197. Sword and Sword.
Meditation.
In a half-asleep, half-awake state, it allows for quick recovery of energy while maintaining a certain level of alertness. This is a common skill among witchers, though not every witcher can master it.
At least, for the Cat School witchers, it's a particularly difficult skill to grasp. The flaws in the Grass potion recipe cause many Cat School witchers to suffer from various mental and physical issues.
Pain, mania, irritability, madness...
Many Cat School witchers can't even get a proper night's sleep without the aid of alcohol or hallucinogens to numb their nerves. Let alone meditation, which demands an extremely high level of mental stability.
However.
There are always exceptions in this world. Even among the Cat School, there are witchers highly skilled in meditation. For example, Guxart. He could meditate, and he was very good at it. Other than the leader, Guxart was the only witcher in the Cat School who had learned this skill.
In the past, he had always been proud of this fact, and even felt a certain sense of superiority over his fellow witchers, whose mutations were either incomplete or excessive.
But tonight.
No matter how hard he tried to control his emotions and calm his heartbeat, he couldn't enter that tranquil and peaceful state.
Guxart knew why.
Glancing at his companions, who had taken their potions and fallen into a deep sleep, he pulled out a wooden bottle from his leather armor that emitted a faint, fishy smell. This was given to him by Treyse this morning, and inside were several ominous, dark red pills. They had no name, and their ingredients were unknown.
They came from an ancient witch doctor, and each pill could grant the user strength far beyond their normal limits. Though the price was high. Every time this strength was unleashed, the user would need to rest in bed for at least six months.
And that was just the ordinary version.
The bottle in Guxart's hand, however, had been enhanced. While the ordinary pills could double one's strength, these ones could boost it by at least four times.
Of course.
The cost of using them was even steeper — life!
In the silent room.
Guxart stared blankly at the four Cat School witchers, the oldest of whom was only twenty-one years old, for a long time. Many memories surfaced and sank in his mind. Treyse barely concerned himself with such matters. For a long time, Guxart had been the one responsible for training the newcomers. So, although these witchers were technically his comrades, they had once been his apprentices.
He had taken them from the dark corners of some city, from villages ravaged by war, even from ancient, decaying castles, and brought them back to the caravan...
He trained them, taught them to kill, watched them go mad...
They always defied him, but in the end, they would obey him, rely on him...
"The reborn Cat School cannot accommodate so many people. They are the necessary sacrifices for the Cat School's survival!"
Treyse' words echoed in his mind like a vulture circling over a carcass.
In fact.
For tomorrow's competition, the strength of these four Cat School witchers was more than enough to secure victory. There was no need to use such dangerous pills.
Even if there was an apprentice of the Scarlet Red Fox, what of it? A Wolf School witcher who had just passed the trial was no match for their swordsmanship. In fact, the outcome of tomorrow's competition didn't matter much to the school.
The school simply didn't need them anymore...
Or rather, the Cat School only needed them to die...
That was all.
In a daze.
Guxart's gaze wandered aimlessly around the small room.
At some point...
The sky had lightened.
Outside the window.
The sky was gray, and the dawn light was as red as blood. Treyse' voice echoed once more in his mind: "Guxart, trust me!"
"The pack of wolves in Kaer Morhen are doomed to perish!"
"The future of the Cat School will be stronger, built upon the corpses of the wolves, in your hands and mine!"
Will it really become stronger…? Guxart sighed softly, tightening his grip on the wooden bottle.
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Awakened from meditation.
The Wolf School witchers, after a brief wash, were led by Robin to the arena early. To their surprise, despite being two hours early, the place was already packed, with long lines stretching out. It was clear.
Whether sorcerers or sorcerer apprentices, even though they disliked witchers, it didn't stop them from being curious about which witcher school in Kaedwen was stronger.
Or rather...
It was because they despised witchers that they were so eager to watch witchers kill each other, even if it meant coming early to wait in line.
Under Robin's guidance, they entered the arena, where, except for the main grandstand, every other section was already filled with black-robed sorcerers, eager to watch the spectacle. However, this crowd did not inspire the participating witchers with any sense of honor or excitement; instead, it caused them to frown.
The Wolf School witchers stood at the edge of the arena, near their rest area.
