After deciding on the duel type, the two Witchers casually selected practice swords from a nearby rack, then stood on opposite sides of the training grounds.
Looking across at Aristo, with his rugged beard and dark golden cat eyes blazing with fighting spirit so intense it seemed palpable, Allen felt a spark of anticipation.
[Name: Aristo]
[Attributes: Strength 57, Agility 57, Constitution 69, Perception 71, Mysticism 39]
Aristo's attributes were fairly close to Vesemir's. His strength was a solid four points higher, giving him an edge, while other attributes were roughly comparable; his Mysticism was even three points lower.
Since Allen had recently undergone enhancement through the Path of the Beast's Roar, his strength, agility, perception, and mysticism now surpassed Aristo's. But he didn't let that make him overconfident about winning this duel.
After all, Allen had once appraised Grandmaster Sol of the Wolf School. That grandmaster's five core attributes weren't too far off from theirs either, with each attribute only five points away, except for Mysticism. Yet in battle, despite his stat boost, Allen couldn't match the grandmaster's skillful dismantling of shielded monsters with ease at Ban Ard.
Witchers weren't monsters, and true combat prowess couldn't be measured by stats alone.
Aristo's attributes essentially represented the natural limit of Witcher growth. Without external aids like essence elixirs or purified spirits, it was challenging to push these attributes any higher. However, skills like swordsmanship and signs continued to evolve with age and experience, hidden from surface appearances.
"Let's test it out!" Allen thought. "A real duel will tell me where I stand among the master ranks of the Wolf School."
"Prepare!" Vesemir's voice broke Allen's thoughts, silencing the buzzing students around them as they turned their expectant gazes to the training grounds.
Under a blanket of brooding clouds and the howling mountain wind, the two Witchers looked like mirror images, moving in sync.
With their thumbs and forefingers slightly curved, they traced a triangle in the air before them.
Quen Sign.
A faint golden glow briefly flickered over the leather armor on both Witchers, although Allen's glow was noticeably brighter than Aristo's. No further words were needed. As the light faded, the two Witchers lunged toward each other.
To Aristo, battle was just battle. Any concessions or compromises were to be considered before or after combat—not during it.
The only thing he needed to focus on in the heat of battle was winning. So he had no intention of holding back.
Not only would that be disrespectful to both sides of the fight, but if Allen couldn't withstand the first blow, it would only mean he had been too arrogant, misled by past accolades, unable to gauge his own strength.
A quick, harsh defeat would actually do him good, forcing him to wake up.
Charging into unknown enemies without assessing their strength was the worst mistake a Witcher could make. Those merciless monsters wouldn't offer second chances as he might. And the price to pay would be one's life.
Whoosh—
They moved at a blinding speed, almost challenging the wind itself, the air whistling with tension. The students around them had their hair blown back, struggling to keep their eyes open against the sudden gusts.
Squinting to catch a glimpse, they saw only blurred afterimages of the two Witcher masters, intersecting in the center.
Clang!
The sharp, metallic clash reverberated through Kaer Morhen, almost painfully loud. At the first impact of their steel swords, Aristo felt something was off.
The force conveyed through the steel bridge… how… could it be stronger than his?
Something wasn't right.
Aristo frowned and shifted back a step, planting his right foot firmly on the hard ground before launching forward again with intense force, drawing power through his muscles and bones to the sword's tip in an instant.
Clang!
Their swords clashed again. But this was just the beginning.
Taking advantage of the impact and momentum, Aristo pressed relentlessly toward Allen's centerline.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
His strikes grew fiercer with each step, like a relentless Kaer Morhen blizzard in the dead of winter, harsh and unyielding. The pressure mounted, forcing Allen backward with each blow.
Something felt wrong.
Aristo wasn't pleased by his repeated successes; instead, he frowned, baffled by how Allen, under his unrelenting assault, managed to hold steady, receiving every blow solidly.
This youngest master of the Wolf School… No, this youngest Witcher master, was indeed stronger than him.
Allen was being pushed back by the steady barrage, but only because the unbroken assault didn't allow him to fully unleash his strength.
But Aristo, a master of swordplay who knew every stance, every subtle nuance of the Wolf School's twin-handed style, could easily deduce Allen's strength limit from the reactionary force through the steel.
And it wasn't just strength.
From the firm steadiness of Allen's wrist, his stable footing, his sharp reflexes, and even the intensity of his initial Quen Sign…
Allen had achieved the pinnacle of Witcher physique in every attribute.
"How is this possible?" Aristo couldn't understand it.
Alchemy prodigies existed; swordsmanship prodigies existed; even talents with signs and sorcery existed. Witcher masters themselves were proof of that.
But how could a Witcher's physical limits be pushed this far in just half a year, reaching the peak of Witcher potential?
This defied Aristo's understanding.
Sure, Allen was gifted in alchemy, but he couldn't believe this was the result of potions alone.
He himself had consumed twenty doses of drowner heart extract, barely yielding a tiny, nearly imperceptible improvement.
For Witchers at their physical peak, progress was almost indiscernible, requiring focused awareness to notice any gains at all.
No potion could elevate a Witcher's strength from meeting standard expectations for a Witcher to… this.
Impossible.
Once a Witcher's physical prowess reached its upper limit, any natural progression was glacial.
But…
Aristo looked at Allen again, confused. Yet here he was, this perplexing exception, battling Aristo right in front of him…
Incomprehensible!
Unbelievable!
"Clang!"
