Callum and I waited in the shadows of the forest, our breathing controlled to the point of near silence. The technique was something Vesemir had drilled into us during our training, slow your breath, slow your heartbeat, become part of the environment. Predators didn't announce themselves. They waited, watched, and struck when the moment was perfect.
The Royal Wyvern approached the lure with cautious steps, its massive clawed feet leaving deep impressions in the soft earth. Each footfall was careful and deliberate. This wasn't some mindless beast, it was an apex predator, and it knew these woods were its domain.
The creature's serpentine neck extended as it lowered its flat, triangular head toward the scent trail we'd laid. Its nostrils flared, drawing in the mixture of blood and herbs. The crimson scales covering its body gleamed in the afternoon light, each one the size of my palm and overlapping like natural armor.
I could see the intelligence in its yellow eyes as it surveyed the clearing, searching for threats. Its long, prehensile tail coiled and uncoiled behind it, a weapon in its own right. The wings, merged into its powerful forelimbs, were folded against its body, but I could see the membrane between the bone structure, easily thirty feet of wingspan when fully extended.
It found the lure and started eating, tearing into the mixture with savage efficiency. Its jaws worked methodically, crushing and grinding, those deadly teeth designed to rend flesh from bone.
Callum and I controlled our breathing like we'd been taught, slowing it down to the point it was almost nonexistent. My chest barely rose and fell. My heartbeat was a distant, steady drum in my ears. Every sense was focused on our prey, cataloging its movements, its patterns, searching for the perfect opening.
This was the moment. The wyvern was distracted, focused on feeding. Its guard was down.
I raised my left hand slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might catch its attention. I channeled my mana, feeling the energy flow through the pathways in my body, pooling in my palm. The translucent gold-yellow sphere of compressed magical energy formed above my hand, about the size of a baseball, pulsing with contained power.
Callum's eyes widened as he saw it. Even from across the clearing, I could see his expression shift from focused calm to surprised confusion. His lips moved silently, forming words I could read even without hearing them: Cain, what is that?
I mouthed back, keeping my voice completely silent: A new spell I'd like to try.
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't question further. We'd talk about it later. Right now, we had a monster to kill. I focused on the sphere, compressing it further. The spell description had mentioned geometric compression, shaping the mana into a dense, aerodynamic form. I visualized it shrinking, condensing, all that power compacting into a smaller and smaller space.
It was harder than I'd expected. The mana wanted to expand, to release its energy. Holding it compressed required constant mental pressure, like trying to squeeze water in your fist. But I pushed harder, forcing it down from the size of a baseball to something closer to a marble.
The sphere shrank, but I could feel the power intensifying. The density increased exponentially. What had been a diffuse ball of magical energy was now a concentrated point of destructive force, barely larger than my thumbnail but thrumming with barely contained violence.
The wyvern's head was still lowered, focused on the lure. Perfect.
I released the spell with a mental command, and the compressed mana missile shot forward at inhuman speed. It moved so fast it was barely visible, a streak of gold-yellow light that crossed the clearing in a fraction of a second.
The impact was devastating.
The spell hit the wyvern's head with a sound like a thunderclap, a loud, wet THWACK that echoed through the forest. A chunk of the creature's skull simply ceased to exist, blown away by the concentrated magical force. Bone fragments, brain matter, and blood sprayed across the clearing in a grotesque arc.
The wyvern's body jerked violently, its legs buckling. It let out a strangled, gurgling screech that was cut short as its massive form collapsed to the ground with a earth-shaking thud. The tail lashed once, twice, then went still. The yellow eyes glazed over, the intelligence behind them extinguished in an instant.
It was dead. One shot, one kill.
Both Callum's eyes and mine widened in shock. I stared at my hand, still tingling with residual mana. The spell had been powerful, yes, but I hadn't expected it to be that effective. The geometric compression had turned what should have been a moderately damaging spell into basically a magically rail gun.
Damn, I thought, flexing my fingers. That's a lot of power in such a small thing. Just imagine if I can get that to the 'Epic' rank.
Callum stood up from his position, no longer bothering with stealth now that the wyvern was clearly dead. He looked from the corpse to me, his expression a mixture of awe and concern.
"Cain, what the bloody hell was that?" he said, speaking at a normal volume now. His voice carried across the clearing, no longer needing to whisper. "Was that... was that the blood?"
