The skies were brilliantly blue. A gust of wind blew across the riverside on eastern Novigrad. Two gigantic silhouettes flapped their wings in the heavens, circling each other.
One had the body of a lion and the head of an eagle. It was covered in brownish-yellow fur, and its eyes were icy black, filled with the arrogance of an apex predator.
The other silhouette was even bigger than the predator. It was the size of an adult buffalo. Its body was nearly black in color and sleek like a feline. Scales and feathers grew on its body, and clawed wings protruded from its back. It had the long tail of a serpent and the head of a rooster. Its beak was short but sharp, and its crown was crimson red. Its eyes were amber and filled with cunning.
A loud screech tore through the air, and the griffin charged toward the basilisk.
The beasts found themselves entangled in a heated battle. The basilisk pecked away at the griffin's head and neck, but the griffin clutched its adversary's wings with its own, holding down its talons with its claws. Screeches and howls echoed in the air as the beasts spiraled and hurtled through the skies.
At a glance, they looked like a couple venting out their hatred at each other. Blood, feathers, and scales rained down, and the beasts parted a moment after the initial attack. Both of them sustained deep injuries on their bodies.
The battle had no clear winner, but the griffin was still young. It lost out in size and strength, and unlike its enemy, it had no scales to protect itself. The basilisk's attack left a deep wound. The light in its eyes dimmed a little, and the griffin turned around, flapping its wings.
A howl escaped its maw as it descended to the ground.
The basilisk let out a squawk of delight, its amber eyes twinkling with malice even more. It flapped its wings and followed its quarry closely, but then someone pulled the trigger, and a silver light flew from the bush.
The basilisk's crown burst into a flower of blood. It let out a scream and plummeted like a kite that had lost its wings. Before it could hit the ground, a ball of fire zipped through the air and slammed into the monster. Flames licked it, swimming up to the basilisk's neck.
Finally, the monster fell with a loud thud. It rolled around in an attempt to put the flames out, stirring up storms of dust while doing so. Soil and chunks of plants flew into the sky as it flapped its wings.
Before it could even put the flames out, someone emerged from the bush. Someone tall and muscular. He pulled his weapon's trigger and weaved a red sign in the air, and a flash of silver followed by a fireball flew the basilisk's way.
Left with no avenues to defend itself, the bolt pierced through the basilisk's left eye. And then the fireball exploded, covering it in even bigger flames. Even when it was tossing and turning, the flames roared on.
Roy cast Observe.
'Basilisk
Age: Twelve years old
Gender: Male
HP: Lightly injured
Mana: 120
Strength: 26
Dexterity: 20
Constitution: 28
Perception: 9
Will: 8
Charisma: 5
Spirit: 12
Skills:
Subdragon (Passive): Basilisks are distant relatives of great dragons. +10 to Constitution. Its sturdy and hardened scales shield it against physical attacks. It possesses decent resistance against fire, corrosion, and venom.
Tail Whip Level 5: A fast attack with the tail.
Sonic Wave Level 6; Thanks to its unique throat and vocal cord structure, basilisks can fire off a sonic wave at a unique frequency in a five-meter range, stunning and disorienting its target.'
***
The air rippled, and a phantom silhouette traveled ten yards in a single moment. As the witcher appeared over the basilisk's head, his eyes flared with fire, but the look on his face was that of ice-cold fury.
He held a crimson sword over his head, muscles tense and veins popping. The blade was brought down swiftly, embedding itself within the monster's spine. Blood covered the blade, and one of the five runes on it shone.
An almost deafening scream came from the basilisk. Wriggle and squirm it did, in an attempt to bring down the maggot standing over its head, but then crimson tentacles appeared before it, strangling and keeping the basilisk in place.
The basilisk curled its wings up in an attempt to block the tentacles, leaving its back unguarded.
