Chapter 27: The Water hag
The physical differences between drowners and water hags were significant enough to suggest reproductive isolation. However, records speculated that water hags were the wives of multiple drowners.
It was rumored that water hags disguised themselves as elderly women to lure travelers into their lairs, but in Lan's view, only those drunken enough to lose control of their limbs would fall for such a trick. After all, even a blind person could smell the foul stench emanating from a water hag.
Lan's eyes narrowed in determination. There was no longer any possibility for a quiet retreat with Bernie now.
Drowners, having lived in water for years, had degraded vision akin to cataracts. However, the water hag, possessing combat abilities far superior to the drowners, was not burdened by such a flaw. Its range of perception and strength surpassed that of the drowners.
After a quick assessment when Lan peeked around, Mentos's calculations were sufficient to analyze the situation in just a glance. Lan crouched down and moved back to Bernie's side. Facing the hopeful eyes of the old hunter, Lan calmly explained the situation.
"Quietly retreating is out of the question. There are only seven drowners nearby, but there's a water hag among them. If we take a wrong step and it screams, who knows how many more drowners will come rushing at us like mad dogs?"
"We definitely need to fight, but I'll need your help this time. Only by working together do we stand a chance of getting out of this forest alive."
Though these words should have been despairing, Lan's calm tone made Bernie feel surprisingly steady.
Bernie swallowed hard, tightening the bindings on his long leather gloves as he took his bow from his back. Lan spoke at a measured pace, clearly and methodically.
"I'll handle the charge and close combat. When you hear the drowners' cries, that's your cue to reveal yourself. When you do, you'll see a prominent target: a humanoid creature larger than the drowners, covered in wrinkles and warts—that's the water hag. You need to shoot at it, but don't rush. Wait until it bends down to pick something up from the ground before you shoot to interrupt it. Aim for the torso. It reacts quickly, and its skin is tough; your arrows aren't silver, so don't think you can hurt it. Just help me keep it in check."
The urgency in Lan's speech kept Bernie's mind racing, even making him forget his fear. The detailed information gave him confidence and courage; at least he felt his grip on the bow steadier now.
"Got it."
Lan nodded, moving lightly to the side, slightly distancing himself from Bernie. He then raised his left hand in the air. A golden magical light flickered across his body's surface. Casting Quen before battle was a hallmark of the Bear School.
Exhaling the last remnants of stale air from his lungs, he took a deep breath again. As fresh oxygen filled his lungs, his muscles and bones joined together, and his foot struck the ground. He transferred his weight suddenly to his upper body using the techniques of [Bear School Swordsmanship].
In an instant, his weight combines with that of his armor and sword, exceeding one hundred kilograms, reached maximum speed. The force of this reaction was immense and abrupt. So much so that the straps securing his armor and leather to his boots cried out in protest. The rushing motion sent a gust of wind that disturbed branches two meters away.
"Urgh?" One drowner turned its head in confusion, but as it turned halfway, a cold glint of silver pierced its throat.
Bernie watched closely from a distance; even in his charge, the sword raised by Lan remained steady, almost as if it was "gliding" through the air. The sound of a body crashing to the ground drowned out the blade entering flesh. But blood sprayed forth.
Having charged into the drowners' attack range, Lan's gaze remained calm and resolute.
The drowners, having witnessed their first casualty, immediately shifted into attack positions. Two of them, positioned closely together, let out shrill cries and lunged at Lan. As they leaped into the air, their shadows loomed over him.
At that moment, the young witcher had the silver sword planted firmly in the throat of the dying drowner, but its lifeless body now became a burden to his movements. Yet he did not slow his charge. Facing the two drowners lunging directly at him, he didn't even consider slowing down.
He darted past the drowner he had just stabbed, the silver sword still pressed against the back of its neck. The hilt of the sword lagged behind Lan's body as he dashed forward. Was he really going to rely solely on his body to absorb the blows from the monsters' claws?
Of course not. The positioning of his arms behind him was part of building momentum. With a powerful shout, the muscles and veins in his arms swelled with blood in an instant. The bulge of his muscles was so pronounced that it could not be concealed by the thick cotton armor. The leather and fabric creaked under the strain.
His center of gravity began to shift, and his swordsmanship transitioned from a "thrust" to a "slash." Lan swung it with all his might. The dying drowner was literally lifted half a foot off the ground by the sheer force of the silver sword. The cervical vertebra acted as a sheath for his sword, providing friction that kept the sword from slipping out and accelerated the buildup of momentum.
The drowner, having been stabbed in the throat, now had its neck bent grotesquely. Then, at the moment when Lan's sword reached its peak speed, "thud!"
The "sheathed" cervical vertebra was cleaved through cleanly. The sharpened silver blade then sliced through the air, cutting through the remaining two drowners with shocking precision. The speed of the sword was so swift that the sounds of flesh being cut were drowned out. One drowner was cleaved from its shoulder down to its arm, while the other was split open across its white belly.
From seven, only four remained.
Lan's assault was so rapid and fierce that the blood of the three creatures sprayed forth almost simultaneously. The intense stench filled the woodland puddles in an instant. Even the drowners, known for their love of foul smells, momentarily recoiled at the scent of their own blood.
The foul blood didn't splatter onto Lan, as the thin layer of golden magical light provided a protective barrier. But in the next moment, Lan's cat-like eyes narrowed sharply.
"Bang!"
A loud thud echoed as the golden magical light rippled like waves across the water's surface, then shattered violently. A powerful force, which had not been completely countered, surged from his left shoulder. The intensity of the impact was such that even the residual force from Quen caused Lan's upper body to twist half a turn.
A voice that was different from that of the drowners, sounding like the mocking cackle of an old woman rang out.
The water hag was adept at throwing things; on the banks of the marsh, they typically hurled mud balls to obscure people's vision before using their terrifying claws to shred their prey. But in this forest, it could easily pick up stones that posed a far greater threat than mud balls.
The shift in Lan's center of gravity was disrupted by the external force, prompting him to abandon his standing posture altogether. With a graceful roll, he propelled himself two meters away, temporarily increasing the distance between himself and the enemies. But at that moment, the young witcher's thoughts were not on himself but rather on his companion.
"Bernie, why didn't he shoot at it?!"
Once he regained his footing, Lan kept his gaze firmly on the cackling water hag, commanding Mentos to observe his companion with his peripheral vision.
***
Guys, starting from Monday (when rankings reset), I am gonna implement a reward system. The more you help me, the more chapters I will release.
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That's it. As simple as that.
PS: I know that I should've done this sooner ( cause let's face it, you don't give power stones if you don't get something out of it), but unfortunately I forgot about it.
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