Chapter 218: Goodbye
It was a quiet night in the rural area of Vizima. Abandoned fields were taken over by weed and bushes. Suddenly, one of the burclover bushes rustled, and a pair of long ears popped out from it. A moment later, an adult grey rabbit hopped out of it. It looked around and confirmed that the coast was clear before it came close and nibbled on the bush’s leaves.
A half-eagle, half-lion beast was lying quietly on a banyan tree five yards away. It was hiding in the shadows where the moonlight could not reach. The beast had melded with the trunk, staring straight at its prey. It did not attack right away, however. The beast hid in the shadows, unmoving and waiting for its chance.
One second had passed. Two seconds had passed. Three seconds had passed… Eventually, the beast pushed the trunk with its claws and flapped its wings as it flew up into the sky. It then charged downward like a dark meteorite falling to the ground. The moment it landed, a powerful air current pushed the bushes down. The claws on the tip of its right wing closed together, locking the petite prey in a cage.
“Nice job, Gryphon!” A slender silhouette came out from a bush a bit of a distance away from where the beast was. He made a loud whistle, and the beast lifted its claw. The poor rabbit was curled up on the ground in fear. It did nothing as the griffin licked it all over. Even though it had regained its freedom, the rabbit did not make a run for it. The fear of the apex predator was carved in its soul, keeping it from resisting.
Gryphon turned around, its eyes gleaming with the desire for meat. It just had two muskrats earlier, but the beast was still hungry.
“You’re already a big eater, and you’re only six months old!” Roy nodded.
The sound of flesh being torn screeched into the night as Gryphon tore its prey apart with its claws and beak. The rabbit was nothing but bones when Gryphon was done with it. Chunks of flesh hung from its skeletal remains, but Gryphon did not clean it up. It craned its neck and gurgled happily. It then lay on the ground and licked the blood from its claws and feathers.
It was the fourth day of Gryphon’s training. The beast had shown marked improvement. Gryphon could glide five yards now, which was more than double its initial flight distance. There was still a long way away from true flight, but at least it would not fall the moment it flew into the air.
Gryphon showed an even more surprising improvement in its hunting skills. Being locked for six months in a cage did not impede its instincts as a predator at all. It inherited its parents’ hunting instincts. The young griffin was already making its way toward a top predator without any guidance.
Roy witnessed the whole process. Griffins hunted in a different way compared to feline creatures. It was too conspicuous and moved too loudly to hunt from the bushes. Griffins attacked from the sky, just like eagles and vultures did. They would pierce their prey with their claws, their momentum from charging straight down granting them immense strength. If an aerial attack was not viable, they would stick to the ground and store up energy in their hind legs, waiting for the perfect chance for them to pounce at their prey. Once the prey was pinned down, the griffin would tear it into pieces.
Gryphon was only six months old, but it was already powerful enough to kill an adult human. Once it grew even larger, it could even threaten a witcher. And once it grows even bigger, I’m going to have it fight monsters with me. “Gryphon.” Roy brushed his hand along the griffin’s back.
The griffin gurgled.
“You’ve had muskrats and rabbits. Why don’t we change your menu tomorrow? Wanna hunt something bigger? How do stray dogs and boars sound?”
The griffin gurgled happily.
Roy’s crystal shot out a beam of light, and the griffin disappeared into thin air. What took its place was a fat orange tabby.
The crystal chandelier filled Kalkstein’s laboratory with a warm yellow light. Roy looked up and raised a bottle of murky concoction. The witcher started shaking it as hard as he could, and the bottle left afterimages in the air. The liquid started to spin and had a change in color. It turned from white to black, then to red, and finally it became a multicolored potion. In the end, the witcher made one final movement, and the potion turned into a beautiful ocean blue. It was like a work of art.
“Perfectly done.” Kalkstein looked at the potion, and he gave it his seal of approval. “Congratulations on hitting all the goals.”
Before he left, Kalkstein reminded him, “Roy, here’s some advice before you leave. Weapons and battles are a witcher’s bread and butter. You need that to make a living, but don’t spend all your time on that. Don’t waste it on women and wine either. You’re young and full of potential. Spend more time on alchemy. It’s better anyway.”
“Thanks. Here’s some advice in return.” Roy said, “Never try to attack the Lady of the Lake or Princess Adda.”
Kalkstein saw the young witcher off, then he whipped his quill and notebook out to make another entry.
‘Twentieth of August, 1261.
When was the last time I made an entry? Five years ago? Fifteen years ago? The experiments have worn off their novelty. Their monotony is nothing but a bore. Spending all my days making journal entries is gnawing away at my soul.
There’s such a thing as living for too long. The more I know, the less I get excited. It’s easier to find an endangered species than something that can excite me. I think this is the bottleneck of my life. That, or I might be spiraling down into depression.
However, something interesting has happened lately, and it has kept my condition at bay. I wish to make an entry about that.
A bizarre witcher caught my attention. For over two hundred years, I thought witchers were nothing but armed barbarians who found their company among beasts and monsters, but this witcher changed my perception of them.
He is obviously young and inexperienced. He’s rash and impulsive. When I first knew him, I thought of him as cheap labor. He’s extraordinarily obsessive about jewelry and coins, but he showed no such passion when it came to priceless knowledge.
Knowledge is the absolute truth. I spent my whole life searching for it, but he gave it away just to curry a sorceress’ favor. Calling him a fool would be an understatement. If nothing else happens, I will never ask for him again after our contract is fulfilled. He fails to see the bigger picture.
However, surprises happen when you expect them the least. He gave me a presentation of his potionmaking. I intended to just take a look and send him on his way, but by truth’s name, that witcher is faster and more precise than any alchemist who makes potions with magic. He’s a walking alchemical machine. Every move he makes is perfect.
How did his witcher mentor fool this young man into pursuing the trade of a monster slayer? Damn you, Law of Surprise!
Speaking of which, I think alchemists should come up with a similar rule as well. Maybe we’d get a talented apprentice or two, but I digress. The young witcher is far more talented than I had imagined. He is a quick learner, and I am not saying that lightly. He mastered one recipe in just a single day. Not even I had that kind of talent back in my younger days.
Yes, I am jealous of him. That’s why the recipes I taught him are horseshit. Well, most of them anyway. Still, I watch his career with eager eyes. He will see great success one day if he pursues the path of alchemy.
A shame he’s a witcher.”
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