The portal spat Adam and Geralt onto the rocky shores of Skellige. The sea roared against cliffs, longships creaked in the harbor, and drunken warriors bellowed songs that shook the mountains.
Adam stood tall, coat fluttering in the sea breeze, coffee steaming in hand. Environment… barbaric. Atmosphere… enthusiastic. Entertainment… potential.
Geralt grumbled, shaking seawater from his hair. "Of all the places to land… Skellige."
A booming laugh echoed as a group of warriors spotted them. "Witcher! And… whoever that is! You come to drink or to die?"
Adam raised his coffee cup in salute. "Option three: performance."
The warriors blinked, confused. Adam vaulted off a barrel, flipped midair, and landed in a split between two mead kegs. He took a dramatic sip, then kicked both kegs simultaneously. Mead sprayed like fountains, drenching the warriors.
The Skelligers stared for a heartbeat—then roared with laughter.
"By Freya! He fights with drink itself!"
Adam twirled dramatically. "Correct."
---
That night, inside a mead hall, warriors challenged Adam to contests.
"Arm wrestling!" one demanded.
Adam placed his hand lazily on the table. The warrior strained, muscles bulging. Adam yawned, sipping coffee with his free hand. Then, with a casual flick, he slammed the man's hand down so hard the table split in two.
The hall erupted with cheers.
"Drinking contest!" shouted another.
Adam accepted a massive horn of ale, downed it in one swallow, and immediately refilled it with coffee from… nowhere. The warriors blinked, confused. Adam sipped calmly.
"Impossible…" one muttered.
"Correct," Adam replied.
---
Suddenly, the alarm horns blared. A longship crashed into the harbor, sails torn. Warriors rushed to the shore as a swarm of drowners clawed up from the waves.
Geralt drew his sword. "Here we go again."
Adam vaulted out of the hall, landing dramatically on the beach. He backflipped over a drowner, heel-kicking it into another. Two toppled into the surf, colliding with their brethren.
Combat… slapstick. Monsters… plentiful. Audience… entertained.
He grabbed one drowner by the leg, swung it like a club, and used it to knock three more into a longship. The ship tipped dangerously, warriors shouting in delight.
Geralt sliced clean through another monster, giving Adam a side-eye. "You have to turn everything into a show, don't you?"
Adam kicked a barrel, sending it rolling into a pile of drowners, who slipped like clumsy drunks. He twirled dramatically. "Correct."
---
The largest drowner roared, lumbering onto the beach. Warriors gasped. Geralt tensed. Adam simply crouched, preparing.
With one absurd leap, he launched himself skyward, coffee somehow still steaming in his hand. He descended heel-first, delivering a dropkick of catastrophic proportions. The giant drowner cratered into the sand, twitched once, then lay still.
The mead hall exploded with cheers.
"He dropkicked a sea demon to death!"
"Not even the gods fight like that!"
Adam stood tall, coat swirling, steam rising from his cup. Performance… flawless. Audience… captivated.
---
The next day, Adam boarded a longship with Geralt. Warriors rowed with thunderous rhythm, chanting oaths of glory. Adam paced dramatically on deck, studying the oars.
Physics… opportunity. Ship… playground.
Without warning, Adam grabbed an oar from a rower, vaulted onto the mast, and used the oar like a pole to fling himself across the deck. He landed in a perfect split atop two barrels, raising his cup triumphantly. The entire crew erupted in cheers.
Geralt groaned. "He's turning Vikings into fans."
A sudden splash interrupted. A sea serpent rose from the depths, its maw wide enough to swallow the ship whole. Warriors screamed. Geralt readied his sword.
Adam crouched dramatically. Target… enormous. Performance… mandatory.
As the serpent lunged, Adam sprinted up the mast, vaulted off the top, and launched a flying punch straight into its jaw. The impact sent a shockwave across the sea, capsizing nearby fishing boats and flipping the serpent onto its back.
Silence fell across the crew. Then the serpent groaned, belly up, floating helplessly.
The Skelligers roared with laughter and triumph. "He punched a sea god unconscious!"
Adam twirled in midair, landing gracefully, steam rising from his cup. "Correct."
Geralt buried his face in his hand. "You're insane."
Adam sipped calmly. "Also correct."
---
That night, bonfires lit the cliffs of Skellige. Warriors sang drunken songs of Adam's feats—dropkicking sea demons, slapping drowners into barrels, and punching a serpent so hard it stopped moving.
Adam sat at the center, coat swirling, coffee steaming, nodding along to the chants. Chaos… widespread. Performance… legendary.
Geralt leaned against a rock, watching the spectacle. "You realize the whole island will be talking about you for centuries."
Adam smirked. "Yes."
Above the cliffs, the stars shimmered—and a faint ripple of light appeared. A new portal was forming.
Adam rose, stretching lazily, coat fluttering in the sea wind. The warriors cheered louder, thinking it part of his act.
Geralt asked quietly, "Leaving again?"
Adam nodded once. "Correct."
With a dramatic flourish, he stepped into the swirling light. The mead hall's cheers followed him as he vanished into the next stage of chaos.