Chapter 53: The Nekker Chieftain
What in the blazes is that thing?
The thought flashed through his mind just as Arthur charged forward.
The Blade of Temeria sliced through the air, leaving a faint, dark blue streak, and ruthlessly slammed down onto the red arm.
He was curious what creature was about to crawl out, but the priority was to land a blow first!
Aagh!
Accompanied by a muffled shriek of pain, the exposed dirt mound exploded. A red blur recoiled instantly, retreating out of Arthur's attack range in the blink of an eye.
Dirt clods rained down for a few seconds before Arthur got a clear look at the monster.
Its shape was similar to a nekker, but its size was greater than a typical man, and its muscles looked like they had been pumped with half a pound of steroids.
It was currently wielding a club a gigantic beast's leg bone in its right hand, letting out an enraged howl at Arthur, seemingly protesting the human's cowardly sneak attack.
"Heh, my luck is pretty good. Come out to kill a nekker, and I run into a Nekker Chieftain!"
Arthur was not nervous; in fact, he was slightly excited. Coën had explained that nekkers organized themselves like primitive tribes. Once a tribe reached a certain size, larger, stronger, and smarter individuals would appear.
Those the size of a human were Nekker Warriors; those larger than a human were called Nekker Chieftains.
Slaying this thing would definitely provide a significant amount of progression!
Arthur bent his knees slightly, sinking his center of gravity, and held the greatsword out in front of him, the tip pointed toward the Chieftain's face.
He didn't use the more aggressive Top Guard or Rage Guard, opting instead for the balanced Iron Gate Guard to first assess the monster's capabilities.
Since advancing to the Ancient Nord bloodline, Arthur's physical attributes had noticeably improved; his speed and strength were now comparable to a standard Witcher.
Yet, his full-power strike hadn't managed to sever the creature's arm, only leaving a decent, though not fatal, wound…
Just how hard are this thing's bones?
The Nekker Chieftain roared incessantly, its bone club swinging down with a rush of wind, aiming to smash Arthur and his greatsword into pulp with a single blow.
But the bone club was undeniably heavy, and with only one arm fully operational, the wind-up for the strike was too long. It failed to even brush Arthur's cloak, and instead, earned the Chieftain a few new cuts.
"Hah… hah… you bastard, you really are thick-skinned!" Arthur's breathing grew heavy, but his eyes became even hotter with anticipation.
During the previous skirmish, he had inflicted at least five wounds on the Nekker Chieftain. Yet, barely three minutes later, the bleeding from those wounds had already begun to stop.
That regeneration! That must be worth at least five progression points!
Seemingly sensing the greed in Arthur's gaze, the Nekker Chieftain grew even angrier, charging forward like a battering ram.
"Hmph, rushing already?"
Arthur leaped sideways, intending to leave a new wound while dodging the attack, just as before.
But this time, the Chieftain's left arm, which had previously been dangling, suddenly shot up, sweeping like a pitchfork to grab Arthur around the waist.
The Chieftain peeled back its lips, revealing a mouth full of short, blade-like fangs. It had timed its move perfectly for the exact moment Arthur's feet left the ground, aiming to deny its prey any chance of reaction!
But in the next second, the human's lean body retreated like a kite, followed immediately by the coldness and heat in his palm.
The instant before the Nekker Chieftain's claws reached him, Arthur violently raised his greatsword. Using the Chieftain's momentum to propel himself backward, the longsword simultaneously sliced through three of the creature's fingers.
Aagh! The Nekker Chieftain roared, wildly shaking its left arm. The blood spraying from the severed fingers rained down in a foul shower several meters wide.
On the other side, Arthur drifted back like a falling leaf, landing three meters away, successfully avoiding the stench of the blood rain.
"Faking that your arm was useless just to kill me in one move? Your acting is terrible!" Arthur snapped his wrist, shaking the foul blood from the greatsword, and looked mockingly at the Nekker Chieftain.
When he first struck it, he had felt something was wrong the blade did not meet the fierce friction that came from slicing deep into bone when he withdrew it. At most, he had only damaged some muscle tissue, far from rendering the arm useless. Moreover, after seeing the Chieftain's astonishing recovery speed, he had already assumed the arm was functionally healed.
This was the combat intuition granted by the Nord bloodline!
"It's time to end this!"
This time, the one initiating the attack was Arthur. He didn't use any fancy sword techniques, simply gripping the Blade of Temeria with both hands and launching a flurry of strikes at the Chieftain.
With three fingers missing, the Chieftain's left hand couldn't properly grip a weapon anymore. The bone club was already heavy, and wielding it single-handedly was clumsy. After only a few exchanges, Arthur opened a deep gash in its abdomen, spilling its colorful insides onto the ground.
"Squeal-waa-waa-waa!"
The Nekker Chieftain's eyes became crystal clear with panic. While trying to shove its spilling organs back inside, it twisted its head and shrieked in every direction.
Sounds like it's calling for help?
Arthur changed his intended strike, which was aimed at the Chieftain's heart. Instead, he quickly slashed twice at its hamstrings, crippling it, and asked playfully:
"How many nekkers can you call?"
"Squeal-waa-waa-waa!" The Chieftain yelled with a stretched neck, sounding as if it were saying, "I can summon fifty!"
Arthur held up one hand and said: "If you can summon five, I'll let you live."
Seemingly understanding Arthur's words, the Chieftain ruthlessly shoved the one remaining finger on its left hand into its mouth and bit it off with a loud crunch.
It placed the severed digit on the ground and chanted some nonsensical gibberish. The surface of the finger suddenly developed sickening black spots that rapidly spread across the entire stump. Simultaneously, a powerful magical wave emanated outwards from the finger, feeling like someone had smacked a stick just inches from Arthur's face.
Is this the nekkers' unique method of communication?
Arthur cocked his ear, as he distinctly heard the sounds of approaching footsteps.
A moment later, over a dozen nekkers simultaneously poked their heads out from the treetops, from underground, and from behind tree trunks. They took one look at the figure standing over the mound, and immediately turned and scurried back into the woods.
"Hmm?" Arthur turned his sword toward the Nekker Chieftain. How could they run away?
Two lines of murky tears traced paths down the Nekker Chieftain's face. Reluctantly, it bit off its right pinky finger and began chanting the strange spell again.
This time, the severed finger dissolved into a red mist that shot out faster than an arrow, chasing the scattering nekkers.
What happened next was utterly bizarre: the nekkers that inhaled the red mist not only stopped fleeing, but their skin rapidly changed from pale white to dark red, and their bodies inflated like balloons.
Watching these monstrous, savage nekkers eyes blazing with hostility pounce toward him, Arthur grinned:
"Well, aren't these the Nekker Warriors Coën told me about!"
He turned his head to the side, looking at the now-slumped and demoralized Nekker Chieftain. He suddenly thought the creature looked oddly cute and ugly at the same time:
"Didn't realize you were actually useful!"
.........
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