System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 146
The cool lake water of early morning gradually swallowed his ankles, and the world before his eyes began to change.
Fog rose suddenly over the lake. The clear water and the sky blurred into a single gray expanse. Soft, damp mist brushed his cheeks, his limbs, his skin. It felt as if his body were being washed clean from the inside out, leaving him more relaxed and refreshed than he had ever been.
Then a voice, gentle as flowing water, sounded from deep within his heart. It drifted nearer and farther, as if it came from the edge of the sky, and yet as if it were right before him.
“Roy, this way...”
The voice carried the warmth of a mother’s quiet murmur against his back in childhood, and also the soft laughter of a lover whispering close after rain and clouds had passed.
Without realizing it, he moved deeper.
The water rose past his thighs, his waist, his abdomen. Then, within the hazy fog ahead, a slender, graceful silhouette slowly took shape.
The mist was too dense to make out her features. Her supple wrists moved with the rhythm of rippling water, reaching toward him again and again.
He quickened his steps toward her. The lake reached his chest. Yet just as he drew close to that graceful figure, his vision blurred, and her fragrant trace vanished without a sound.
He looked left and right, then suddenly felt a cool touch slide across his back. As he turned, the scent of narcissus drifted before him.
“Roy...”
Within that soft, sticky whisper, she plunged into the lake, twisting her slender waist as she glided through the water with languid grace, like a beautiful mermaid.
The Witcher felt as if ten thousand ants crawled across his bones. His whole body shuddered, gooseflesh rising at once.
“This is the Lady of the Lake?”
After his vague encounter with the goddess Melitele, he had always believed that most gods were lofty beings, distant, untouchable, and not to be profaned.
Yet this “goddess” behind him shattered that impression completely, seductive, fervent, unrestrained...
Still, his formidable Willpower pulled him free from the wavering stirrings of his heart.
A silvery laugh rang out. His vision flickered, and at last the mysterious Lady of the Lake revealed her true form.
Beneath dark green hair that spilled over her fragrant shoulders was a sweet, innocent smiling face.
That palm-sized face held a delicate nose, gemlike, pure eyes, and petal-soft lips.
Exquisite, like a work of art.
The skin of her cheeks was smooth as silk, as soft and fine as a newborn’s, carrying a faint scent of narcissus.
Yet beneath that refined face were a long neck and high, swelling curves. Dark green hair falling past her collarbones and the drifting mist concealed her body, draping her in a splendid veil.
Innocence and allure, two contradictory qualities, blended within her, forming a beauty that struck straight at the heart.
“A goddess? She looks more like a temptress...”
The young Witcher drew a deep breath. At arm’s length, he took in the breathtaking figure of the Lady of the Lake, while his dark-gold pupils grew deeper.
Viviane Age: 353
Identity: Lady of the Lake / Nymph
(The legendary “Lady of the Lake” does not refer to a single individual, but to a collective of nymphs. Lake nymphs are elves shaped by nature itself, beings who preside over water. They do not suffer illness or age with time, though they can be slain. By nature, they are benevolent. They advocate the Five Virtues of Knighthood and are willing to offer aid to those of good heart. At the same time, they are free-spirited and passionate, and may choose a favored knight, one who has endured their exacting trials, to remain by their side.)
??? (Perception too low. Unable to obtain further information.)
...
Roy steadied his restless emotions. The Lady of the Lake was less a god than a group of immensely powerful magical creatures.
When he had stood before Melitele, he had been like an ant facing the sea, utterly powerless. The Lady of the Lake was still unfathomable, yet she did not give him that same feeling.
She could command the waters and grant strength to her devotees, but she lacked the unbearable, blinding divinity that could not be looked upon.
“Honored Lady of the Lake...” Roy suppressed the lingering allure in his chest and bowed slightly, his manner as respectful as he could manage. “May I ask why you have summoned me, and what you require?”
A flicker of surprise passed through the Lady of the Lake’s azure eyes, as if she had not expected the Witcher to regain his composure so quickly.
“Roy of Lower Posada,” her voice shifted again, becoming as warm and familiar as that of a girl next door. “You may call me Viviane, daughter of Lake Vizima. Through Qike’s eyes, I saw the convictions surging within you, and I took note of the justice of your actions this time.”
As she spoke, Viviane extended her hand toward the Witcher. He hesitated for a moment, then gently took her soft fingers.
In an instant, his whole body trembled. The experiences of more than half a year since he had crossed into this world flowed across his vision like running water, and five of them were marked in Elder Speech.
“squaess, Compassion. You spent the favor owed by the dwarf wine merchant to help Kascja escape the mill and join Aretuza.”
“ymladda, Valor. You faced the reborn Ancient Leshen head-on and slew it.”
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