I knew I could say yes to make things easier. The Elder Blood was a convenient explanation for any magical ability I displayed that fell outside normal parameters for a Witcher. He wouldn't question it at this point, the Elder Blood was legendary, mysterious, and capable of things that defied conventional understanding.
But I knew I would have to explain this to others eventually, especially mages. At some point, I would be seen using magic that Witcher's weren't known for. It was bound to happen. So I might as well start making up better excuses now, establishing a foundation for future explanations. Especially so I don't have to hold back in the middle of a situation where I need to go all out.
"It is the blood, to some degree," I said, forming my words carefully. I walked toward the wyvern's corpse, keeping my tone casual. "I've been experimenting with different types of magic. Like improving my reactions, or improving the Witcher signs, or that of others."
Callum's eyes narrowed as he approached from the other side of the clearing. "So you were experimenting with magic without a mage instructor?"
I nodded, crouching down to examine the wyvern's head, or what was left of it. "Yeah, but I've been doing it for years, and I'm nowhere near where I want to be." I paused, thinking about last night. "That sorceress I was with last night said she could introduce me to a potential instructor..."
I trailed off, the memory of Neary's drunken state coming back to me. The wine on her breath, the way she'd been swaying, the desperation in her eyes that had nothing to do with genuine interest in my magical education and everything to do with wanting to forget her problems for a night.
"Now that I look back at it," I continued with a slight grimace, "I think she was more interested in tasting me than actually helping with my magical studies."
Callum chuckled, the tension breaking slightly. "Well, Cain, if you want to know so bad, let's see when we get back. Either she meant what she said or she didn't." He moved closer, examining the wyvern's corpse with professional interest. "I can ask Calla if she can give you some instructions and...."
Callum stopped mid-sentence. I saw his pupils dilate suddenly, his cat-like Witcher eyes expanding to take in more light. His entire body went rigid, every muscle tensing.
I realized something in that same instant. The quest completion window hadn't popped up. Which meant only two things: either the quest wasn't over, or....
My thought cut off as my heightened senses picked up movement. Not on the ground. In the air.
I felt the sudden shift in air pressure first. It was massive, far larger than the wyvern had been. The displacement of air was enormous, creating a pressure wave that made my ears pop. I heard the sound of not one but two pairs of wings flapping, not the soft flutter of everyday birds, but a distinct, powerful thump-thump-thump that resonated in my chest.
Then the smell hit me. Highly metallic and sharp, but different from the wyvern's reptilian musk. This was a pungent mixture of coagulated blood and something else, the distinct scent of wet feathers mixed with copper and raw iron. It was the smell of a predator that killed with talons and beak, not just teeth.
The system window appeared in my vision, the blue text stark against the forest background.
System Codex: Based on wind patterns and smells, a Royal Griffon has been detected.
Before I could even process that information, another window appeared in quick succession, overlaying the first.
System Notification: Quest Update
Epic Rank Quest: Royal Road → Royal Hunt
Objective: Slay the Royal Griffons: 0/2
Rewards: +2.5 to Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity Attributes. 2 Epic Equipment Chests.
My eyes widened as I read the notification. Royal Griffon? There's two of them?
"Callum, move!" I shouted, already diving to the side.
The attack came from above with terrifying speed. Two massive shapes plummeted from the sky like falling boulders, their wings tucked tight against their bodies to maximize velocity. They hit the ground where we'd been standing with enough force to crack the earth, sending up clouds of dirt and debris.
I rolled to my feet, drawing my silver sword in one smooth motion. Across the clearing, Callum did the same, his blade already in hand.
The griffons rose to their full height, and they were magnificent and terrifying in equal measure.
Each creature stood easily eight feet tall at the shoulder, with bodies that were a seamless fusion of lion and eagle. Their front halves were pure avian, massive eagle heads with wickedly curved beaks, intelligent golden eyes that tracked our every movement, and powerful wings that spanned at least twenty feet each. Their front legs ended in talons the size of daggers, each one capable of disemboweling a man with a single swipe.
Their rear halves were leonine, muscular hindquarters covered in tawny fur, powerful legs built for pouncing and running, and long tails that lashed back and forth like whips. The transition between feathers and fur was seamless, natural, as if they'd been designed this way from the beginning.
