After our midday break, we packed up our things. Ciri, quiet and calm, sat on Roach, while I walked beside Geralt, who held the reins. The sun was starting to sink, casting longer shadows across the path, and the air was still warm but felt a bit heavy, charged with a tension I couldn't quite explain.
We approached the village, and as we moved closer, the houses looked more and more rundown. Some were abandoned, others seemed to have been attacked, with broken windows and doors creaking slightly in the breeze. When we reached the central square, I noticed several villagers gathered together, murmuring amongst themselves and casting nervous glances in our direction.
"What's going on?" I asked, watching them.
Geralt, alert, murmured quietly, "Stay on guard."
He turned to Ciri, who had stayed a bit behind. "Ciri, keep Roach here."
She nodded without a word, but I could see in her eyes that her mind was somewhere else, probably still dealing with things weighing on her. I wanted to say something to her, to show her that I was here, but before I could move, Geralt's firm hand rested on my shoulder. He gave me a serious look.
"She has to face all this on her own. She knows you're there if she needs you, but right now, she has to learn to fight her own battles."
I nodded, even though I didn't like it. Geralt had a straightforward way of looking at things, almost cold, but deep down, I knew he was right. He was testing me too, and I had to learn to accept the lessons he offered, even the hard ones.
We moved toward the group, and the villagers' whispers grew clearer.
"What are we going to do?" one of them said, voice trembling.
"It's a monster, I'm telling you…"
"Only another monster can stop it."
Their voices died down when they saw us. An old man stepped forward—probably the mayor. His clothes were worn, and his face showed lines of worry. He glanced at Geralt before stepping back slightly, looking shaken by Geralt's witcher eyes.
"A… a mutant!" he stammered.
"A mutant, here?!" another whispered, disbelief on his face.
A villager muttered something to the mayor. "With the war, there are necrophages everywhere. They come in packs. Maybe they can deal with it…"
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their gazes on us. I turned to the mayor, trying to look confident.
"What monster is giving you trouble?" I asked.
The mayor hesitated, glancing at the other villagers before he answered, his voice slightly shaky. "It's a beast… on four legs. It roams near the houses at night, and… we managed to trap it in the barn."
He pointed toward an old barn a little farther away, a broken-down structure with a cart pushed against the door to keep it shut. A chill ran down my spine, but I clenched my fists to hide my apprehension.
Geralt turned slightly toward me. "Aiden, do you want to take this contract?"
Surprised, I looked up at him. It was rare for him to ask my opinion like this—he always seemed to know exactly what to do.
"Yes," I answered after a second of hesitation. "I'm ready."
Geralt nodded, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he was measuring my response. He never clearly told me what he thought, but even a quick look like that felt like a test. It felt like he was waiting to see if I could handle it.
Geralt then drew his silver sword and handed it to me. The cold weight of the blade surprised me. I looked up at him, seeking an explanation.
"This is your contract, Aiden," he said, calm and sure of himself. "It's yours to handle. But if things go south, I'll step in."
The wind had picked up, stirring up some dust. The sun was dipping behind the houses, casting a threatening shadow over the barn. The atmosphere had grown heavier. The mayor muttered in a low voice:
"The beast… it leaves strange marks, like twisted claws. And it screams… screams that chill you to the bone."
My heart beat faster with each word. The barn in front of me looked dark and menacing. Feeling Geralt's gaze on me, I took a deep breath and tightened my grip on the sword. This was my first real test, and I couldn't fail in front of Geralt.
"All right," I said, trying to hide my apprehension and show I was ready.
Geralt and I moved toward the barn. Low growls escaped from within, full of hunger and rage. The main door was clearly not a good option. I scanned the surroundings and spotted a slightly open window higher up. An old ladder rested against a nearby cart. My heart started to race; it felt like every decision mattered. I took the ladder and set it up under the window, trying not to show my nerves. Geralt, meanwhile, was staring at the cart, looking thoughtful.
"Geralt, what are you doing?" I whispered, uncertain.
"Nothing," he replied simply. Then, without hurry, he moved toward the ladder and climbed up first. I took a deep breath and followed him.
As soon as I entered the barn, an overwhelming stench of rot and decay hit me, making me nauseous. I fought to keep from throwing up. Looking down, I saw four bodies sprawled on the floor, limbs twisted and scattered in unnatural positions. Two ghouls, faces smeared with blood, were hunched over them, tearing into the flesh and crunching the bones. The harsh, disgusting sound of their jaws sent a chill up my spine.
"The mayor didn't tell us there were dead bodies here…" I whispered, disgusted.
Geralt leaned toward me slightly, speaking in a calm voice, as if making an observation. "They're ghouls, necrophages. They can smell corpses from miles away. Their claws can cut through armor easily." He pulled a small bottle from his pouch and handed it to me. "This is necrophage oil. Coat your blade with it—it'll act like poison on them. It'll weaken them with every strike."
I took the bottle and poured the oil onto my blade, trying to keep my hands steady despite the stress. The blade seemed to shine strangely in the dim barn light, adding a sense of danger to the moment. My heart was pounding harder and harder. This was my first real fight against these creatures, and the idea of disappointing Geralt or messing up twisted my stomach.
