The Divine Hunter

A blackish-brown boat tied to a protruding boulder sat quietly between the lakeweed. Lambert untied the boat and hopped onto it. Then he rowed. Roy took up the bow happily and scooped up some lakewater to clean the blood off his armor.

As he stared at the fog-covered hills and glimmering lake, a delightful sensation bubbled within his heart. "This is a good place to talk about the past. Lambert, care to tell me how you came to Kaer Morhen?"

"Just a banal story." Lambert didn't mind talking about his past. "Drunk dad went for a piss in the woods at night and stumbled upon a nekker lair. The passing witcher saved his butt and said a few magical words before bringing up the Law of Surprise. Demands 'the first thing he sees when he gets back home' as a reward. Namely me. So I was given in exchange for that pissant's life, and next thing I know, Kaer Morhen." He tilted his head and smirked. "Eat, slept, shat, and trained together with a bunch of apprentices, passed the Trial, and became 'a mutant that does acrobatics.'"

Roy stayed silent. I guess most witchers don't have a happy childhood. "A drunk dad? Most alcoholics have a short fuse. Did he ever abuse you?"

"Told you he was a pissant. Course he did. And my mother was usually dragged into it too."

"So Vesemir saved you, in a sense." Roy said, "He won't do anything to you if you were to go home now."

"I did return once, but that old bastard was already six feet under. Killed my mother before he went though." Lambert teared up a little. "I could have helped her out if Vesemir hadn't taken me. Maybe she would have lived."

"No. If he hadn't taken you with him, your father would have killed you as well," Roy said solemnly. "Vesemir truly changed your life. He took you away from constant abuse."

"So you mean to say I should thank him for subjecting me to training that's far worse than any beating I got? Should I thank him for letting me witness my best friend get torn apart by that cyclops?" Lambert stopped rowing and sneered. "What did Vesemir feed you? Why are you defending him?"

"I'm just telling the truth. Think about the power and skills you have, Lambert. Think about the freedom you're enjoying. There's always a price to pay for that."

"Not by my volition. He forced me into this!"

"Will you take your own students then?" Roy asked a weird question.

"Why not? If I can find one, that is," Lambert answered without hesitation.

Roy shot a question. "If you think being a witcher is hell, then why would you extend this hell to someone else?"

"Um…" Lambert had no answer for that. Yeah, if I hate my job so much, why would I want to take in an apprentice?

***

They reached the other side of the lake and crashed into the soft soil. Lambert leapt onto land in unusual silence.

Roy followed him. A short while later, he was about to say something, but then the young witcher stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air. "Smell that? Rotten stench of water."

The witchers unsheathed their blades and hunkered down a little. Their muscles tensed up as they got ready for battle. With swords in their right hands and Quen shield surrounding them, the witchers were ready to take on the unknown enemies.

Bubbles appeared on the surface of the water around the reeds as if it were boiling. And then a big splash burst forth before a slimy humanoid with webbed limbs and green scales hopped out of the reeds. More came after the first one, and eventually, a group of six formed.

The scent of fresh meat whipped the drowners into a frenzy. They rolled their eyes around and snarled viciously at the witchers.

While they were charging the witchers, Roy gushed, "Lambert, this fortress is a treasure trove of monsters!" He swung his blade and pointed it at the drowner who looked different from its brethren.

It was blackish-green in color. A pair of gills jutted out around its ears, and catfish whiskers decorated its lower lip. Its beady pupils within the crimson eyes shone with cunning as it ran toward its prey.

'Vodnik

Age: Eight years old

HP: 100

Strength: 7

Dexterity: 7

Constitution: 10

Perception: 4

Will: 2

Charisma: 0

Spirit: 0

Skills:

Mutated Body Level 10: Some would say drowners are incarnations of people who met their demise in the waters, but they have a distinctly different, non-human body structure. It is possible that drowners are magical beings or invaders left behind by the Conjunction of the Spheres. They're immune to poison and bleeding.

Leader (Passive): This one is a leader of this pack. It's slightly more intelligent than its brethren. Possesses the ability to command and organize its pack members.'

***

"I know you love these monsters. Look at them, they love giving warm welcomes. Say hi!" Lambert leapt ahead, swinging his blade at three drowners at the same time.

Roy followed quickly and stopped the other three before they could surround Lambert. He joined the fray and held Aerondight up horizontally. The young witcher put his weight into his left leg and spun in the direction of the drowners. A crimson line zipped through the air, and blood rained down the battlefield.

One drowner was sliced in half, and its guts spilled to the ground. He sent the second drowner flying back with Aard, and it fell with a thud.

A gust of wind blew his hair, and the vodnik ambushed him from the side. It went straight for the witcher's neck, its viscous, disgusting drool almost dripping down to Roy's shoulder.

Roy's forearm tensed up, and he flicked his sword hilt upward without even looking back.

The hilt slammed into the monster's cheek and shut its maw close. Blood spurted like a fountain, and the vodnik's tongue fell out of its mouth.

Roy turned around and gave the monster's lower belly a kick that made it keel over. While the monster was howling and wobbling, Roy held his blade's unedged midsection with one hand and the hilt with the other.

And then he thrust Aerondight down like it was a lance. Blood drenched the reeds as Aerondight cut through the vodnik's spine.

'Vodnik killed. EXP +100. Level 7 Witcher…' Roy swung his sword backward and cut open yet another drowner without even stopping to clean the blood. He took a step forward and thrust his blade while holding it with both hands.

The young witcher pulled his blade out, and the drowner staggered backward, its eye broken. Eventually it fell and spasmed before taking its last breath.

A sigh escaped Roy's lips, and then he went to loot the bodies. Delight found its way to Roy's face as he plucked a small, wrinkled mutagen from its cold, dead body. One more to go!

Lambert's battle came to an end as well. He left the bodies behind and wiped his blade elegantly. "That was not a very nice welcome. Could've been gentler. Look at them. They look even more hideous than before." Lambert stared at the young witcher and shook his head.

"I would have been nicer if they weren't trying to bite my head off." Roy pulled on a dead drowner's tongue.

***

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