The male was slightly larger, his plumage a deep brown with golden highlights that caught the light. The female's feathers were lighter, more gray-brown, but her eyes held the same predatory intelligence.
They didn't attack immediately. Instead, they circled us, moving with the coordinated precision of experienced hunters. The male moved left, the female right, forcing Callum and me to split our attention. They were flanking us, cutting off escape routes, herding us like prey.
"Cain!" Callum called out, his voice tight with tension. "These are mated pairs! They hunt together!"
I knew. I could see it in the way they moved, the way they communicated with subtle shifts of posture and wing position. They'd done this before, many times. They were apex predators, and we were in their territory.
The male struck first, launching itself forward with explosive speed. Its talons extended, aiming for my chest. I raised my left hand and cast Quen, the golden shield materializing around me just as the griffon's claws connected.
The impact was tremendous. The force of the blow sent me skidding backward, my feet digging furrows in the earth. The Quen shield held, but I could feel it weakening, cracks spreading across its surface like a shattered mirror.
The female attacked Callum simultaneously, her beak snapping at his head. He ducked under the strike and rolled to the side, coming up with his sword ready. But the griffon was already pivoting, her wing sweeping out in a powerful arc that would have broken his ribs if it connected.
I cast Yrden at the male's feet, the purple trap circle appearing on the ground beneath it. The griffon stepped into it and immediately slowed, its movements becoming sluggish as the magical field disrupted its natural speed and agility.
"Callum!" I shouted. I then casted Haste on the both of us.
I channeled mana through my Chronomancy spell, feeling the familiar surge of temporal magic. The spell washed over both of us, and suddenly the world seemed to slow down around us. Our movements became faster, more fluid, while the griffons appeared to move through molasses.
Callum grinned, feeling the effect take hold. "Wow. This is way better then taking a potion. Now we're talking!"
We engaged both griffons with our silver swords, and the clearing erupted into chaos.
I moved like a demon, my enhanced speed combining with the Haste spell to create something that bordered on supernatural. My silver sword flashed in the afternoon light, each strike aimed at vulnerable points, joints, eyes, the softer flesh where feathers met fur.
The male griffon screeched in fury, trying to track my movements but finding me always just out of reach. I ducked under a wing sweep, rolled beneath a talon strike, came up slashing at its rear leg. My blade bit deep, drawing blood, and the creature roared in pain and anger.
Across the clearing, Callum fought with raw power and skill. His natural strength was impressive, each sword strike carrying enough force to cleave through bone. His technique was flawless, his footwork perfect, his timing impeccable.
The female griffon lunged at him, beak snapping. Callum sidestepped, his sword coming up in a rising cut that caught the creature across the chest. Feathers and blood flew, and the griffon shrieked, backpedaling.
But we were fighting two Royal Griffons simultaneously, and they were adapting to our tactics.
The male broke free of my Yrden trap, its wings beating powerfully to create distance. It took to the air, circling above us, looking for an opening. The female did the same, and suddenly we were facing aerial attacks from two directions.
"Shit!" I cursed, tracking both creatures as they wheeled overhead.
They dove together, a coordinated strike from opposite angles. I raised my hand and cast Quen again, the shield reforming around me. Callum did the same, his own protective barrier shimmering into existence.
The griffons hit us like falling stars. My Quen shattered on impact, the force of the blow driving me to one knee. Callum's shield held, but barely, cracks spreading across its surface.
I rolled backward, creating space, and cast Igni. Powerful fire erupted from my palm in a concentrated stream, catching the male griffon as it tried to follow up its attack. The flames washed over its feathered chest, and it screeched in pain, beating its wings frantically to extinguish the fire.
Callum engaged the female, his sword work keeping her at bay. But I could see the strain on his face. We were holding our own, but this was a battle of attrition, and we couldn't keep this pace up forever.
The male griffon landed heavily, patches of its feathers still smoldering. It fixed me with a hate-filled glare, and I saw something shift in its posture. It was done playing. Now it was going to kill me.
It charged, and I met it head-on. My silver sword clashed against its talons, the impact sending sparks flying. We traded blows in a furious exchange, I cut at its legs, it swiped at my head. I ducked, rolled, came up slashing. It beat its wings, creating a gust of wind that nearly knocked me off my feet.
I used Warp to teleport, blinking out of existence and reappearing behind the creature. My sword came down in a powerful overhead strike, aiming for the base of its skull. But the griffon was fast, twisting its head around with unnatural flexibility and catching my blade in its beak.