After another fierce strike, Aristo used the recoil to swiftly retreat several steps, creating some distance. Although Allen had been on the defensive during the exchange, his defense was unexpectedly solid.
Not only had Allen's physical abilities improved greatly over the past six months, but his swordsmanship had advanced as well. Though it wasn't as exaggerated as his physical improvements, it was still notable.
In such an intense battle, Aristo's stamina consumption was far greater than Allen's. Continuing this pace would certainly not be favorable for him. Besides, this rough offensive approach was only to test Allen's strength; now that he had confirmed it, there was no need to waste more energy.
At this moment:
"Hiss—ha—hiss—ha—"
The first round of attacks had come to a temporary halt, leaving the Witcher apprentices who had been holding their breath gasping heavily, as if they had almost suffocated.
"Master Aristo is really strong. Commander Allen was basically being pressed the entire time…" one apprentice whispered.
"You actually saw that?!" the apprentice next to him exclaimed in surprise.
He had only seen two blurs rush toward each other, then separate quickly. He'd been hoping to learn some powerful swordsmanship techniques from the seniors, but all he saw was a blur as Allen and Aristo clashed briefly.
His peer somehow knew who was winning or losing, making him question his own perception.
"Nope!" the other apprentice replied confidently.
"Then why…?"
"Because Commander Allen's position is much farther back than before; that must mean Master Aristo drove him back…"
"Shh!" Erni, standing at the front of the group, shot them a sharp glance.
Not only did those two apprentices fall silent instantly, but the surrounding apprentices also stopped whispering. Erni's authority seemed to be high within their little circle.
"To hold his ground against Master Aristo like that, Commander Allen is already very strong," Erni explained with a frown once the group was quiet. "You all need to understand that Commander Allen is only fourteen, while Master Aristo is, who knows, maybe hundreds of years old."
"Given the age gap, it's remarkable that Master Aristo, on the offensive, hasn't been able to break through Commander Allen's defense."
The two apprentices exchanged looks, realization dawning on their faces. When put like that, it really was impressive.
If Allen, only fourteen, could hold his own against Aristo, in a year or two, he might even defeat Aristo…or, no, maybe even surpass the famed Grandmaster Sol who could slay dragons with a single blow!
As the apprentices considered this possibility, they nodded with a shared sense of pride and admiration as they looked at Allen's figure on the training ground, still catching his breath.
At this moment, a new voice emerged from the apprentices. "Or could it be that Master Aristo isn't unable to break Allen's defense but is holding back to give him a chance…?"
Erni furrowed his brows and looked around, eager to catch the one stirring such doubts about Allen's reputation. But before he could locate them, the voice continued, "After all, look at Master Vesemir's expression; it's been off this whole time."
Everyone's gaze shifted to Vesemir's direction. Sure enough, Vesemir's face was solemn, his eyes locked on Allen without reacting to the apprentices' chatter. His expression seemed…almost disappointed?
The apprentices exchanged glances, casting subtle looks at Erni, Claral, and the other Witcher soldiers, but they remained silent. Maybe that apprentice had a point. Otherwise, why would Vesemir's face look like that?
They didn't know the reason for the grandmaster's gloomy expression. It wasn't because Allen's performance had fallen short of expectations, nor was it due to any concern over those five precious vials. Vesemir just couldn't understand why Allen wasn't following a straightforward strategy for victory but instead allowed himself to struggle in this awkward position.
Was Allen growing conceited from his past triumphs and honors? If so, it pained Vesemir far more than losing five costly wine bottles. It wasn't like Allen to act this way, though!
The grandmaster narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Allen's figure on the training ground.
"Allen, you're doing very well!" Aristo suddenly broke the silence, interrupting the apprentices' wandering thoughts.
Staring at Allen a short distance away, on guard and focused, Aristo felt a wave of admiration—and envy for Vesemir's incredible fortune.
Despite being pressured and almost without a chance to counterattack, Allen's expression and breath remained as steady as a mountain… Even as whispers of doubt about his strength and authority drifted from the sidelines, he continued to focus, not letting his emotions disrupt his composure.
This kind of calm wasn't easy to achieve—especially at Allen's age, when reputation mattered above all else.
Aristo doubted he could maintain this level of composure, even in his thirties, forties, fifties—or even now. So, he felt nothing but admiration for Allen, a feeling that surged through him, making his blood race and his heart pound like thunder.
As such, Aristo decided to give it his all, even if it meant the next strike would decide the match.
Whether Allen's standing within the Witcher army suffered didn't concern him; with Aristo's support, any lost standing would quickly be regained and even further strengthened.
"I'm going to get serious!" he called out.
Taking a deep breath, Aristo adjusted his muscles and bones into their optimal positions, eyeing Allen and waiting for him to fully steady himself.
"Looks like it's true!" the apprentices around the training ground whispered excitedly. "Master Aristo was holding back with Allen…"
Erni, Claral, and the others didn't know what to say, so they simply clenched their fists and focused intently on the figure they admired.
Vesemir's expression remained impassive, but his grip on the training ground railing was so tight that veins bulged from his hands. Yet no one expected what happened next.
When Allen heard Aristo's warning and paused for a moment, he didn't tighten his focus as they anticipated but…smiled.
"In that case, I'll get serious too."
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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306. The Sapphire's Sinister Red Glow.
307. The Golden-Furred Beast.
308. Surviving Together.
309. "I'm Your Elder, Can You Trust Me a Bit More?"
310. Lone Wolf's Death, Birth of the Pack.