I grabbed my swords from where they leaned against the wall, the familiar weight of steel and silver a comfort after the pleasurable chaos of the previous night. I strapped them across my back, the leather harness settling into its accustomed position between my shoulder blades.
I left Neary's body the way in the bed as she was, enjoying my own handywork she unconscious and thoroughly used, just like how she wanted. She'd wake up eventually, probably sore as hell and with a headache to match, but she'd be fine. Sorceresses were resilient, both physically and magically. Besides, she'd gotten exactly what she wanted.
I didn't bother leaving a note or waking her. What would I even say? "Thanks for the fuck"? That seemed crude even by my standards. Better to just slip out and let her wake up on her own terms. Plus she said she would introduce me to a good magic teacher, so I need to see if that part is true later on.
I decided to head out without telling Callum where I'd be. He was probably still asleep or already up and eating breakfast, knowing him. Since Calla was part of the same mage group as Neary, I figured they'd all be nearby anyway. If Callum needed me, he'd find me. We'd been training together long enough that we had a sense for each other's whereabouts. Or being able to track one-another easily.
As I stepped into the hallway, the morning light filtered through the narrow windows, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. The inn was starting to wake up, the sounds of movement and conversation drifting up from the common room below.
That's when I remembered, I'd never used those quest rewards from the Trial of Dreams. With everything that had happened, the void rift, the corrupted wolves, nearly dying, and then last night's... activities, I'd completely forgotten about them.
Since I'd just had a wonderful night, I figured I might as well keep this lucky streak going.
I pulled up my inventory with a thought, the familiar blue translucent screen materializing in my vision.
System Inventory:
Eirael (Moon Frost) Sword (Rare)
Hunter's Edge Knife (Rare)
Limitless Waterskin (Common)
Runic Sharpening Stone (Common) 1/3 Uses
(Common) Healing Potion (x6)
(Common) Mana Potion (x1)
(Common) Elixir (x2)
(Rare) Potion of Strength
(Rare) Potion of Arcane
(Rare) Skill Ticket (x1)
(Rare) Ability Ticket (x1)
2 (Rare) Equipment Chest
I focused on the Rare Skill Ticket and Rare Ability Ticket. Two glowing blue tickets materialized in my hand, shimmering with magical energy. One had text that read "Rare Skill Ticket" in elegant script, while the other said "Rare Ability Ticket."
The tickets felt warm to the touch, thrumming with potential. I could feel the magic contained within them, waiting to be released and integrated into my being.
I exhaled slowly, steadying my breathing. "Let's see what Lady Luck has in store for me today."
I ripped both tickets together in one smooth motion. The moment they tore, they dissolved into streams of golden light that spiraled around my hands before rushing into my chest. The sensation was intense but not painful, like drinking something hot that warmed you from the inside out.
The system pinged immediately.
System Notification: New Skill & Ability Received
Skill/Spell: Mana Missile Level 1 (Rare)
Description: An advanced variation of the foundational basic spell. While the common practitioner simply hurls formless lumps of raw mana, the Rare variant introduces the concept of Geometric Compression. By compressing magical energy into a structurally dense, aerodynamic needle, air resistance is negated, and armor penetration is drastically increased. Due to the high density of the mana structure, the caster can exert a single mental impulse to alter its trajectory after firing.
Effect: Piercing Magical Damage (Ignores 20% of the target's physical armor). Can be redirected mid-flight with mental command.
Ability: Poison Resistance Level 10 (Common) → Poison Resistance Level 3 (Rare)
Description: Your body has adapted beyond normal tolerances to toxins and poisons. Your enhanced Constitution now processes harmful substances with remarkable efficiency, breaking them down at the cellular level before they can cause significant damage. This extends to Witcher potions, allowing you to consume them with reduced side effects and improved beneficial adaptation.
Effect: High resistance to toxins, poisons, and Witcher potion strain. Improves tolerance and beneficial adaptation. Reduces poison damage by 60%. Witcher potion toxicity reduced by 40%.