And the injured griffin seized its chance at revenge. It slammed its hind legs and wings into the ground and pounced at the basilisk like a golden carriage. Through the scales, fur, and skin the griffin tore, and eventually, flesh and blood were pulled from the basilisk.
The witcher pulled his blade out of the monster only to bring it down once more on the wound of its beck.
***
Deeper and bigger the wound became, and blood drenched the grass around it.
But the basilisk did not die that easily. Fear couldn't keep it still for long. When it broke free of the spell, the basilisk shook its body in fury and charged straight ahead, leaving the witcher and his griffin behind.
It flapped its wings and flew into the air, but once again, the basilisk revealed its back to the pair of hunters.
Sounds of swishes filled the air as the witcher pulled the trigger and cast his fireball spell at the same time. The bolts and fireball rained down on the basilisk's left wing and broke it.
The basilisk hadn't even risen thirty feet into the air, and it was already brought back down to ground. It raised its head again, but this time, its amber eyes were tinged with red. In a last ditch attempt to survive, it relinquished all defenses and charged straight at the witcher, but its wounds greatly slowed its speed.
It was a mighty charge, but the basilisk telegraphed its attack too obviously. The witcher was prepared, and he saw through the attack. Like a dancer flying across a dangerous dance floor, the witcher led the basilisk on a little hunt, expending what little stamina it had left. Every time the witcher rolled on the ground, he got back up faster and thrust Aerondight up into the monster.
The draconid oil burned the monster, while Devour took in all the blood and lost life force. Despite the advantage, not once did the witcher go in for more than one attack at a time.
Slowly but surely, the runes were starting to light up. Two times the basilisk's tail grazed Roy, but Quen absorbed most of the impact. It tried to use a sonic attack, but Heliotrop held up against it.
The witcher was barely hurt, and his injured griffin, like its master, went for every opening it could every time the basilisk revealed its back. Once the basilisk turned its attention to the griffin, the beast would take to the skies immediately.
The witcher and his griffin worked together, flanking the monster for about one minute. Then a lean, tanned Zerrikanian girl with a Mohican hairstyle emerged from the trees nearby. She too joined the battle. Almost every shot she fired with the hand crossbow hit its mark. The extra enemy spelled disaster for the basilisk. It was covered in bruises and wounds at that point.
The longer the battle continued, the more Suppression kept the monster in check. Bloody tentacles that floated behind the witcher would strangle the monster like boa constrictors from time to time, stunning it for a few moments.
The basilisk's speed dropped, its amber eyes losing their luster. Its breathing was ragged and heavy, and its body was wobbly. It was close to falling.
It made a half-hearted attempt at a wing flap, and Roy easily walked around it. He held his sword up high and swung it down once more. Flames covered his blade, and the metal cut through the basilisk's flesh, tendons, bones, and even the ground underneath. A straight line of flames and blood billowed in the air for a moment, and then an oversized chicken head rolled over to the witcher.
The massive headless body fell with a sickening thud, stirring up a storm of dust and grass. Its wings and legs were spasming, while the wound on its neck was billowing with smoke, cauterized by the fire.
'Basilisk killed. EXP +260.'
Roy wiped off his blade and looked at his EXP bar. Over the last few months, he had been summoning demons every month and hunting in the wilds with Gryphon. The bar was filling up at a blistering rate, but Roy was in no hurry to level up.
Like a playful child, Gryphon covered its head with its wings and shook its rear at the dead basilisk. It let out weird screeches like it was showing off at a corpse.
Kantilla pierced her blades into the ugly head the size of half a human and held it in the air. She covered her fingers with its blood and drew two crescent moons on her cheeks. Then, she wrapped her arms around the witcher's neck and spun around, showing off her beautiful body.
"You did good, Roy. If you were in Zerrikania, you'd at least be a five-star hunter."
Roy wiped some sweat off his forehead. After the second Trial, most monsters that had more than twenty in their stats were no threat to him, not even the difficult subdragons.
