NOVEL SIMPLE 98. New Monster.
"Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit!"
The cacophonous cries of the monsters shattered the tranquility by Killer's Lake. Allen drew his silver sword, Elsa, holding it at mid-length. His sharp eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, committing the environment to memory, and then focused warily ahead.
"Crunch, crunch, crunch!"
The snow crunched underfoot as three drowners charged simultaneously from the dense forest. Behind them, partially obscured by trees, several more blue figures followed.
"At least ten drowners!" Allen estimated. The number was a bit high. "But it's just drowners; I can handle it," Allen's expression turned serious.
The nearest three drowners were already two steps away, about to leap at Allen. He didn't retreat but advanced instead, taking the initiative. Taking advantage of the gap between these three drowners and the rest of the monsters, he stepped forward with his right foot, closing in on the creatures before they could react.
With a spin, "Slash!" Silver light flashed, instantly decapitating the three drowners.
The black-red blood, steaming in the cold, spattered onto the pure white snow, melting it. He quickly retreated, evading two more monsters' attacks. The nearest drowner's claws came within an arm's length of Allen's face, but he remained unfazed. Spinning, the silver blade fell. Another spin, and the blade struck again.
From a distance, Allen's movements resembled a dancer on ice—elegant and skillful. With each motion, dark red blood sprayed, decorating the snowy stage for his deadly dance. In no time, six drowners lay on the cold, hard "carpet" of red snow. Allen didn't even break a sweat.
"Refreshing!"
He couldn't help but shout in exhilaration. The dual-handed wolf school sword had not proven very useful during the mountain trial. Against the old spearhead and the drowner king, Allen's primary tactic was to pit the monsters against each other, using ice spear spells to incite their mutual hatred, balancing their strengths without requiring advanced sword skills.
But this time was different!
The wolf school swordsmanship was specifically designed by wolf school witchers for slaying monsters. The core of the technique was the spin, which fundamentally relied on prediction. When you spun to build momentum for a strike, you had to predict the target's position post-spin, enabling a precise decapitation. Thus, it was a skill based on hunting experience: the more monsters you killed, the more adept you became at this swordsmanship against them, like gaining a special attack skill against that type of monster.
These effects were reflected in the skill:
Level 1: Wolf School Dual-Handed Sword - Skilled Actions;
Level 2: Mastery of Balance and Footwork;
Level 3: Instilled experience for dealing with common monsters in the brain and muscles.
Therefore, Allen's attacks were smooth and fluid, like water. The joy of such rapid improvement in skill was indescribable. Simply put: if the monsters are indeed weak, then facing them in numbers makes Allen happy.
The drowners didn't stop out of courtesy due to Allen's exuberant shout. The remaining seven drowners charged, "ribbit, ribbit, ribbit," undeterred by their companions' deaths. Allen gauged the distance, curling his right middle finger and pushing it forward. Aard sign. Though his telekinetic sign was only level one, it was enough to disrupt their balance.
Invisible force shot from his palm. The aggressive drowners stepped onto the blood-stained, icy ground; the force caused them to stumble over one another and fall. Allen, wearing winter boots designed for grip, had to worry about slipping; how much worse would it be for the slime-covered drowners?
Clearly, the rarity of seeing drowners in winter had a reason. Allen strolled over, quickly calculating his decapitation route. "Crunch, crunch, crunch." The anti-slip boots trod on the snow. The drowners' reaper approached!
"Something's wrong!"
After slaying two more drowners, Allen felt something amiss. In winter, drowners shouldn't be this active. Though they didn't hibernate, low temperatures would reduce their physiological activities and diminish their hostility. Moreover, the Killer's Lake area had been recently cleared. Where did such aggressive drowners come from?
He had made only a little noise with his boots in the snow, and suddenly a horde of drowners appeared. This was wrong! Very wrong! With this thought, Allen's previously relaxed nerves tightened. He maintained his decapitation route while keeping an eye on his surroundings, fully opening his witcher senses.
As expected, just as he decapitated another drowner and swung Elsa towards the next target, "Buzz!" His wolf medallion vibrated. A head-sized snowball suddenly flew at him from the side.
"Whoosh—"
The wind whistled; the snowball's speed was far beyond what a normal snowball should have. Fortunately, Allen was already on high alert. He abandoned the remaining four drowners without hesitation, ducking behind a dead tree. "Bang!" The snowball hit the tree, shaking it and causing branches and snow to fall. The white shell scattered, revealing a core of mud and stones.
If Allen had been hit, his body wouldn't have been killed, but he would have been seriously hurt. Allen squinted, looking in the snowball's direction. An ugly humanoid monster appeared between two large trees. Though crouched, it was at least two meters tall, with bones tied around its arms and bone protrusions on its back. Its sharp teeth jutted out, its eyes were deathly white, and its hair resembled tangled waterweed. At a glance, it looked like an ordinary old crone.
Seeing Allen, the monster drooled black-yellow saliva from between its sharp teeth, indicating long hunger.
"Water Hag!"
Allen instantly recognized the monster. Vesemir's first "Monster Studies" class was on "Drowners and Water Hags," so he had some knowledge of this creature.
"No wonder these drowners are so active. There's a monster controlling them from behind." Fortunately, this was snow and not a swamp. The Water Hag's bulky body moved slowly on land, only quick in water and marshes. It was probably slow due to Allen's quick kills, missing coordination with the leading drowners.
If it had caught him in a prolonged fight with the drowners and attacked from behind... Well, nothing would've happened! Allen still had his level 3 Quen shield.
"Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit!"
Allen looked over; the four drowners had regained their footing, angrily croaking. "Huh?" As his gaze shifted from the drowners to the Water Hag, he noticed something alarming—the Water Hag was gone.
...….
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100. Pyramid.
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102. How to Increase Critical Hit Rate?
103. Plan Failed.