We struggled, locked together, its strength against mine. I could feel my muscles straining, my enhanced Constitution the only thing keeping me from being overpowered.
Then I heard Callum shout, "Cain! We need to retreat!"
I glanced over and saw him backing away from the female, his sword held defensively. He was right, we were being overwhelmed.
I disengaged from the male, using another short-range teleport to create distance. I appeared next to Callum, both of us breathing hard, our swords at the ready.
"These griffons are probably in the middle of their mating season!" Callum said quickly, his eyes never leaving the creatures as they circled us. "They were probably going to eliminate the Royal Wyvern to take over the location for their nest! We stumbled into a territorial dispute!"
I processed that information rapidly. It made sense. The wyvern had been nesting here, and the griffons wanted the territory. They'd been planning to kill it and claim the area for themselves. And now we'd killed their target, which meant we were the new threat to their claim.
"We have shitting luck," I muttered, adjusting my grip on my sword.
The griffons were regrouping, the male's burned feathers still smoking, the female's chest wound bleeding freely. They were hurt, but far from defeated. And they were angry.
An idea formed in my mind. "Callum, we need to pick them off one by one, but land the finishing blows nearly simultaneously."
He looked at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Otherwise one of the mates will go into a frenzy with the other dead."
"Exactly," I confirmed. "We coordinate our attacks. Take them down together, finish them together. No room for error."
Callum nodded grimly. "Agreed. Let's do this."
We split up again, but this time with a plan. I would focus on the male, Callum on the female. We'd wear them down, create openings, and when the moment was right, we'd strike together.
The griffons attacked again, and we met them with renewed determination. I cast Haste on both of us again. The world slowed once more, and we became blurs of motion.
I engaged the male griffon with a combination of swordwork and magic. I'd slash at its legs, forcing it to rear back, then hit it with Igni. The fire caught its feathers, and it screeched, trying to extinguish the flames. I pressed the advantage, my sword finding gaps in its natural armor, drawing blood with each strike.
Callum fought the female with brutal efficiency. His sword work was a thing of beauty, powerful, precise, relentless. He drove her back step by step, his blade opening wounds across her chest and legs. When she tried to take flight, he cast Aard, the telekinetic blast catching her mid-air and slamming her back to the ground.
I cast Yrden beneath the male griffon's feet, and it stepped into the trap. The magical field activated, and the creature's movements became sluggish, its speed reduced to a fraction of what it had been.
"Now!" I shouted to Callum.
He cast Igni at the female, and flames engulfed her. She shrieked, her wings beating frantically, but the fire clung to her feathers, spreading rapidly. The smell of burning feathers and flesh filled the air.
The male griffon, still trapped in my Yrden, tried to reach its mate. But I was there, my sword flashing in the light, keeping it contained. I struck at its legs, its wings, anywhere I could reach. Blood flowed freely now, staining the ground beneath us.
The female griffon was burning, her movements becoming more desperate, more erratic. Callum pressed his attack, his sword finding her throat, her chest, her legs. She was weakening, the combination of wounds and fire taking their toll.
I reinforced my Yrden trap, pouring more mana into it. The purple circle flared brighter, and the male griffon's movements slowed even further. It could barely move now, trapped in the magical field like an insect in amber.
"Callum!" I called out. "The female, how close?"
"Almost there!" he responded, his sword coming down in a powerful overhead strike that caught the griffon across the back. "She's nearly done!"
I focused on the male, my sword work becoming more aggressive. I aimed for vital points, the joints where wing met body, the soft flesh of the throat, the eyes. The creature tried to defend itself, but the Yrden trap made it impossible. It was like fighting in slow motion, every movement telegraphed, every defense too slow.
My blade found its mark again and again. Blood poured from dozens of wounds. The griffon's screeches became weaker, more pained. It was dying, but I needed to time this perfectly.
"Callum!" I shouted. "On my mark!"
"Ready!" he called back.
I could see the female griffon collapsing, her legs buckling. The fire had done its work, and Callum's relentless assault had opened too many wounds. She was seconds from death.
The male griffon in my Yrden trap was in similar condition. It could barely stand, its strength fading with each passing second. Its golden eyes, once so fierce and intelligent, were now glazed with pain and exhaustion.
"Now!" I yelled. "Now's our chance!"