Poison Threshold: 0/120
I stared at the notifications, a slow smile spreading across my face. Now this was a sweet upgrade.
The Mana Missile spell was exactly the kind of offensive magic I needed. Most of my combat abilities were either close-range or area-of-effect. Having a precise, armor-piercing ranged attack that I could redirect mid-flight? That opened up entirely new tactical possibilities. I could hit targets behind cover, curve shots around obstacles, even fake out enemies by appearing to miss and then redirecting at the last second.
And the Poison Resistance upgrade was even better. My poison threshold had jumped from 80 to 120, a fifty-percent increase. More importantly, the quality had gone from Common to Rare, which meant the resistance itself was significantly more potent. I still didn't like relying on Witcher potions, I mean who wanted to take poison pre-workout before fighting a monster?, but this would make them much more manageable.
Even if some potions had good bonus effects, I still needed to find a way to make non-poisonous versions eventually. But for now, this would do.
I focused on the blue translucent screen again, reading the Mana Missile description more carefully. The geometric compression aspect was fascinating from a magical theory standpoint. Instead of just throwing raw mana at a target and hoping it hit hard enough, this spell shaped the energy into an optimal form for penetration and damage.
I opened my left hand and concentrated, channeling mana into my palm. After a moment of focusing, feeling the energy flow through my channels and pool in my hand, a translucent gold-yellow ball of mana the size of a baseball formed above my palm, levitating gently.
The sphere pulsed with contained power, its surface rippling like liquid metal. I could feel the compressed energy within it, dense and potent. The color was interesting, I never knew my mana would manifest like that. Normally in comics mana is pale blue or white, but this spell had a distinct golden hue to it. Maybe it was because of my special nature as a transmigrator?
Now this was interesting. The control required was more precise than my other spells, but not overwhelmingly so. I could feel how I could shape it, compress it further, or release it with varying degrees of force.
I made a mental note to test this out later, somewhere away from civilians and breakable objects. The last thing I needed was to accidentally put a hole through someone's wall while experimenting. That's a bill I don't want to pay.
I dismissed the window and the spell with a thought, the golden sphere dissipating into motes of light that faded into the air.
As I continued walking down the hall toward the stairs, I noticed some of the ladies who saw me started to blush and look away, their eyes widening before they quickly averted their gazes. A few whispered to each other behind their hands, giggling nervously.
Right. The walls in this inn were probably not as thick as I'd thought. Or Neary had been louder than I'd realized. Probably both.
I kept my expression neutral, neither acknowledging nor ignoring their reactions. Just another day in the life of a Witcher, well its better then them look at me for being a exotic looking half-elf. Though I had to admit, this was new territory for me.
I made my way downstairs, the wooden steps creaking under my boots. The common room was busier now, filled with the morning crowd of travelers, merchants, and locals grabbing breakfast before starting their day. The smell of cooking meat, fresh bread, and ale filled the air, making my stomach rumble despite the late hour.
That's when I spotted them in the adjacent dining area. Callum was having a meal, and as expected, he was stuffing his face like normal. But next to him sat a woman I recognized from the previous evening, Calla, his twin sister.
She had the same red hair as Callum, though hers was longer and styled more carefully. She wore the practical but well-made clothing of a traveling mage, dark trousers, a fitted tunic, and a cloak with subtle magical wards woven into the fabric.
The moment I stepped into the walkway, both of them looked at me. Their heads turned in perfect synchronization, like they'd sensed my presence before I'd even fully entered the room.
Then Callum muttered something with his mouth full of food, his words completely unintelligible through the mass of bread and meat he was chewing.
I sighed, and so did Calla. "Don't talk with your mouth full!" we both said at the same time
Callum's eyes widened in surprise at the stereo scolding. He swallowed in one big gulp that was so large and forceful that even I grabbed my throat in sympathetic discomfort, wincing at the sight.
