"You have passed the Green Grass Trial.
You gain: Constitution +1, Strength +1.
You have acquired new talents: [Immunity to All Diseases], [Low-Light Vision].
You have undergone an external change: Vertical Pupils.
You have obtained a new profession: Witcher."
"You have been appointed to the background profession: Witcher.
You have gained the following basic skills—
Strength: Climb, Jump, Swim
Dexterity: Roll, Riding, Balance
Constitution: Concentration
Intelligence: Knowledge (Monsters, Arcane, Geography, History), Spell Identification, Craftsmanship
Perception: Wilderness Survival, Insight, Listen
Charisma: Intimidation."
"You have unlocked the Witcher's unique professional skill: Signs.
(Signs are a simple yet effective spellcasting ability exclusive to Witchers.
They are developed purely for combat purposes,
and their effects are determined by the Witcher's Charisma attribute.)"
"You have learned the Sign: Aard.
—Using the Aard Sign releases a psychic shockwave capable of knocking down or repelling enemies in battle."
Aard Sign: Creates a fan-shaped shockwave within a 25-foot range.
Enemies caught within it will be knocked down and suffer a brief stun.
The specific effect depends on the difference between the sum of the enemy's Strength and Constitution
and the sum of your Charisma plus your highest attribute other than Charisma."
…
"I knew you could do it… stranger."
The Witcher's voice was difficult to read—somewhere between joy and sorrow.
"May the Source light your path, newborn hunter. Prepare yourself…
Slay them all! Or fight until your last breath…"
Aldric had no time to marvel at the stream of bonuses filling his vision—
the Witcher's protective Sign barrier had already dissipated,
and the greenskins war cries flared up once again.
A cold flash of steel tore through the air.
Far in the distance, an orcish beastman reacted purely on instinct,
loosing an arrow the instant the barrier vanished!
However, under the effects of his [Lightning Reflexes], time seemed to slow to a crawl—
Aldric had more than enough time to flick the arrow away with the White Wolf's Claw in his hand.
He twisted his sword in a graceful arc, using the newly enhanced strength from his profession bonus.
His blade deflected the first orc's twin-headed axe at an angle,
the friction shrieking in his ears as he guided the weapon's momentum—
splitting apart the wooden stake that had pinned the Witcher's hands moments earlier.
Before the orc could recover its balance, Aldric's sword flashed horizontally—
one clean stroke, a head soared skyward.
Purple blood spurted like a fountain.
Amid the howls of war, a warm current surged from his sword hand through his entire body.
The withered dryness of his limbs faded away;
it was like a weary traveler in a desert stumbling upon an oasis.
Strength flooded back into his body, and the pain of his wounds disappeared at that moment.
"In the name of humanity—purge the monsters! Death is the only path!"
Aldric roared, raising his longsword high as he charged headlong into the tide of greenskins alone.
His cry of defiance carried the force of his will.
Every greenskin that met his gaze trembled beneath that unyielding spirit!
Having briefly recovered his stamina, Aldric cleaved left and slashed right,
each strike finding its mark.
Three nearby orcs fell in rapid succession,
and with each fallen foe, a strange new energy gathered within him—growing stronger.
"WAAAGH!"
Steeltooth—the massive orc chieftain—shook his head and bellowed the signature war cry of his kind.
He swung his iron club wildly, trying to rally his panicking underlings.
The greenskins, finally snapping out of their daze, turned as one,
charging at the lone human who dared defy them.
But before they could reach him, Aldric spun his sword,
slashing down another greenskin to his left.
He ducked beneath Steeltooth's sweeping hammer,
snatching up the fallen orc's twin-bladed axe from the ground.
With a swift turn, he brought it down behind him—
a scream split the air as the axe cleaved through an orc's wrist,
sending its severed hand tumbling through the dirt.
Spotting a brief gap in their formation, Aldric drove the White Wolf's Claw into the ground,
then hurled the twin-bladed axe with all his might.
It spun end over end, burying itself deep into the abdomen of a greenskin at the rear.
The heavy blade bit nearly halfway through its belly—
its thick, dark entrails spilled from the wound,
and even the dullest of orcs recoiled in horror at the sight.
In mere moments, four orcs lay dead and two others were gravely wounded.
Their large frames and heavy weapons, once advantages, now hindered them in close quarters.
