System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 179
A pale wash of dawn showed in the eastern sky. At that hour when night and day exchanged places, all things slept, and the earth still struggled beneath the dark.
More than a thousand meters above the ground, a conical ram slowly emerged from behind the clouds. Then the vast shadow revealed itself in full, a gigantic sailing ship, gliding above the cloudbank. On the triangular sail at its center were painted two crossed blades.
A hooded man stood on the pointed prow on one foot, like a helmsman guiding the vessel.
Two swords were strapped across his back, and behind them, a hand crossbow.
He looked down below. Across the boundless plain, all manner of creatures from myth and legend were throwing back their heads and crying out.
Dragons breathing fire, Giants swinging ancient trees, mammoths of the plains charging with tusks lowered, flickering Elementals shifting in and out of sight...
A hard wind struck his face and threw back his hood, revealing a face far too young.
“The wind’s rising...”
The moment the words left his mouth, the sky ahead split open with an abyssal rift, and the white ship plunged into it.
The wind in the void grew stronger, sharper, like steel needles scraping across the face and biting into flesh.
“Hiss ... that hurts!”
Roy groggily opened his eyes. A dream? Some grotesque, impossible dream?
When his unfocused pupils narrowed at last, he found a snow-white little face right in front of him. Green eyes wide, mouth hanging open, staring at him like a fool.
She seemed badly frightened. Both her little hands were still clamped tight on the Witcher’s cheeks, frozen in place.
“Ciri...” Roy’s face darkened. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Ah!” The small girl sprang back with startling nimbleness and darted behind the other Witcher, then peeked out with half her face showing. “Don’t blame me, Roy, this is your fault! You were sleeping like a pig and wouldn’t wake up. I was only trying to wake you ... yes ... wake you up!”
“I’ll let it slide this time...” Roy rose to his feet in a crackle of popping bones and joints, then looked around warily. Behind him stretched a vast woodland. Before him lay flat open country. The sun already stood bright overhead, the light almost harsh enough to sting, and he narrowed his eyes. “But next time I catch you being naughty, don’t expect mercy. For now, tell me what happened, and where we are.”
“Huh? I woke up first. You two useless louts were still out cold ... but Lady Esna said a wager was a wager, and let us go.” Ciri pressed a hand to her chest and let out a long breath. “She sent a squad of Dryad sisters to escort us here, to the eastern border of Brokilon Forest.”
She waved her little fist with no small pride. Geralt reached over and ruffled her mouse-gray hair.
Roy rubbed at his throbbing brow. The poison of the Water of Brokilon had mostly been digested by his body. In his status, only an almost transparent poisoned marker remained.
But in truth, his thoughts were still caught in the dream from before.
“What is it, Roy? You still look like you haven’t fully recovered. Feeling unwell? Or did you see something strange in your dream?”
Arms folded across his chest, Geralt spoke with the tone of a man who knew this from experience. “After drinking the Water of Brokilon, most people see things, shards of the past, projections of the future. Things they long for, things that excite them, things they cannot let go of ... even things they fear. If you feel like talking, there are two qualified listeners right in front of you. Isn’t that right, you little girl?”
Ciri nodded at once, eyes full of expectation.
“My dream was strange, utterly illogical. But were those scenes from before just hallucinations, or glimpses of the future?”
That flying ship, could it have been the white vessel the Wild Hunt used to cross time and space? And why would he be aboard it?
Those monstrous creatures below, huge as hills, certainly did not belong to the world of the Witcher. Then what world had it been?
“Give me a moment, both of you. I need to clear my head.”
There were too many tangled threads to sort through at once. So Roy simply sank his mind into the Template and revealed the great mass of scarlet text.
“You have drunk Brokilon Water infused with Blood of the Sun; Willpower and Spirit +1...”
Roy
Age: 14 years 7 months
Identity: Viper School Witcher, Knight of Lake Vizima
HP: 130/151 (Poisoned)
Mana: 150 → 160
Attributes:
Strength: 9.3
Agility: 10.3
Constitution: 11.1
Perception: 8
Willpower: 9.5 → 10.5
Charisma: 7
Spirit: 11 → 12
Skills:
Carnage LV5: Your proficiency in slaughter and combat has reached a new threshold, enhancing lethality and psychological pressure in battle.
Intimidation (Evolved Trait): By actively releasing a killing aura, you can intimidate one, several, or all targets within a 1m → 2m radius, forcing a Willpower check. Targets with lower Willpower than yours will lose control for up to 2 seconds. Cooldown: 4 minutes.
His Intimidate, once limited to a single target, had become a group Intimidate.
That was essentially one more breakout skill.
And he had also gained a crucial piece of information. When a skill reached level 5, and the attribute tied to that skill reached 10 points, the skill would undergo a stage of evolution.
“The next skill to evolve ... hm, should be Meditation.”
He kept reading.
Your Aen Elle Bloodline has evolved.
In the Skill Template, the elven racial gift Grace of the Wind had quietly disappeared, replaced by another ability.
Elder Blood (Passive Trait): The oldest Bloodline of the Aen Elle. Those who inherit it possess all manner of inconceivable powers. But your Bloodline is exceedingly thin, granting only a small number of immature abilities, and those remain beyond your control.
“Thin?” Roy frowned, a trace of disappointment rising in him. After all that effort, had it only borne an unripe fruit and raised two attributes?
“No. Even if I cannot use the Elder Blood, the Template can’t?”
His gaze shifted lower and abruptly found an altered class trait.
Mount: Bind a Mount you have tamed. You will gain a mental connection with it, allowing better communication. You may also consume 100 → 50 Mana to summon it instantly from afar to your side.
A Mount differs from a weapon. You may dismiss it at any time and return it to freedom.
Currently bound: brown horse Vyrt.
This trait draws upon the thin Elder Blood within you, enhancing its spatial capacity.
You may now also consume 50 Mana to Teleport to your Mount’s side.
...
His dark gold pupils contracted.
“So that means ... I can already travel through space?”
That meant that with a thought, he could return to Cintra in an instant, to the stable where the brown horse Vyrt was kept.
What mattered more to him, though, was the strategic value of the ability.
For instance, if he were trapped in a hopeless situation, activate the teleport at once. It was nothing less than a peerless escape art.
At the cost of 50 Mana, he could use it three times in succession. It would do nicely for travel as well.
“If even class traits can benefit from the Elder Blood, then...”
Roy’s eyes moved to the experience bar.
Witcher LV5 (3080/2500)
Now that he had safely come through the greatest danger in Brokilon, there was no reason to hold back any longer.
The moment he focused on the “+”, a surge of heat flooded through every limb and organ, and the lingering poison from the Water of Brokilon was cleansed away at once.
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