Callum and I rushed forward simultaneously, our movements perfectly synchronized. We knew each other's rhythms, each other's timing.
I brought my silver sword down on the male griffon's neck with every ounce of strength I possessed. The blade cut through flesh and bone like they were paper. The griffon's head separated from its body in a spray of blood, the massive form collapsing to the ground with a wet, heavy thud.
Across the clearing, Callum's sword came down on the female griffon's neck at the exact same moment. His blade, wielded with all his natural power and skill, severed her head cleanly. Her body fell beside her mate's, blood pooling beneath both corpses.
The clearing fell silent except for our breathing. Blood splattered across the ground, soaking into the earth. The two Royal Griffons lay dead, their heads separated from their bodies, their golden eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.
Callum and I stood there, barely winded from the experience despite the intensity of the fight. Our enhanced Constitution and the Witcher mutations meant we could fight at peak performance far longer than normal humans. But more than that, we'd fought smart, using tactics and coordination to overcome opponents that could have easily killed us individually.
Callum chuckled, the sound breaking the silence. "Now that's a hunt."
I nodded, a slight smile crossing my face despite the exhaustion. "Yeah. Talk about our first official hunts as Witcher's."
We stood there for a moment longer, catching our breath and letting the adrenaline fade. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the clearing, illuminating the carnage we'd created. Three Royal-class monsters dead in one day. Not bad for our first official hunt as Witcher's. But I hope it doesn't say how difficult my life will be in this world as a Witcher.
"Too bad we didn't get paid for the griffons," I said, sheathing my sword. "That's some real money to be made there."
But just as the words left my mouth, the system window appeared.
System Notification: Quest Complete
Epic Rank Quest: Royal Hunt
Objective: Slay the Royal Griffons: 2/2
Rewards: +2.5 to Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity Attributes. 2 Epic Equipment Chests.
I smirked slightly, dismissing the window. The system had its own ideas about payment, it seemed. Well I'm not complaining, two Epic rank chest with higher attribute points will do for now.
"Let's collect some materials," I said, moving toward the nearest griffon corpse. "I'm sure we can find an alchemist or mage who will want to buy some of this. And if we're lucky, the female will have eggs she hasn't laid yet."
Callum sighed. "Alright, Cain. I'll go investigate the wyvern nest for anything valuable." He gestured at the three massive corpses. "You can handle the proof of completion and dissection of the griffons and wyvern?"
I nodded. "Yeah, go ahead."
Callum headed off toward the hill where we'd spotted the wyvern's nest earlier, leaving me alone with the bodies. I pulled out my hunting knife, the Hunter's Edge from my hidden inventory, and got to work.
Dissecting monsters was messy, brutal work, but it was necessary. Every part of a Royal-class creature had value and I was gonna milk it for all it's worth. The feathers could be used in potions or sold to craftsmen for decorative purposes. The talons made excellent dagger blades or could be ground into powder for alchemical reagents. The beaks could be carved into tools or weapons. Even the blood had uses in certain rituals and potions.
I started with the male griffon, carefully removing the primary flight feathers. Each one was nearly three feet long, the shaft thick and strong. I bundled them together, securing them with cord from my pack. These alone would fetch a good price.
Next came the talons. I had to cut through tough sinew and cartilage to remove them, but the Hunter's Edge knife made the work easier than it would have been with a normal blade. Each talon was the length of my forearm, curved and wickedly sharp. I wrapped them carefully to avoid cutting myself and added them to my growing pile of materials.
The beak required more delicate work. I had to separate it from the skull without damaging the structure. It took time and patience, but eventually, I had it free. The beak was solid, dense, capable of crushing bone. An alchemist would pay well for this.
I moved on to the internal organs. The heart was massive, easily the size of my head. I removed it carefully, placing it in a leather bag treated with preservative herbs. Griffon hearts were prized ingredients in potions that enhanced courage and strength.
The liver, kidneys, and other organs followed. Each had its uses in alchemy. I worked methodically, my hands moving with practiced efficiency. This wasn't my first time field dressing a kill, though it was my first time working with creatures this large.
The female griffon yielded similar materials, but when I opened her abdominal cavity, I found something extra. Three eggs, each about the size of my fist, still intact within her reproductive tract. They hadn't been laid yet, which meant they were unfertilized, perfect for alchemical use.