Just two steps behind them was a five-meter-tall grandstand.
"…Saiban, why are you here too? Don't you have a potions class this morning?"
"I skipped it... Freaks fighting freaks — how could I miss that!"
"It's a pity it's just small freaks fighting. Who knows when we'll see…"
"Mutants…"
"Monsters…"
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The sorcerer apprentices didn't care if the witchers heard their insults. Some apprentices even deliberately faced the witchers, raising their voices provocatively so that everyone could hear how brave they were when facing the sorcerer-made monsters!
Annoyed by the despicable sorcerer apprentices, Fred grumbled quietly: "These sorcerers are really disgusting!"
Vesemir frowned and patted Fred's shoulder, comforting him: "Focus on the task at hand!"
"I know... I just..." Fred gritted his teeth. "I just…"
"Whose students are you?" Robin suddenly turned around, his face expressionless, as he looked at the noisy sorcerer apprentices behind them.
Seeing the teacher's badge on Robin's black robe, the apprentices immediately lowered their heads, falling silent, not daring to say another word.
Allen looked at the usually reserved Robin in surprise.
In Kaer Morhen, Robin had been so withdrawn that he didn't even want to interact with people, but in just a few months, he had become so bold.
"Jealous? It's just a little bit of the authority of a Ban Ard teacher!" Robin adjusted his glasses proudly.
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While Robin was standing up for the Wolf School, things were not so smooth for the Cat School across the way.
Faruk leaned against the iron fence, completely ignoring the sorcerer apprentices behind the Cat School witchers, which only emboldened the apprentices. The Cat School witchers, already struggling with uncontrollable emotions, reached for their steel swords several times. If it weren't for Guxart stopping them, a bloody conflict would have broken out long ago.
Of course.
It seemed Ban Ard had anticipated this as well, since the number of sorcerers maintaining order around the Cat School was clearly twice that of those near the Wolf School. And their eyes never left the Cat School witchers.
As Allen watched the rivals suffer, feeling a bit smug...
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the stands.
After a few seconds.
"Woooo—"
The loud sound of a horn echoed, drowning out the noise in the arena. Then, a voice came from the main grandstand, announcing:
"King of Kaedwen, heir to the Dynasty of Unicorn, King of Ard Carraigh, Grand Duke of Ban Ard, Henselt has arrived!"
At this moment.
Every pair of eyes turned toward the main grandstand.
"Oh! The king is really fat!"
"No kidding! Why else would he be called the Glutton King?"
The low murmurs of the sorcerer apprentices came from behind. Even Fred was astonished: "This king is even fatter than the wild boars on the back mountain!"
Even Allen had to admit that, despite having imagined Henselt's physique many times, he had still vastly underestimated the king of Kaedwen's obesity. Henselt was so fat that he couldn't even walk normally on his own. He had to be supported or carried to move.
After the king thundered into his seat, Sol and another sorcerer emerged from behind and sat on either side of the king. Then came other sorcerers, followed by men and women who seemed to be of noble status. Six heavily armored knights finally walked out, guarding both sides of the main grandstand.
"Why are there sorcerers?"
"Where's the head of the Cat School?"
Allen asked curiously.
Since the head of the Wolf School sat next to the king, shouldn't the head of the Cat School be on the other side?
"You think anyone qualifies to sit next to the king?" Vesemir shook his head. "The head of the Cat School doesn't deserve to sit on that high platform!"
"Let alone next to the king!"
Allen was about to ask more. The servant standing next to the king. Bowed and asked for instructions from the seated Henselt. Perhaps knowing that he was not welcome here, Henselt didn't bother to speak a word. He glanced at Sol, waved his hand, and the servants began preparing for the tournament.
Dressed in luxurious clothes, the servant received the order and loudly announced to the arena: "The duel tournament between the apprentices of the Wolf School and the Cat School is now starting!"
The previously quiet arena instantly erupted, with the noise rising sharply. Only after the sorcerer apprentices' screams subsided did the servant continue: "The first match is... a melee!"
Huh?
A melee?
"The first match wasn't supposed to be a sword duel?"
The witchers from the Wolf School simultaneously looked up at Robin.
"It's... It was Faruk who gave me that information... why... why did he lie to me?"