Then he grabbed a pint of his drink and washed the food down in several long gulps, finally gasping, "Ahh, that was good."
"Still the bottomless pit as always, brother," Calla said, shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. Then she looked at me, her green eyes assessing. "So you're the famous Cain. Callum has said so many good things about you over the night."
"Oh, were you two talking all night?" I asked, moving closer to their table.
She smiled, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes. "Yes, as opposed to some who were doing their job and receiving the night of her life from the sounds we were hearing." She paused, letting that sink in. "Which also made it harder to sleep, I might add."
I felt heat creep up the back of my neck. I knew she meant Neary, so I was right, everyone could hear us. The walls really were that thin.
"So I take it everyone..." I started, already knowing the answer.
"Yes, we all heard you," they said together, their voices overlapping perfectly.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Callum was grinning like an idiot, clearly finding this hilarious. Calla's expression was more neutral, but I could see the amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Well," Calla said, "I must thank you, Cain."
I raised an eyebrow. "For what? Sleeping with your friend?"
Calla's expression immediately soured. "First, don't insult me by saying we are friends. I would never be friends with that drunken harlot of a sorceress." Her voice carried genuine disdain. "Her and I are work colleagues. Nothing more."
I pulled out a chair and sat down, intrigued by the vehemence in her tone. "You're traveling in the same caravan protecting it, correct?"
"Yes, I am," Calla confirmed, her posture straightening slightly. "This merchant company does a lot of work for us, so occasionally we send our girls that are about to finish their studies, and they spend a few weeks, maybe a month and a half, on the road and overseas to learn how to protect, communicate, and watch the goings-on of the world from the eyes of a merchant."
That made sense from a practical standpoint. Future court sorceresses needed to understand economics, logistics, and how the common world functioned. Spending time with merchants would give them that perspective.
"Okay," I said, "and it seems like Neary doesn't like that job?"
Calla snorted, a very unladylike sound that made Callum chuckle. "Of course she doesn't. She's the type of woman that hates the wilderness and being on the open road for weeks on end." She paused, her expression darkening. "The only reason she's even here is because she was passed up for an advising position, and another sorceress was chosen. She's been like this ever since. Which is sad because she is quite a very good mage when she's not drowning herself in wine and self-pity."
"Oh, I couldn't tell," I said dryly.
Calla's lips twitched in amusement. "I bet, considering that the only talking you two were doing was probably the commands you were giving her and the moaning she was giving in return."
Callum nearly choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering. "Calla!"
"What?" she said innocently. "I'm just stating facts."
"So how was your first time, Cain?" Callum asked once he'd recovered, his grin returning full force.
"Brother, please, not in front of me," Calla said, holding up a hand. "You boys can talk about that any other time. By the way, speaking of that... person, do you know how long she will be indisposed?"
I pondered for a moment, thinking back to the state I'd left Neary in. "Probably until noon, maybe a bit after. She didn't sleep much."
Callum just snickered, shaking his head. Calla sat there with her arms crossed, a slightly annoyed expression on her face, and sighed heavily.
"Well, that's better than being drunk and in the way," she said. "And maybe now that she's got some cock in her, she can take the giant stick out of her ass."
"Calla!" Callum said, genuinely shocked this time. "What would Mother think after hearing that?"
"Mother would tell you to wipe your face of all the food on it," Calla shot back without missing a beat.
Callum immediately started wiping his face with his sleeve, looking sheepish.
Then Calla continued, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "She would also tell me to stop covering for her shortcomings because she can't get her head on straight."
"You're covering for her?" I asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Yes," Calla said, her frustration evident. "Neary is meant to teach the girls, but she has been indisposed or not very sober the past few times. And we want to maintain our trade agreement with the merchant group, so I was sent to supervise over her just in case." She shook her head. "So far, I would say I'm part of the reason we got here in one piece."
"What do you normally do?" I asked. "When you're not babysitting drunk sorceresses, I mean."