He had come up with a perfect battle plan. First, he would take down the enemy's mobility with Furyfire and Gabriel. Then he would get close and light the runes on his sword up. If the enemy tried to attack, he would dodge, ambush, and keep fighting on with Activate. Now that he had 300 points of Mana, he could dish out heavy damage before he needed to rest.
That plan worked every time. And once the runes were all lit up, it was time to go in for the kill. If Gryphon was helping him, it would be even easier to kill the monsters. A few of the harder creatures died when he used that plan.
"All thanks to you and Gryphon."
"You're too modest. I did nothing, really. Just a minute amount of damage." She bent over and skinned the monster. Happily, she said, "It's thanks to you we managed to defeat this beautiful creature. It's fiercer than a venomous basilisk. I'd say it's worth two tattoos. Can you pick the style for me?"
Roy kept quiet.
"No? Then how should I thank you?" Kantilla's eyes were gleaming bright.
"It's alright. You've done enough taking care of the shop and my family. And I promised you a hunt. I keep my promises." Roy hunkered over and cut the monster up. Subdragons were worth a ton. And since the basilisk had stats that were over twenty, Roy was one step closer to being an advance witcher.
Kantilla paused for a moment. "Then I'll make a pair of necklaces out of its claws and teeth. One of them is for you."
Roy agreed.
"Thanks, partner. Next time I find a big one, I’ll come for you again." She breathed down his neck.
"Yeah."
"Your 'hunting dog' is injured."
"Thanks for your concern." Roy tucked the mutagen into his inventory space and looked at Gryphon. The beast was munching on the herbs to heal itself. "Gryphon was born with really fast regeneration."
Roy activated his mount's healing skill. His Mana was slowly getting drained while Gryphone's injuries were healing at a blistering pace.
The beast quickly approached its master and rubbed its furry head against Roy's leg.
***
Once done with the basilisk's carcass, the hunters cleaned themselves in the nearby river.
Kantilla returned to Novigrad with some teeth and claws. She was going to make a pair of necklaces out of them. On the other hand, Roy rode Gryphon and flew back to the orphanage.
Yellow was the sky, the setting sun sprinkling the last of its golden rays upon the orphanage.
The new alchemy lab stood on the classroom's right, and Letho was explaining the basic steps to make potions to a few children in the lab. These three children were picked from the regular kids. They loved alchemy and had a talent for it. These kids were Vicki, Renee, and a short boy named Conrad.
Standing behind the children was the familiar alchemy workshop. Purses of dried herbs stood on the surface. There were also mortars, pestles, and a bubbling cauldron.
Roy paused for a bit. Alchemy had been part of his life so far in his witcher career. Over the last few months, he had mastered five new decoctions, including Black Blood.
He turned his attention to the yard. About twenty yards away from the orphanage, a furnace made of bricks stood underneath a rickety wooden roof. Flames roared within, and Vesemir was standing around it. He wore a thick grey cotton apron and a pair of cotton gloves. In his left hand was a charcoal clip, and with it, he extracted the burning red base of an item.
Then he put it on the work surface and held up a hammer with his other hand. He brought it down on the base, hitting it at a specific rhythm, turning it around as he shaped the final product.
Sparks flickered in the air like fireflies, and the outline of an item slowly formed. A pair of children in aprons—Quintus and Fyodor—stared at the old man intently, listening to him as he spoke. Within their eyes, stars sparkled. Like the three kids earlier, this pair was chosen for their talent.
Standing nearby were a row of hoes and pitchforks.
***
Roy kept staring at his left. Standing outside the fence were the fields, where carrots, turnips, and spinach grew. Auckes and Serrit were swinging their hoes down, teaching Oreo, Terry, and Bhim how to till the soil and plant the seeds for veggies and eggplants.
The young witcher was taken back to that day three months ago, and he was amused. After the kids started to learn how to read and write, none of them were too eager to be full-time farmers. It wasn't until the witchers promised to teach them archery and traps did three kids fall for the offer.
