sense of immense danger causing his teeth to chatter, his scalp to tingle. However, this bizarre scene did not slow the sword's thrust toward its target.
Even though the Wolf School Witcher had tried his best to dodge by turning sideways, the sharp blade still managed to pierce through the armor, tear through the flesh, and stab toward...
Wait, no!
That's not right!
"Impossible!"
Brett shouted in disbelief.
His ultimate technique, his sharp sword, after piercing through flesh, had... stopped. It was as if a dull blade had stabbed into tough leather...
"Impossible!"
Brett frantically tried to adjust the direction of his sword. But due to the enemy's sidestep, the blade slid along the flesh and armor, opening a wound before continuing toward the room's ceiling.
The next moment.
Brett was horrified to find...
That the Wolf School Witcher, whose strange blue cat eyes had suddenly flickered, had vanished!
His arm resisted the momentum of the missed sword strike, trying to retract the blade. His head turned sharply to the left, trying to locate the figure that had suddenly disappeared.
Then, Brett suddenly felt his head lighten, the strong scent of iron filled his nostrils, and his vision began to slowly rotate.
Then.
For a brief moment, he saw those icy blue, cold cat eyes again.
Found you!
He thought.
He tried to control his hands, tried to wield his sword, but to no avail. At that moment, he understood everything.
"Perhaps the Reaper has a pair of such beautiful eyes."
This was his last thought.
In the next moment, the Cat School Witcher, Brett, who had created a technique that even the Grandmaster of the Cat School admired, fell into eternal slumber.
Clang!
Allen sheathed Elsa back into the scabbard. The metallic scent of blood filled the air and surged into his nostrils. After using a Drowner's heart elixir to alleviate his fatigue from the hunt, Allen felt a wave of nausea rising from his stomach.
Since arriving in this world, it was the first time he had killed someone, and it was his own kind. But he did not regret it. He only regretted not using "Monster Hunt" earlier.
After all, if he had been a bit more careless, if he hadn't been so concerned about Hughes, Bond, and Fred's safety, and hadn't used Hunt to secure a quick victory, he might have died in this battle!
Allen lowered his head and instinctively touched the one-finger-long cut on his armor. He could feel that the wound on his chest wasn't too deep, only about a centimeter long and just as deep. But this was undoubtedly the closest Allen had ever come to death. If the strike had been just a bit stronger, if he hadn't had that ten-point elemental affinity to slow down the sword's thrust...
Or if he hadn't been in the Hunt state, where his cold, emotionless mindset prevented him from panicking after a momentary setback...
He wouldn't have been able to dodge in time, and that sword would have pierced his heart directly.
"The Cat School's swordsmanship is truly terrifying!"
Allen subconsciously glanced at the headless corpse on the ground.
With similar physical strength, the fierce and swift swordsmanship of the Cat School was indeed hard to defend against.
Compared to the dual-handed sword style of the Wolf School, Allen now truly experienced the agile and unpredictable nature of their swordsmanship.
"I wonder how Hughes and the others are doing right now?"
"If they encounter enemies as formidable as this Cat School Witcher..."
The thought made Allen's heart sink. He quickly cast a Quen shield on himself, drew his steel sword, and leaped onto the windowsill. The street outside the inn was deserted. However, the once bustling street, now shrouded in darkness, was eerily silent. Even the snores of the villagers had vanished, leaving only the curses, screams, and the clang of metal from within the inn echoing through the night.
Clearly, the disturbance in the inn had awakened the people of White Orchard.
Allen sighed inwardly, vaulted over the windowsill, and climbed onto the thatched roof of the inn. This was just a small inn in a village, with only six rooms on the second floor. The group of Wolf School Witchers occupied five rooms, with Allen and Vesemir at either end.
"Damn it, you're no Witcher apprentice! Who the hell are you?"
"And were you toying with me earlier? How has your swordsmanship improved so quickly in such a short time?"
As Allen walked along the thatched roof to the window of Hughes' room, he heard a furious, panicked curse from inside.
"It seems Hughes is fine," he thought as he peeked inside.
Clang!
Amid the clashing of swords, the Cat School Witcher cursed angrily. But Hughes didn't speak; instead, he responded with another strike of his sword. In the dimly lit room, it wasn't the Cat School Witcher who had the upper hand but Hughes. Allen was momentarily stunned by this sight but quickly understood.
Of course.
With Quen Sign at level 2, Wolf School Dual-Wielding at level 3, Cat Potion, and facing a Cat School Witcher whose swordsmanship was at most ten years out of "graduation," Hughes being victorious shouldn't be surprising.
"Unbeknownst to me, the little brat who used to follow me around seems to have started holding his own."
"But compared to Brett, this Cat School Witcher is really weak."
Allen sighed inwardly, feeling a bit relieved. It seemed his luck was indeed good!
Judging by the situation, the Cat School Witcher would likely fall under Hughes' blade in less than five minutes. However, Bond and Fred's situation was still unknown, and there was no sign of movement from Vesemir.
After a brief consideration, Allen decided not to wait for Hughes to finish off his opponent and instead jumped directly into the room.
Bang!
The hilt of his steel sword struck the back of the unnamed Cat School Witcher's head with lightning speed.
"Allen!"
Hughes was stunned for a moment. When he saw who it was, his eerie green Cat Eyes, caused by the potion, widened with joy. He knew that the reason he had been able to overpower the strange man in black was likely due to being under "The Witcher's Gaze."
Otherwise, how could his swordsmanship have improved so quickly during the fight?
"Allen, these people are..."
Before Hughes could finish his sentence, Allen raised his hand to cut him off and quickly assigned tasks.
"It's me. I'll check on Fred in the next room. You go directly to help Bond, and once the situation is resolved, meet us in Fred's room."
Hughes nodded seriously, following Allen out of the room, about to leave. Suddenly, Allen turned back with a stern expression: "Hughes! Remember what Master Vesemir always said? Don't show any mercy; treat these enemies like Drowners."
Hughes hesitated for a moment, glanced at the unconscious man in black on the ground, and nodded firmly. Then, the two Witchers of the Wolf School headed towards Fred's window.
Hughes continued ahead, while Allen cautiously peeked inside.
Bang
A flash of pale yellow light was followed by a light explosion. The man in black staggered slightly from the impact of the Quen shield breaking and then rushed forward again.
Clearly.
Fred's opponent was even weaker than Hughes'. Given Fred's mere seven points in Mysticism, the actual pushback from the broken shield would be even weaker, more like a light shove.
If it weren't for the Wolf School's dual-handed sword being somewhat ineffective against the Cat School's swordsmanship, Fred might have won already. But judging by the direction of the black-clad man's sword, every strike was aimed at non-lethal areas like arms, shoulders, and thighs.
"Could it be that there are factions within the Cat School too?"
"Is this Witcher one of those who have a favorable view of the Wolf School?"
As Allen pondered this, his hands didn't hesitate.
He kicked off the windowsill, landing directly behind the Cat School Witcher, and instead of using the hilt of his steel sword...
He delivered a powerful punch to the back of his head.
Thud~
The Cat School Witcher fell, slipping into a peaceful slumber. Allen had successfully rescued another teammate.
"Fred, let's go. We'll meet up with Hughes and Bond next door..."
Allen began to speak, ready to arrange for Fred to join them in finding Bond.
"Allen!"
Hughes' scream of agony echoed from outside the window.
Allen's heart sank.
Something had happened to Hughes and Bond!
....…
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159. How Do You Know My Name is Fredeca?
160. A New Beginning.
161. The Rage of Being Fooled.
162. A Bountiful Harvest.
163. Too Weak!
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