Calla's expression brightened slightly, genuine interest replacing the frustration. "I research spells and find new ways to use them, or make new ones altogether. I just so happen to be good at teaching others, so Rectoress Tissaia had asked me to watch over the girls until they can find a new teacher for them." She sighed again. "I swear that's the last time I do a favor for her."
Tissaia. She must mean Tissaia de Vries, the woman who should currently be in charge of the primary school of magic for young women, Aretuza. That was one of the most prestigious magical institutions on the Continent, known for producing some of the most powerful sorceresses in history.
If Calla was doing favors for Tissaia de Vries, that meant she was well-connected and respected in the magical community. That was good to know.
I then realized I'd never given Callum his half of the money from our meat sales. I reached for my side, pulling out the heavy coin purse I'd been carrying. "Here, Callum," I said, handing him the bag. "Here's your half for the profits. Make sure it lasts you until we return to the keep."
Callum's eyes widened as he took the bag, feeling its weight. The coins clinked together with a satisfying sound. "I always like the sound of a loud bag of coin," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, how would you two like to make some more coin?" said a familiar voice.
I turned my head to see the raven-haired woman from yesterday walking in. It was the Raven hair merchant who'd been negotiating with the other traders. She moved with the confident stride, and her dark hair pulled back in a practical braid, her clothing was expensive but travel-worn.
"You have a monster that needs killing?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Merchants didn't approach Witcher's for social calls.
"I have a few that need killing, from what I hear," Dreana said, stopping at our table. "There's a beast blocking the way ahead, a few miles up. If you Witcher's can kill it, I will pay you."
"First, describe the creature," Callum said, his expression shifting from jovial to professional in an instant.
Dreana nodded, clearly having expected this. "One of my scouts said it looked like it walked on two heavily muscled legs. Their wings are merged into their forelimbs. It possesses a long, serpentine neck and a terrifying, flat head. Their jaws are lined with deadly, sharp teeth. It has a tail that is long and prehensile. With large horns on its head and specialized tufts of hair or fur on its underside. With scales like a reptile and red."
As she spoke, my system pinged.
System Codex: Based on the description of the creature, you are dealing with a Royal Wyvern.
Classification: Draconid/Ornithosaur
Threat Level: High
Recommended Potions: Golden Oriole to counter their venomous poison, and consume Swallow to regenerate health.
Recommended Oils: Draconid Oil or Ornithosaur Oil to maximize your damage output. +15% added damage.
Behavioral Notes: Royal Wyverns are highly territorial and aggressive. They prefer elevated nesting sites and will attack anything that approaches their territory. Unlike common wyverns, Royal variants possess more potent venom and greater physical strength. They are intelligent enough to use tactics and will attempt to grab prey with their tail before delivering a killing bite.
I dismissed the window, my mind already working through the implications.
"Sounds like we're dealing with a Royal Wyvern," I said, looking at Callum.
Callum nodded, his expression serious. "Agreed. Good thing I already have the potions and oils brewed for handling it."
Of course he did. Callum was always prepared when it came to alchemy. It was one of his strengths.
"Sounds like you both just need to do what you're good at," she said, a hint of relief in her voice. "Take care of the beast, and I will pay."
"Not yet," Callum said, holding up a hand. "We need to discuss payment."
I smirked, crossing my arms. This was going to be good.
"What?" the raven haired Merchant said, her expression shifting to wariness.
Callum continued, his voice taking on the tone of someone who'd done this before. "You're hiring Witcher's for a job, so we need to negotiate proper payment."
I decided to help him out. "Royal Wyverns aren't your average monster," I said, my voice calm but firm. "They're apex predators, highly territorial, and extremely dangerous. A Royal Wyvern is larger and more aggressive than a common wyvern, with venom potent enough to kill a man in minutes. Their scales are thick enough to turn aside most blades, and their strength is sufficient to carry off a horse."
I paused, letting that sink in. "They're intelligent hunters. They'll use their environment to their advantage, attacking from above or using their tail to grab and immobilize prey before going for the kill. Their wings can generate winds strong enough to knock a man off his feet, and their bite force can crush armor."