***
Four little silhouettes stood on the training grounds. Monti, Acamuthorm, Charname, and Lloyd were sweating from the training they were doing, but still they swung their practice swords, practicing their basic stances from the high stance to the tail stance. They were still too weak to pose any threat, but their stances were decent.
A white-haired witcher was pointing out all the little mistakes they would make, correcting their stances even more.
***
"Done with the basilisk, Roy?" Lambert and Aiden emerged from the woods. "You didn't need any help?" He winked at the young witcher.
"Nope. But I had Gryphon to help me out." Roy tossed a black talon to Lambert.
"She's not even a year old. Don't take her on these dangerous missions." Lambert froze and stared at the creature flying in the skies above the orphanage. "Can't you convince her? Let us have a turn. We should have the same privilege as the children."
Roy set up a new reward for the kids. Anyone who did well could ride the griffin under his supervision.
The witchers were shocked at first, but eventually they accepted the fact that Gryphon was actually a griffin and not a shapeshifter. After all the surprises Roy sprung on them, one more to the list wasn't earth-shattering anymore.
In fact, some of the witchers wanted to ride the beast and soar through the skies, but the proud griffin refused to do it. It only tolerated the children because Roy was around, and that was already bad enough. Having witchers on its back was unacceptable.
Gryphon tossed a patch of grass, and it hit Lambert squarely on the forehead. A roar of disdain escaped its beak, and Lambert caught the patch of grass sadly.
"What about you guys? Caught the kidnappers?"
"Been going at it for four months. Those bastards aren't rearing their ugly heads anymore." Aiden shook his head. "The operation with Chappelle is a great success. Those petty criminals are in hiding now."
Over the last few months, the witchers contacted Chappelle through Gawain, and they included him in the alliance. In order to consolidate his position in the church, Chappelle came up with a new policy and doubled down on preventing human trafficking in Novigrad.
As his allies, the witchers helped out with this mission. The brotherhood's members patrolled the streets and cracked down on ten groups of kidnappers and slave catchers. For their hard work, they were rewarded with a thousand crowns. The higher-ups didn't take to this well, but Chappelle and Gawain handled that part of the operation.
This operation inspired a script by Dandelion and Priscilla. A show applauding the witchers was created, touting them as 'the protectors of Novigrad,' 'the allies who tread the line between good and evil.'
The ballroom and apothecary shop were doing well as usual.
"Kiyan and Felix are still in the lab, aren't they? It's been more than four months. Wonder how it’s going," Lambert muttered under his breath.
A loud bang tore through the air out of nowhere, and a square door appeared beside the orphanage's yard.
All the witchers in the classroom, alchemy lab, smithy, and fields looked at the portal. Then out came Lytta, her lips crimson, and her dress black. She looked around and finally found the witcher whom she hadn't seen in a while.
Scent of roses wafted through the air as Lytta skipped up to the young witcher. She gave him a tight hug and pushed herself up onto her tiptoes. And then they kissed.
The children in the classroom were shocked. Their jaws dropped. On the other hand, the reserve apprentices stared in silence. They were reminded of what Carl told them before he left.
Geralt smacked them on their heads.
Lambert was jealous and furious. "You're kissing right in front of everyone! Can't you get a room, you two? We have children here!"
"Ahem."
"Shut up and fuck a cow, Lambert!" An angry Lytta turned around and shot him a look.
The witcher froze, and his face fell. Goddammit. For the first time in his life, he regretted having too much to drink that night.
Aiden almost laughed, but he turned his head away.
Lytta straightened Roy's clothes out, but she had a solemn look on her face. Her frown was deep, and she said, "Witchers, it is time. Come with me."
Vesemir had made his appearance, anticipation hiding in his eyes. "I take it you're saying…"
Everyone was waiting with bated breath.
"Carl's Trial is coming to an end."
***
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