System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 110
For the next month Roy trained without distraction each day in swordsmanship and crossbow work, took his hormone treatments and drank a procession of strange potions; his days were hard and full.
Although he did not gain much experience, he made a step forward in excavating his own attributes, and his body began to acclimate to the toxins of the hormones; their effect on his temper and character gradually faded, and he even came to enjoy it, enjoying that tireless sensation of power.
He had a feeling something nested in his body—some cocoon, or rather a force silently gathering and growing.
Only after he completed the whole mutation process would the hidden thing break its shell and fully reveal itself.
...
After a month the Witcher raised the level of instruction.
In the courtyard Roy pressed his lips together, stood to attention, feet set shoulder-width apart.
“As usual, five guards to start, pair them with footwork, the basic cut, thrust, draw-cut; run them through...”
Hearing this the boy snapped his left foot forward, toe pointing ahead, his right foot turned outward forty-five degrees.
A simple posture, yet everywhere full of subtlety: the torso upright, weight between the legs, feet in a T-step so balance held in every direction; knees slightly bent for easy, fluid limb motion; the whole body relaxed so the shoulder would not stiffen and throw off a cut.
He placed the hilt toward his rear foot, the blade below his right hip slanted upward, the point fixed at the Witcher’s throat.
The sword and body formed the shape of a plough.
A cold light flashed in Roy’s eyes as the blade slashed from right to left in a brisk diagonal; his right foot stepped forward, a change of stance making a new lead foot.
One cut done, the training sword flowed to the left hip to form the Plow Guard (Pflug).
...
Then the boy demonstrated the Roof Guard (Vom Tag), the Ox Guard (Ochs), the Low Guard (Alber), the Tail Guard (Nebenhut) in turn. The five guards shifted between each other as he ran Cut, Thrust and Draw Cut, his motions so precise one could measure them with a ruler.
“Good, you haven’t been slacking.” The Witcher nodded with approval, then asked, “Remember what I said? Why teach only Fundamentals, not specific Techniques?”
“For ordinary humans a Witcher must be much more nimble; the most basic sword moves are enough to bring them down...” the boy answered in a clear voice.
It made sense: when your physical quality utterly crushes an opponent, the simplest moves are the most efficient and lethal.
“When facing Monsters, flashy swordsmanship is useless. What decides life or death are speed, strength, experience and on-the-spot reaction!”
Five standard guards, basic footwork, and fundamental techniques are enough for a sword-wielding Witcher to fully exploit his physical advantages.
There is no need to dwell on advanced skills such as blade awareness, binding, or disarming.
After all, most of a Witcher’s quarry are Monsters.
“What is the focus of swordsmanship?” Letho began to test his theory.
“Don’t simply parry!” Roy answered crisply, “You must strike in the same motion as the parry, or use the opponent’s force to follow through with a counter.”
“And when facing a powerful monster,” the boy paused, “do not try to parry...”
Witcher words flashed in his head—no matter how strong, no one can stop a Dracolizard’s tail, a Griffin’s talons, or a Giant Scorpion’s pincer with a single sword.
“Use dodge and roll to replace all blocks.”
...
“Face me, watch my movement and posture, the way my muscles run ... now before you stands an Alghoul—”
The Witcher, clad in dark, glossy leather, crouched like a monster, limbs on the ground.
The boy across from him took up the Witcher’s cue and began to describe the creature as he stepped, moving laterally with alternating steps.
“An Alghoul, a kind of ghoul, resembles a ghoul but much larger, with three bony crests on the skull, immense strength and quick reflexes; fleeing it is suicide; its fangs are as hard as steel, cannot be met head-on, its weakness—”
His words cut off.
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