System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 83
The wide plain, a light breeze brushing the smoking villages in the distance, carried on to a low ridge and dropped at the side of a merry little stream, a waterfall’s trickle.
Golden sunlight picked out a bare buttock.
Its owner, a half-clad boy, doubled over clutching his belly, face pale, vomiting into the brook until his stomach was empty; only clear water came up.
As he puked he glared viciously at the bald Letho, who lay with his hands propping his neck, eyes shut and pretending to nap on the grass. Letho likewise wore very little, a pair of breezes between his legs; like a winter bear he seemed utterly unconcerned by the cold.
“You haven’t puked enough yet ... tch, you can really drink ... even a tipsy Dwarf would bow to you...” Roy rolled his eyes at the taunt, “Ugh ... it’s not my fault ... ugh...”
“That’s no lie, I did save you...” the Witcher replied.
The mine pool had been deep and long; Roy had nearly blacked out holding his breath. Fortunately the Witcher, arriving later, had dived out beside him, powered by a fierce single-leg swim.
Letho tossed back one more line, “We’re even now, yeah.”
They kindled a fire to dry their damp bodies and found a plank to re-splint the Witcher’s leg, fashioning a crude crutch.
The boy sat by the flames and sank his mind into the Template.
Roy Age: 13 years, 11 months Status: Commoner, Witcher apprentice HP: 55 Attributes: Strength: 5 Agility: 5.1 → 6.1 Constitution: 5.5 Perception: 7 Willpower: 6 → 6.5 Charisma: 5 → 6 Spirit: 6.5 Skills: Carnage LV4 Scry LV2 Meditation LV2 Crossbow Mastery LV1 Grace of the Wind (Passive Trait) Class: Witcher LV4 (600/2000) Stage: Apprentice (Next Stage: Survive one Trial of the Grasses and hunt 7/10 types of magical creatures to advance to Novice Witcher.) School: Viper (Pending — Viper School Mutagenic Potions have not yet been administered.) Class traits: Primary Attribute: locked to Willpower. Each level up grants Willpower +0.5 automatically (Apprentice Stage). Bound Weapons: Hand crossbow — Gabriel (upgraded), Steel sword — Gwyhyr (upgraded), Silver sword — none. Full Restoration ... Loot Satchel: 2 cubic. Remaining: 1 attribute point, 1 Skill Point...
This trip into Smaerk Mine had yielded far more than expected.
First, he’d gained a sliver of Aen Elle lineage, becoming one-quarter Elven; the racial trait granted +1 Agility and +1 Charisma. His sensitivity to magic in Meditation had improved.
Second, Witcher level rose lv3 → lv4; Primary Attribute Willpower increased by 0.5 automatically.
He hadn’t planned to lock Willpower as his Primary Attribute, but in the instant between death and level up his subconscious chose.
Among Witcher Letho’s attributes, apart from Charisma, Willpower was near the bottom at only 10 points, which suggested how hard it was to raise.
Moreover Willpower affected the melee skill Intimidate. If he kept hunting monsters and raised Carnage, Willpower would have far broader uses, not only Intimidate. The attribute description even hinted that reaching a certain level could affect reality itself; that prospect excited him.
Also, to survive the Trial of the Grasses one needed resolute will to live, so though surprised, he was not displeased by the Primary Attribute choice.
Roy thought long and decided to allocate resources before the Trial of the Grasses to Constitution and Willpower. After all, Witcher had promised that if his body met requirements, his Mutagenic Potions could use extracts from high-level monsters like Ancient Leshen; he wanted to strive for that.
Choosing how to spend the remaining 1 attribute point and 1 Skill Point was easy — boost Constitution and Meditation. Raising Meditation would add +0.5 Constitution and +0.5 Spirit, so overall +1.5 Constitution and +0.5 Spirit.
But this mine trip had already raised more than two attribute points; he planned to wait and adapt before applying the rest.
Roy was about to check his bound weapons for any change after leveling when his ears pricked. He stamped out the fire and, supporting the Witcher, slipped into the nearby dry grass.
A moment later two farmhands carrying pitchforks swaggered over, shoulders close and heads together.
One, eyes bright, said,
“Ye see that show last night, eh? By Melitele!, that dancer lass had a waist on her ye could snap like a dry twig. Face smooth as a bairn’s arse, like some bloody angel dropped out the sky. Ah still cannae credit summat that gorgeous came frae they manky travelling elves.”
“Sea Scorpion’s Enigma, ye daft prick,” the other farmer growled, puffing his chest out like a prize cockerel. “An’ it’s no’ just ‘dancin’’, it’s highwire dancin’—Master Balancer Aveline, no less. Proper job. City folk pay good coin for that. You’d not ken art if it shat in yer porridge.”
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