I removed them carefully, wrapping each one in soft cloth before placing them in a padded container. Griffon eggs were incredibly valuable. Alchemists used them in potions that enhanced perception and granted temporary flight-like abilities. Mages used them in rituals. Even nobles collected them as curiosities. And one crazy person will hatch them for pets or whatever you could think of.
But the real prize came when I extracted the mutagens.
From each griffon, I harvested a single mutagen, a crystallized concentration of the creature's magical essence. They appeared as small, glowing orbs of green light, pulsing with contained power. I placed them carefully in reinforced vials, sealing them with wax to prevent any leakage.
The wyvern yielded a red mutagen, its color indicating its draconic nature. This one pulsed with a different energy, raw, primal, focused on physical enhancement rather than the griffons' more balanced attributes.
I held the three vials up to the light, watching the colors swirl within. Two green, one red. These were incredibly valuable. Mutagens could be absorbed by Witcher's to permanently enhance their attributes, but the process was dangerous and required careful preparation. Most Witcher's waited years after their initial mutations before attempting to absorb additional mutagens.
But I had advantages they didn't so maybe I could handle it.
I packed everything carefully, feathers, talons, beaks, organs, eggs, and mutagens. The pile of materials was substantial, easily worth several hundred orens or crowns if I found the right buyers.
Now since I was alone, I decided to check my progression. I pulled up my status window with a thought.
Status Window:
Name: Cain
Age: 16
Race: Half-Elf Half-Human (Mutant)
Bloodline Trait: Elder Blood (Legendary)
Class: Wolf School Witcher (Common)
Title: Sequence 9: Hunter (75%)
Attributes:
Constitution: 17.0
Strength: 16.3
Dexterity: 16.3
Wisdom: 14.2
Intelligence: 14.3
Charisma: 10.8
Luck: Unknown
Mana: 10.1
My eyes widened when I saw the digestion percentage. Seventy-five percent. I'd jumped from nineteen percent to seventy-five percent in a single hunt.
I mean it made sense, though. Hunting a Royal Wyvern and then suddenly being ambushed by two Royal Griffons, that was exactly the kind of dangerous, high-stakes hunting that the Sequence 9: Hunter pathway might demanded. The acting method required me to hunt increasingly dangerous prey, to test myself against creatures that could actually kill me.
I wonder, if it had been a dragon, would the potion be completely digested?
I shook that thought from my head immediately. I didn't want to even think about fighting a dragon right now, not with this being my first official hunt. Plus, I would hate to have to tell Geralt that I'd fought a dragon on my first contract. He'd never let me hear the end of it.
The sound of footsteps announced Callum's return. He emerged from the treeline, a satisfied expression on his face and a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Found some good stuff in the nest," he said, dropping the bag next to my pile of materials. "Coins, jewelry, and a few eggs. Looks like the wyvern had just laid them from the smell."
I showed him the spoils of my work, the bundled feathers, wrapped talons, preserved organs, and most importantly, the three mutagen vials.
His eyes widened when he saw them. "Mutagens? You found mutagens?"
"One from the wyvern, two from the griffons," I confirmed, holding up the vials. "Good quality, too. These are Royal-class mutagens."
Callum whistled appreciatively. "We need an skilled alchemist, but since the Witchers hold the secrets to our mutagens so close to ourselves, we need Vesemir or Coen to help absorb those." He paused, his expression becoming more serious. "But I remember Vesemir saying we should wait a few years before we try absorbing any mutagens. The process is dangerous, and our bodies need time to fully stabilize after the Trial of Grasses."
He reached out and took one of the green vials, examining it in the light. "You can keep the red one, and I'll take one of the green ones. For later. Either I'll sell it, or have Vesemir help me with it when we head back to the keep."
I nodded, pocketing the red mutagen and one green one. "Sounds fair."
"Alright," Callum said, shouldering his bag again. "I'm going to head back to the village and let them know it's safe to travel the road again. You pack everything up here?"
"Yeah, I've got it," I confirmed. "See you in a few hours, brother."
Callum grinned. "See you in a few hours, brother."
He headed off down the trail toward the village, leaving me alone in the clearing once more. I finished packing up the materials, securing everything in my pack and the extra bags we'd brought for this purpose.
When everything was organized, I built a small fire near the road, just far enough from the treeline to be visible but not so close that it would spread. The afternoon was giving way to evening, and I wanted light and warmth while I waited for Callum to return with Dreana and her caravan.
