"Monster 'Water Wraith' Lv2 Defeated!"
"Reward Summary: Victory against the foe grants a base rating of D; Over-level kill +1—D+; Decapitation's Intimidation +3—C+; Main Quest +3—B+"
"Final Rating: B+"
"Loot Acquired: Essence of Water Wraith's Heart, 10 Minor Experience Orbs, 4 Water Wraith Treasure Chests."
A torrent of information flooded Eilin's mind, ringing like a school bell—ding, ding, ding!
The instant his [Monster Hunting] skill drained his stamina, the world around him blurred, and darkness engulfed him as he collapsed onto the water wraith's corpse.
After what felt like an eternity, he pulled himself up, struggling against the fatigue that enveloped him.
Vesemir stood just a step away, his face a mask of indifference.
"This must be revenge!" Eilin thought, panic clawing at his chest.
The training ground was only eight or nine meters from the edge.
With his mastery, Vesemir could have covered that distance with ease before Eilin hit the ground, but he did not.
"Eilin... how did you do that?"
A voice of astonishment broke through, and both Eilin and Vesemir turned to find Letho, bewildered, holding the severed head of the water wraith.
To slay a water wraith with a steel sword was nearly impossible, and to do so by decapitation?
The creature's layers—the skin, muscle, and bone—were each shielded by chaotic magic.
Only a silver sword could weaken or even bypass these defenses.
A steel sword? Decapitation?
This wasn't just beyond an apprentice's reach; even for someone with thirty years of experience like Letho, it was an unimaginable feat.
Curious onlookers among the Witchers hurried to witness Eilin's remarkable display of strength.
The headless corpse continued to spout dark blood, pooling on the ground.
As Eilin absorbed the collective shock from those around him, it dawned on him just how extraordinary his achievement had been.
Yet he found himself trapped in another dilemma—how to sidestep Letho's probing question?
Just as panic threatened to set in, a deep voice cut through the thick tension.
"Letho, a Witcher and an apprentice are not the same."
The crowd parted slightly to reveal the speaker.
"In the early records of the school, it is noted that apprentices who perfectly mutate during the herbal trial have a slim chance of awakening the Witcher's Eye."
"The bearer can discern the flow of chaotic magic within a monster's body."
As the identity of the newcomer registered, the surrounding Witchers bowed their heads in respect, murmuring:
"Chief."
"Good morning, Chief."
The man known as the Chief nodded in acknowledgment.
He had long black hair and a pale complexion, with rare gray cat-like eyes that seemed to hold the essence of the eternal snow on the Blue Mountains.
To Eilin, this man embodied the spirit of Kaer Morhen.
Though peculiar, that was his immediate impression.
The idea of possessing a Witcher's Eye capable of seeing the flow of chaotic magic—wasn't that a game mechanic?
The Chief regarded Eilin with approval, then cast a glance at Letho, who still held the ghastly trophy, remarking blandly, "Letho, even after passing the mountain trial, the pursuit of knowledge cannot cease."
A sheen of cold sweat broke out on Letho's brow as he eagerly nodded, like a student caught unprepared for a question:
"Of course, Chief! Once I finish with these apprentices, I'll head to the library."
Vesemir raised an eyebrow, perplexed.
"Aren't the apprentices my responsibility to teach?"
"Relax, Letho. I've got it covered with the apprentices; you go on ahead," Vesemir said, a rare neutrality in his tone.
Letho's face fell, humor mingling with indignation.
Feeling the gaze of the Chief once again, he quickly changed the subject.
"Vesemir, was there an agreement between you and Eilin just now?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, nearly twenty pairs of eyes fixed sharply upon Vesemir.
The corners of Vesemir's lips twitched involuntarily.
The attention now directed at him left Eilin hastily retorting, "No, no! It was just a joke!"
At Eilin's response, Vesemir's expression lightened significantly.
He unclasped the sword from its armor, gradually drawing "Elsa," the cherished silver blade, from its sheath. He cast a lingering glance at the magnificent weapon before extending it to Eilin.
Then, turning to the apprentices, he declared, "Apprentices, let's teach you one last lesson."
"A Witcher of the Wolf School values promise above life itself."
His voice rang out like a war horn, echoing through the gray-white castle with an undeniable strength.
"Quite the inspiring words!" Eilin mused. "If only the hand presenting the sword didn't tremble so much, it would carry more weight."
Now, it was the apprentices who faced a dilemma.
"Accept it, apprentice," the Chief's authoritative voice rumbled, stunning everyone into silence.
Indeed, while a Witcher's promise held more power than life, a hefty sum of orens held equal weight as well.
Killing monsters was, after all, a gamble with one's own life.
Especially for an impressive prize like 17,325 orens.
They had merely cheered Eilin's victory moments earlier, but now the stakes felt graver.
Letho, known for his reckless tongue, had to be regretting his words at this moment.
But why did the Chief voice such sentiments?
Seeing Eilin hesitate, the Chief remained unfazed, continuing to address Vesemir, "Vesemir, after the mountain trial, I want you to take Eilin under your wing for contracts."
"In five years, create a silver sword for him that rivals this one, and I'll reclaim my own sword, sound fair?"
Vesemir found no objection to that.
Crafting a weapon suited to one's self involved much more than possessing sufficient funds.
It required the right materials and skilled artisans, and a dash of luck during forging, all to yield a satisfactory weapon.
For others, "Elsa" might boast a value of 17,325 orens.
But for Vesemir, it was worth far more.
Moreover,
a promise outweighed life itself.
He had intended to give the sword to Eilin all along.
"Of course, that can be arranged," Vesemir nodded, turning to Eilin, "Take it."
Seeing no alternative, Eilin accepted "Elsa."
The sheathed silver sword nearly matched his height.
Eilin carefully cradled it in his arms as he stood before Vesemir, careful to avoid dragging the tip against the ground.
With Vesemir's nod, he joined the others to head out of the training grounds.
Outside, near the wooden fence, Letho had, at some point, dragged several other covered cages into view.
"Alright, apprentices, let's continue our practical lessons."
"Who's next?"
Silence greeted his question.
Vesemir cast a puzzled look at the three apprentices, who were hesitating awkwardly, and asked, "What's the matter?"
After a lengthy pause, the sleepy Shus timidly poked his head out, his eyes shimmering with desire as he glanced at Eilin's "Elsa."
"If we win, can we get a silver sword too?" he asked.
The other two apprentices joined in on the hopeful gazes aimed at Vesemir.
Vesemir's expression shifted to puzzlement.