In the chaos of melee, they only tripped over one another—
and before Aldric, they crumbled like clay, utterly powerless.
Alone, with nothing but a single sword,
Aldric shattered their encirclement and made the towering brutes quake in fear.
Through a road paved with blood, mud, corpses, and severed limbs,
he strode forward with heavy steps—charging straight toward Steeltooth!
"Twang!"
The sound of a bowstring cut through the battlefield—another arrow screamed toward him.
The force of it was so great that it nearly stopped Aldric's advance.
Not far behind Steeltooth, an orcish beastman rider had appeared,
mounted atop a massive white wolf, bow already drawn—
its next arrow nocked and ready!
Rolling sideways, Aldric narrowly avoided the first shot.
He turned toward the archer, only five meters away—his chest tightened in frustration.
At such close range, the arrows' power and speed were twice as deadly as before.
The archer skillfully maneuvered his mount, keeping his distance.
No matter how swiftly Aldric darted and rolled,
the archer used Steeltooth's massive frame as a living shield,
constantly hiding behind him to maintain cover.
Meanwhile, the surrounding greenskins hesitated, reluctant to attack.
Their half-hearted movements only enraged Steeltooth further.
Part of it was because his authority as warlord was being undermined in front of his own troops—
and part of it came from the humiliation of being upstaged by a half-breed behind him.
But most of all, it was the hatred for the human before him—
a coward, a wretch, who dared to dance around instead of fighting head-on!
"I'll crush you into pulp!" Steeltooth's eyes blazed with fury.
Aldric could feel the blessing of the White Wolf's Claw fading away.
Fortunately, the nearby greenskins still feared him deeply;
each time he approached, they retreated in panic.
The real threat now was the deadly archer behind Steeltooth,
waiting for a chance to strike him down with a single well-placed arrow.
Though his pain was numbed,
the dizziness from blood loss kept hammering at his consciousness.
Only the sheer endurance granted by his sixteen points of Constitution
allowed him to keep moving under such grievous wounds.
He stole a glance at the Witcher's previous position.
At the start of the battle, Aldric had destroyed the support beams of the wooden rack.
If that old man hadn't been useless all these years,
he would surely seize this chance.
Indeed—
where the Witcher had once been pinned, there was now nothing but air.
Only two bloodstained nails remained, still embedded in the wood,
with bits of flesh clinging to them.
'This is it… the final gamble,' Aldric thought.
"In the name of humanity—die orc!"
He swung his sword upward, cleaving through an incoming arrow midair.
Then he launched his final charge.
With a resolve that accepted death as certainty,
he met Steeltooth head-on.
The White Wolf's Claw intercepted the club's downward blow,
the impact shaking his entire arm numb.
The shock traveled down his spine to his legs—
he dropped to one knee as cracks spidered through the ground beneath him.
Blood gushed from his mouth—
but he had caught the strike!
From his kneeling stance,
Steeltooth's enormous body served as the perfect shield.
Before the archer could reposition for another shot,
he had no line of fire.
"Aard!"
Aldric raised his head,
pressing his right hand—glowing faintly blue—against the orc's knee.
"Fall… monster!"
He had no idea how effective the Sign would be
against such a hulking creature with immense Strength and Constitution—
so he unleashed it point-blank, detonating all his willpower into the blast!
A violent shockwave burst forth from beneath Steeltooth's knees.
The orc lost balance instantly,
its massive frame collapsing backward.
Using the posture of a sprinter on the starting block,
Aldric kicked off from his kneeling stance,
racing up the falling giant's body as if it were a ramp.
Yes—his target wasn't Steeltooth.
It was the archer behind him!
His bent legs straightened with explosive force.
Muscles coiled and released like a bowstring, propelling him forward—
his body cutting through the air with the roar of the wind in his ears.
Strength rose from his feet, through his waist, driven by his spine,
all gathering into the sword in his hand like a single burst of power.
He soared over the collapsing greenskin,
eyes locked on the stunned beastman archer behind it.
The creature's size was roughly that of a man,
but before Aldric's midair charge, it looked pathetically small.
As he closed the distance, Aldric could see everything clearly—
the strange tattoos etched across the orc's face,
the panic widening in its eyes.
He savored that fear like fine wine.
"Your turn… monster!"
(End of Chapter)
TN: What do you guys think? Should I countinue?