Dreana's expression had grown more concerned with each detail.
"They nest in elevated positions," I continued, "which means we'll have to approach uphill, giving it the advantage of high ground. If it has eggs or young, it will be even more aggressive and unpredictable. And if we're unlucky enough to encounter it while it's feeding, it will defend its kill to the death."
I leaned forward slightly. "A Royal Wyvern is classified as a high-threat monster. Most guards wouldn't stand a chance against it. Even experienced soldiers would suffer heavy casualties trying to bring one down. That's why you need Witchers."
When I was done, Shelooked to Calla, who nodded in confirmation.
"Everything he said is accurate," Calla said. "Royal Wyverns are extremely dangerous. I've seen the aftermath of one attacking a caravan. It wasn't pretty."
She sighed, clearly doing mental calculations. "Okay, I understand the monster is dangerous. How about 200 orens?"
"400 orens," Callum countered immediately.
Her eyes widened. "400? I can just get my hired guards to take care of it with the help of the sorceresses."
That's when Calla spoke up, her voice cold and authoritative. "Listen here, Dreana. If we ran into that monster by chance, then you would be right, and we would have to help you. But because your scouts discovered it, and there are literal trained monster hunters here, I will tell you now, if you do not hire them, I will have my girls go home, or we will be taking an alternative path, which will make the journey longer." She paused, letting the threat hang in the air. "The choice is yours."
Dreana looked between us, clearly weighing her options. "You're really going to twist my arm here?"
I decided to close the deal. "Listen, 400 orens. Take it or leave it. If you try to lower it anymore, I will only raise it. Accept it now, and Callum and I will begin our hunt."
This was also a perfect time to see how hunting a monster would work for my acting method and potion digestion. A Royal Wyvern was definitely a significant enough threat to count as proper "hunting" for my Sequence 9: Hunter pathway.
Dreana was silent for a long moment, her jaw working as she ground her teeth. Finally, she sighed in defeat. "Fine. 400 orens it is, then. But I need that thing killed in the next three days."
I looked at Callum, and he smirked, nodding.
"Consider it done," I said.
The system pinged immediately.
System Notification: New Quest Received
Epic Rank Quest: Royal Road
Objective: Slay the Royal Wyvern blocking the merchant road.
Time Limit: 3 Days
Rewards: +1.5 to Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity Attributes. 1 Epic Equipment Chest.
Failure Penalty: Loss of reputation with merchant guilds. Potential casualties among caravan members.
Epic rank? I hadn't had a quest of that tier before. This would be an interesting first mission as an official Witcher, and Beyonder.
I dismissed the window and stood up. "Let's go, Callum."
He nodded, got up, and walked behind me, calling back to Calla, "Save us some grub!"
"Don't die, brother," Calla called back, though there was genuine concern in her voice beneath the casual tone.
We spent the next few hours using our Witcher senses and training to hunt and track the wyvern. The trail started at the road where Dreana's scouts had reported the sighting, and from there, we followed the signs.
The first thing we noticed was the claw marks on the trees. Deep gouges in the bark, four parallel lines that scored the wood at heights that suggested something massive had passed through. The marks were fresh, the exposed wood still pale and oozing sap.
"Territorial markings," Callum said, running his fingers along one of the gouges. "It's claiming this area."
I nodded, my enhanced senses picking up more details. The air carried a faint reptilian musk, acrid and sharp, mixed with the metallic tang of old blood. I could hear the forest around us, the normal sounds of birds and small animals were absent in this area. The local wildlife had learned to avoid this territory.
We moved deeper into the forest, following the trail. Every few hundred yards, we found more signs. Broken branches at heights that suggested something with a massive wingspan had passed through. Scales caught on thorns and bark, each one the size of my palm and colored a deep crimson.
"It's definitely a Royal," I said, examining one of the scales. "Common wyverns don't get this large."