I sat down near the fire, pulling out the two mutagen vials, the red one from the wyvern and the remaining green one from the griffon. I held them up, watching the colors swirl and pulse within the glass.
The system window appeared unbidden.
System Notification: Would you like to absorb the mutagens?
[Yes/No]
I smirked. Was that even a question?
I selected [Yes] without hesitation.
The mutagens in the vials disappeared instantly, dissolving into streams of colored light, red and green intertwining, that flowed into my chest. The sensation was immediate and intense.
Black veins appeared across my arms, spreading from my hands up to my shoulders like dark lightning. They pulsed with each heartbeat, carrying the mutagens' power through my body. The pain hit a moment later, a searing, burning sensation that felt like my blood had been replaced with molten metal.
I keeled over, my body convulsing. Every muscle tensed, every nerve screamed. It felt like the Trial of Grasses all over again, that same overwhelming agony as my body was forcibly changed at the cellular level.
But my Cold Blooded trait kicked in, that supernatural calm settling over my mind even as my body writhed in pain. I could feel the agony, acknowledge it, but it didn't control me. I remained focused, aware, riding out the transformation.
The black veins spread further, covering my chest, my back, my legs. They pulsed faster, brighter, the red and green light visible beneath my skin. I could feel my bones strengthening, my muscles becoming denser, my reflexes sharpening even further.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a minute, the pain began to subside. The black veins faded, disappearing back into my skin. The burning sensation cooled, replaced by a pleasant warmth that spread through my entire body.
I lay there for a moment, breathing hard, staring up at the darkening sky. Then the system pinged.
System Notification: You have successfully absorbed two mutagens.
Attributes:
Constitution: 17.0 → 20.0
Strength: 16.3 → 19.3
Dexterity: 16.3 → 18.3
Wisdom: 14.2
Intelligence: 14.3
Charisma: 10.8
Luck: Unknown
Mana: 10.1 → 11.6
Poison Resistance Level 3 (Rare) → Poison Resistance Level 4 (Rare)
Description: High resistance to toxins, poisons, and Witcher potion strain. Improves tolerance and beneficial adaptation. Reduces poison damage by 65%. Witcher potion toxicity reduced by 45%.
Poison Threshold: 0/130
New Skill: Intimidation Level 1 (Rare)
Description: Releases a pressure that scares weaker animals, monsters, and people. Can be activated consciously or may trigger automatically in response to threats. Effectiveness scales with the target's willpower and the user's Charisma attribute.
Effect: Causes fear in targets with significantly lower threat levels. May cause hesitation or retreat in equal-level threats. Minimal effect on higher-level threats.
I sat up slowly, examining my hands. They looked the same, but I could feel the difference. My Constitution had jumped from seventeen to twenty, a massive increase , I wonder if i get the rest of my attributes to that will I surpass the second limiter? I still don't even know what the limiter's are.
The new Intimidation skill looks interesting. The ability to project an aura of fear, to make weaker creatures hesitate or flee. It made sense, both griffons and wyverns were apex predators, creatures that dominated their territories through sheer presence as much as physical power. Absorbing their mutagens had granted me a fraction of that same intimidating aura. Not that being a Witcher didn't already give me that, but I guess the system has just made it official.
I made a mental note to keep my eyes out for more mutagens in the future. If I could find high-quality ones from powerful creatures, I could accelerate my physical development far beyond what normal training would allow.
But starting tomorrow, I needed to figure out how I was going to progress to the next sequence in my pathway. Sequence 9: Hunter was at seventy-five percent digestion. I needed to reach one hundred percent before I could advance to Sequence 8, and I still didn't know how I would move to the next sequence if I need the potion to do so.
And beyond that, I needed to improve my understanding of magic in this world. The Mana Missile spell had proven incredibly effective, but it was just one spell. I needed to learn more, to expand my magical repertoire beyond just Witcher signs and the few abilities my system had granted me. So far I'm going off my past life understanding of magic, but that's mostly from D&D, and anime. Each world has it's own understanding of magic and I don't come close to understanding the Witcher's. But it seems the rules are flexible
Hopefully, Neary hadn't just been drunkenly talking when she'd mentioned finding me a teacher. A proper magical education from an experienced sorceress could make all the difference in my development.