The darkness of the night had draped over the forest. Shadows danced before the sole bonfire as the witchers circled each other. Their eyes met, and to them, nothing else mattered but the sparring partner before them. They were like beasts, waiting for the perfect chance to pounce at their prey.
Serrit leaped ahead, the leaves beneath him jostling and floating into the air. He swung his steel sword upward, the air buzzing from his speed. The sword arced toward the silhouette in front of him. The silhouette swung its light, narrow blade ahead, sliding down the back of Serrit’s sword. Sparks flew, and the silhouette pushed the attack’s momentum away.
Felix put his weight on his left leg, turning clockwise. He evaded the attack and thrusted his blade at Serrit’s waist at the same time. The attack missed. Serrit leaped backward, but Felix clung to him like a leech to its host, the tip of his blade still pointing at Serrit’s vitals.
Serrit gave up running away and stood still, but he swung his blade around, forming a defensive wall in front of him, attacking Felix at every angle, but Felix managed to dodge them all. Sounds of metals clashing against each other screeched into the night.
Felix moved around like a phantom. Every attack Serrit made passed through him like he was just a ball of fog. At the same time, it looked like two Felixes were attacking the wall of blades in front of Serrit. It was like waves that kept crashing at the reef of the coast. It went on and on, unending until the end of time.
Felix would leap back every time Serrit blocked his attack, making space for him to jump away from his counterthrust. At the same time, he turned around and readjusted himself to stand in a position to attack his back or abdomen.
The sparks created by the clashing of the metals illuminated the darkness of the forest. Felix’s swordsmanship was simple and straight to the point. There were no feints at all. Every attack was swift, deadly, and precise. It was the art of an assassin. Eventually, beads of sweat started forming on Serrit’s forehead. He could only defend himself thanks to his strength advantage.
There were only a few times where he could counterattack, but Felix was as slippery as an eel. All of Serrit’s counterattacks missed.
The battle turned more and more intense as time went on. The two witchers eventually fell into a stalemate, and Felix lost his patience. He leaped back and held his steel sword overhead, then he spun around. His strength and momentum swung the sword ahead, and Serrit was forced to retreat.
Felix backed off, but he kept the spinning blade dance going on. His sword spun, as well as his wrist and body. The air around him buzzed, and leaves flew into the air. Felix stepped forward, swinging at least five times in just a single moment. The witcher was like a storm of blades, covering him and Serrit alike.
Serrit failed to dodge in time, and the sharp winds from the attacks shaved off a lock of his hair. He barely managed to defend himself, then he rolled on the ground and backed off from the battleground.
“That’s enough, Vulture! Stop!” Serrit cast Quen, and the yellow shield covered him.
Felix kept going on, but his blade stopped five feet away from Serrit. He took a deep breath and slowly sheathed his sword. The blade vortex lasted for mere seconds, but it exhausted him more than the whole battle combined. He was already drenched in sweat.
“It’s my loss,” Serrit said. He was overwhelmed in terms of swordsmanship alone, but it did not discourage him. If he was allowed to use his signs and everything he knew, the outcome could have been different.
Serrit’s companions were in awe of the battle. He was the third best swordsman in their school, and nobody expected a witcher who came out of nowhere to overwhelm and force him to cast a sign. It was not something they saw every day. The witchers were not discouraged, however. A sparring of the blades was not the same as a life-and-death battle. The ebb and flow of battles would change every moment, and victory was uncertain until the end.
“You’re not half bad either, Serrit,” Felix praised. “You’re one of the top ten swordsmen in my personal list. My body would have given out if we had kept that up.”
“You’re just being modest. A win is a win. But I have a question. What was with that blade vortex?” Serrit had a swig of wine to chase his frustration off.
“It’s a Cat School secret,” Felix said curtly, and Serrit did not pry.
Roy did not tell him about his plans about the alliance just yet. He still had a lot of time for that.
***
“Hey kid!” Auckes was finally calling someone besides Roy that. This time, he was talking to Carl. He looked really beautiful after the grime and dirt was washed off his face. The boy looked more like a girl, given that he was scrawny, and his voice had not changed yet. “Are you crossdressing or something?”
Auckes was giving him a weird look, and Carl retreated into Felix’s embrace. He was starting to feel intimidated that a lot of burly witchers were staring at him. Their feline eyes were unnerving him.
“Shut up, you oaf!” Serrit came to Auckes side and gave the boy a reassuring gaze, but that only scared him more. “Do you think Vulture is blind? Carl can’t be an apprentice witcher if he’s a girl.” Girls could not be witchers, or that was the case in this world.
“It doesn’t matter even if Carl is a girl.” Felix patted the boy’s head, and what he said next shocked the witchers. “The Cat School’s potion works on girls as well. We accept girls into our fold too.”
The witchers were shaken to their cores.
“I have never seen a female witcher all my life…” Auckes muttered to himself. Serrit and Letho shared his sentiment as well. Female witchers were even rarer than endangered animals. For some reason, they started envying the Cat School. It would have been great if the Viper School had some girls too.
Roy’s eyes shone. He was starting to get a lot of ideas, and he thought of Ciri. Wonder how she is doing now? He muttered, “A little girl growing up in a witcher school. Grows up to be a witcher and scouts out more girls to be new witchers. Hmm…” He thought of something really weird. “The Girl Effect?”
Roy held his ideas down and rode up to Felix. He handed the witcher a bottle of white lotion.
“What the hell is this?”
“Vulture, your apprentice will need it tonight. Trust me on that.” Roy smiled at him.
***
Not everyone was as lively as Roy. As expected, Carl started screaming right after they set up camp for the night. Riding on horseback the whole day was torture for Carl, who had no experience on horseback riding before. A layer of skin was peeled off from his crotch. It looked frightening. Roy was reminded of the days he set off on his journey with Letho. He went through the same nightmare, but fortunately the lotion helped with his condition.
***
However, something worse happened the next morning. The recent tragedy took its toll on Carl, and the witchers’ emergence made him ease up too much. He came down with some kind of sickness. Carl started having fevers and a case of diarrhea. He was dragging the witchers down severely.
***
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