System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 155
A dim, dilapidated dwelling.
Four pairs of beast-like pupils glimmered with an unnatural light. Four Witchers sat around a Gwent board, mugs of beer heavy with malt and hops set within arm’s reach.
“Smack!”
The young Witcher slapped a Gwent card down hard onto the board, then bared his teeth in a grin at the hooded man opposite him.
“You lose.”
“Damn it!” Orin clawed at the back of his head in frustration. “Roy, tell me this straight. Did you lie about your age? Fourteen? You beat me, and twice in a row.”
“Unprecedented. A total defeat.”
After grumbling, Orin lifted his mug and drained it in loud gulps, wiped the foam from his mouth with his gray sleeve, then reluctantly drew a gleaming Gwent card from his coat.
“My precious hasn’t even warmed my hands yet, and you’ve already won it off me.”
“Now you know your place?” Letho mocked from the side, eyes full of scorn. “I warned you long ago, just drink and be done with it. You insisted on playing cards with this kid.”
“What do you know? Gwent shows a man’s character better than anything.” Orin snorted. “Hmph. Looks like the lad doesn’t know how to behave. No respect for his elders at all.”
He craned his neck stubbornly, staring Roy down.
“Listen carefully. Next round I’m taking it back. Kael, don’t you dare pull me away. We agreed on three rounds in rotation. What are you in such a hurry for? You won’t even let me vent a little?”
Roy smiled as he carefully put the Gwent card away. The card bore a familiar white-haired face, a character added to the decks by the Gwent Committee after the Blaviken Massacre years ago. Geralt of Rivia, that legendary Witcher. Where was he now?
The boy’s gaze shifted to the opposite side. Witcher Orin carried himself like a carefree, loudmouthed fool. Of course, it could be an act. After all, Roy had not known him long.
“Eighty-one years old, same age as Kael. Could it be that these two aren’t just brothers, but twins?”
Orin and Kael were comparable to Letho in attributes, still riddled with question marks. As seasoned Witchers, their combat strength far surpassed Roy’s. Aside from their differing appearances, their personalities could not have been more different.
Orin was warm, outgoing, and talkative. Kael was gloomy and silent, with a hooked nose and narrow eyes, as if he were forever turning schemes over in his mind.
“With personalities that contradictory, how did they manage to coexist for decades? Is blood really that binding among Witchers?”
“I almost forgot the real business.” Roy slapped his forehead and asked with some urgency. “Enough bickering, you two. How are Old Mole and Susan doing in Novigrad?”
“I thought you’d completely forgotten the old couple,” Orin shot him a sideways glance, and Roy showed a hint of embarrassment.
He really had neglected them. More than half a year apart, aside from a single letter, there had been no further contact.
“Relax, kid. Their vegetable stall in Novigrad is doing just fine. In fact, without you dragging them down, they’re living better than ever.”
“Is that so?” Roy let out a breath, relief crossing his face, mixed with an inexpressible sense of loss.
“They also asked me to bring you some good news. A surprise.” Orin looked at Roy with a half-smile, while his brother Kael’s gaze grew strange.
“What surprise?”
“Your dear mother Susan is two months pregnant. Next time you see them, you’ll have a little brother or sister.”
“Surprised?”
“Uh ... pregnant? A brother or sister?”
Roy’s brows knit together, his emotions twisting into a knot. He stood frozen for a full ten seconds.
Then he let out a long breath.
“I’m not there with them. The old couple all alone. Having another child to liven things up, what’s wrong with that?”
The three Witchers sensed something amiss. They exchanged glances and left him in silence for a few minutes. Then Letho spoke gently, trying to comfort him. “Kid, you have to understand one thing. Once you chose the Trial of the Grasses, you said farewell to a normal life.”
“The world you live in, the people you associate with, they are completely different from the past decade of your life. Your path will drift farther and farther from your parents’, until there is no intersection left at all.”
“You’re saying I’ll cut ties with them?” Roy asked, a flicker of anger mixed with confusion.
“It’s not a moral question. We’re destined to wander. By the time you want to settle down, Old Mole and his wife, living as ordinary people, will already be gone.”
Letho sighed.
“You’ll understand someday.”
Roy lowered his head and fell silent.
Orin slid a mug of beer in front of him. “There’s one more thing I need to add to what Letho said.”
He pressed down hard on the young Witcher’s shoulder. “Right now, the overall climate in the Northern Realms is still hostile toward Witchers. No exaggeration, if you keep showing up around your parents, it will seriously disrupt their normal lives.”
“We’re not forcing you to choose. You just need to be prepared. As far as I know, no child who became a Witcher ever truly returned to their original family.”
“It only ever ends in a clean break.”
...
“All right, let’s set Old Mole aside for now. Back to cards.”
Roy shook his head, scattering the turmoil in his mind. These were things he would have to verify himself in Novigrad someday, to face his own heart directly.
“Sorry, all of you. I’m not in the mood to keep playing.”
“Drink, then. A newcomer has to drink with us until he drops,” Kael said, glaring.
“Sure, but allow me to ask one question first.”
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