As I prepared to go down, Geralt put a firm hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "Don't make any useless moves. Don't think of them as humans. They're hunters, and they track their prey without mercy."
I nodded, trying to take in his advice. These weren't creatures you could play around with, and they were probably waiting for me to make a single mistake. My mind was racing, caught between fear and determination. It felt like everything could fall apart in a single second.
I climbed down the ladder quietly and hid behind a bale of hay. My mind was racing. This was my moment—I had to think fast and stay in control. I had the element of surprise. But as I planned my first strike, a sense of danger washed over me. Without thinking, I dove to the ground. A ghoul lunged in my direction, landing where I'd been a second earlier.
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst. My instinct had saved me, but I had also made a mistake: because of the pain from my previous injury, I'd forgotten that they could smell blood. They had been waiting for me to slip up.
I cursed myself inwardly, frustrated at my own stupidity and overconfidence. This wasn't just an exercise. Every move mattered, every hesitation could cost me. I kept dodging, but the space around me was shrinking. One of the ghoul's claws grazed my shoulder, and the pain made me grit my teeth. I stepped back a few paces, eyes locked on the two ghouls watching me, their eyes filled with that insatiable hunger.
I tried to calm down, to quiet the fear boiling inside me. I took a deep breath. That's when I noticed something: one of the ghouls was limping slightly, one of its back legs injured. It would be slower to jump at me. It was an opportunity, but I had to be smart about it.
I grabbed a bale of hay and threw it at the uninjured ghoul, making it back off slightly. The other ghoul, the one with the limp, leapt at me, ready to bite. This was what I'd been waiting for. I stepped back, and the creature landed heavily right in front of me, unable to get back up in time. Without hesitating, I raised my sword and drove it into its head.
A brief wave of satisfaction washed over me. I'd done it. But my pride didn't last long. The second ghoul lunged at me, its claws slashing my shoulder and leg. The pain was sharp, but I fought back, kicking it away. It landed on a pitchfork that had been left on the ground, and I seized my chance. With a quick strike, I finished the creature.
Panting, hurting, and exhausted, I heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, I saw Geralt, watching me with his usual emotionless expression.
"Your sword technique is made for killing humans, not monsters. That's why you struggled."
I swallowed, bracing for more criticism.
"You're too confident. You jump into things without thinking enough. Remember: knowledge is power." He looked me over, taking a moment before adding, "The only thing that really helped you here was your instinct. It's strong. You know how to adapt."
I thought he might give me a compliment, but instead, he just said, "I'd give you five out of twenty."
"What? Only five?" I asked, shocked.
"Yes. And that's being generous. But there's a reason."
Just then, the barn door creaked open, and the villagers entered, holding pitchforks and staring at us with mocking smiles, like they'd been waiting for this moment. I stammered, completely lost.
"Why…?"
One of the men laughed. "Kid, you're really naive! Ha ha!"
I felt a mix of anger and shame welling up inside me. "You… you weren't actually in danger?"
They all burst out laughing, mocking me. I lowered my head, embarrassed that I'd been so easily fooled. Geralt put a hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, I saw him crouched beside me.
"It's okay. You still have a lot to learn," he said calmly. "But that's how you grow. You make mistakes, and you learn not to make them again."
I lowered my head, still a bit upset, but at the same time, a new determination was building inside me.
One of the bandits stepped forward impatiently. "Are you done with your little lecture?" He looked at Geralt with a sneer. "And here I thought witchers were supposed to be smart. You followed this kid like a fool."
Geralt raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "You're wrong. Thanks to you, he's learned an important lesson."
The leader of the bandits shrugged. "Whatever. Let's finish this."
Without hesitation, Geralt drew his steel sword. He glanced at the pitchforks and muttered to himself, "I hate pitchforks…"
Then he launched himself at them. It was a swift, brutal massacre.
Once we were outside, with the bandits dealt with and their bodies burned to avoid attracting more ghouls, Geralt led me to a cart. Inside, I saw stolen goods. Near the doorway of a house, a trail of dried blood marked the ground. Clearly, these people weren't helpless villagers.
Geralt turned to me, his expression serious. "There's something important you need to understand," he said in a firm tone. "I didn't say anything earlier because I wanted you to figure things out for yourself."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Always pay attention to the facts, Aiden. Let them guide you. Listen to what people say, but don't trust their words blindly. Words can lie—facts can't."
I nodded, still feeling a bit ashamed, but more determined this time. This was a real lesson. Geralt ruffled my hair slightly, almost like a father would.
"Come on, let's go. Get some rest. You'll need it."
I nodded, my heart feeling a bit lighter. In his eyes, I think he saw that I understood the lesson. As he walked away, a faint smile crossed his face—something I didn't get to see.
Murmuring to himself, he said softly, "And there it is, your best quality: you learn quickly, and you don't give up."
Then, glancing up at the sky, a shadow of sadness crossed his gaze.
"I envy you, Aiden," he murmured, almost as if talking to someone else. "I gave up. I let go like a coward."
He sighed, as if dismissing the memory, and walked back to the camp, ready to meditate.