Robin was taken aback for a moment and instinctively looked toward Faruk on the opposite side. Faruk smiled at them, shook his head, and then shifted his gaze away.
What does this mean?
Allen frowned.
Was Faruk deceiving them?
Or was the event changed last minute, and even Faruk wasn't aware?
The most crucial question was...
Why?
Whether it was Faruk or someone else, why hide this from us?
What benefit does it bring them?
Seeing that everything seemed normal with the witchers from the Cat School, who had clearly been informed beforehand, Allen and Vesemir exchanged glances, their expressions turning grave.
The servant's explanation of the rules continued despite the Wolf School witchers' confusion: "...Eight will participate in the sword melee. No signs are allowed. Whichever school's participants remain standing at the end will win the melee!"
"Now!"
"Both schools' witchers, exchange your weapons for blunt swords..."
Immediately, servants helped the Wolf School witchers remove their silver and steel swords, handing them blunt swords instead. Suspicious of trickery, the Wolf School witchers examined the swords several times but found no problems.
Clang!
The sword sheathed!
Allen took a deep breath, suppressing the unease in his heart, and said: "Stop overthinking it!"
"Our strength is there. No matter how the competition changes, it won't alter the final result!"
Hughes, Bond, and Fred, hearing this, remembered their recent rapid improvement in strength, and immediately felt more at ease. Vesemir also patted the young witchers on the shoulder, encouraging them: "Allen's right, no matter what tricks the Cat School scum pulls, trash is still trash!"
"Go for it, boys of the Wolf School, show them what you've got!"
"Don't worry, Master Vesemir, they're bound to lose!" Fred said confidently.
Hughes and Bond nodded seriously.
"Good!" Vesemir grinned.
Noticing Robin still hanging his head, wallowing in the previous incident. Allen patted his shoulder, comforting him, "It's not your fault, don't blame yourself!"
Robin forced a smile and nodded reluctantly. Seeing this, Allen patted his shoulder again. Then he leaned over to Vesemir and quietly reminded him: "Master Vesemir, you should be careful too!"
"The king wants to deal with the head, and he won't forget there's also a master witcher from the Wolf School here."
"So you're in danger as well!"
"Don't worry! I'll be careful!" Vesemir squinted at Henselt, then nodded seriously.
He then turned to look at the future of the Wolf School: "Stay safe! It's not shameful to retreat when you're in danger!"
"Hughes, Bond, Fred, you too, don't be reckless!"
"I'll be right here, ready to pull you out at any moment!"
"For the school, neither honor nor gold is more important than your lives, understand?"
"Understood!" the young witchers of the Wolf School replied in unison.
"Good!"
Vesemir nodded.
At that moment.
"Witchers from both schools, enter the arena!" the king's servant shouted.
Allen took a deep breath, nodded slightly to his companions on either side, and then they walked into the arena together.
"Shhh~ Shhh~ Shhh~"
The sound of leather boots scraping against the sandy ground was particularly clear in their ears. The witchers of the Cat School also approached.
Close enough for Allen to see the fine hairs on the Cat School witchers' faces, the bloodshot eyes, and the flush on their cheeks...
Amid the noise, he could hear their excited breathing...
Something wasn't right!
The strange behavior of the Cat School witchers immediately made Allen wary.
"Be careful, there's something wrong with these guys!" Allen whispered.
"Stop!" the servant ordered.
The witchers of both schools were no more than ten meters apart.
"Glory to the great lord of Kaedwen!"
The servant wore a reverent smile and loudly praised. But unfortunately, not a single person in the arena responded, not even Henselt, who remained expressionless. The servant awkwardly cleared his throat twice, then pretended nothing had happened, raising a white horn in his right hand with a serious expression: "Woooo—"
The sound of the horn echoed throughout the arena.
"Clang!"
Eight witchers almost simultaneously drew their swords from their backs, stomping the soft sand underfoot as they charged at their opponents!
In an instant.
A cloud of yellow-brown dust swirled up.
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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198. The Match Isn't Over, But the School of the Wolf Has Won.
199. Where Did the Celestial Convergence Come From?
200. Putting on a Show.
201. Henselt is Dead?
202. The Curse Of the Black Sun!