After about an hour of tracking, we found the first kill site.
It was a clearing, and the ground was torn up, covered in dried blood and scattered remains. What was left of a group of horses and their riders lay strewn across the area. The bodies had been partially consumed, flesh torn away in massive chunks. The bones that remained showed deep scoring from powerful jaws.
"Gods," Callum muttered, his face grim.
I knelt down, examining the scene with my Witcher senses fully engaged. The attack had happened maybe two days ago, based on the state of decomposition and the smell. The wyvern had struck from above, probably diving down on the group while they were traveling. The horses had panicked, scattering, but the wyvern had been methodical. It had killed them all before feeding.
"Look at this," I said, pointing to the pattern of the remains. "It's not leaving anything behind. It's consuming everything it can, meat, organs, even cracking the bones for marrow."
Callum crouched beside me, studying the scene. "That's unusual behavior. Wyverns are messy eaters. They usually leave plenty of scraps." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Unless..."
"Unless it's preparing to lay eggs or feed young," I finished, the same thought occurring to me.
Callum nodded slowly. "If it has a nest with eggs or hatchlings, it would need a massive amount of food. That would explain why it's being so thorough and why it's hunting so aggressively."
That complicated things. A Royal Wyvern protecting its nest would be even more dangerous than normal. It would fight with the desperation of a parent defending its offspring, which meant it would be more aggressive, more unpredictable, and far less likely to retreat even when injured.
"Let's keep searching for its nest," I said, standing up. "We need to know what we're dealing with."
We continued tracking, following the trail of scales, claw marks, and the occasional blood spatter. The terrain began to slope upward, the forest thinning as we climbed. The wyvern was leading us toward higher ground, which made sense. Wyverns preferred elevated nesting sites where they could see approaching threats and launch attacks from above.
Another hour passed. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, the morning giving way to midday. The air grew cooler as we gained elevation, and the trees became more sparse, replaced by rocky outcroppings and scrub brush.
Then I caught it, a stronger scent on the wind. Reptilian musk, much more concentrated than before, mixed with the smell of rotting meat and something else. Something that smelled like sulfur and decay.
"I've got the trail," I said, gesturing for Callum to follow.
We moved more carefully now, staying low and using the terrain for cover. The last thing we wanted was to stumble into the wyvern's territory without being prepared.
The trail led us up a steep hillside, the ground becoming more rocky and treacherous. We had to use our hands as much as our feet, climbing over boulders and navigating narrow paths. My enhanced Strength and Dexterity made it manageable, but it was still exhausting work.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of climbing, we crested a ridge and saw it. Just past the tree line, on a large hill that overlooked the surrounding forest, was the wyvern.
It was massive. Easily twenty feet long from snout to tail, with a wingspan that had to be at least thirty feet. Its scales were a deep crimson, almost blood-red, and they gleamed in the sunlight like polished metal. The serpentine neck was thick with muscle, and the flat, triangular head was adorned with two large horns that curved backward.
The wyvern was perched on a rocky outcropping, its wings folded against its body. Its tail, long and prehensile, was coiled around its legs. Even from this distance, I could see the intelligence in its eyes as it surveyed its territory.
"Gods above," Callum breathed beside me. "That thing is huge."
I had to agree. I'd seen wyverns in my previous life, in games and movies, but seeing one in person was entirely different. This was a living, breathing apex predator, and it was terrifying.
"You want to go at it now?" Callum asked, his hand already moving toward his sword.
I shook my head. "No. Let's lay a trap. That way, if it does have any eggs, we won't be making it even madder by being at its nest."
Callum nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. "Good idea. If we can lure it away from its territory, it might be less aggressive. Or at least we won't have to worry about it having the high ground advantage."
We carefully made our way back down the hill, putting distance between us and the wyvern. Once we were far enough away that we could talk without risk of being heard, we started planning.
"We need to make a lure," I said. "Something that will draw it away from its nest and into terrain that favors us."
Callum nodded, already pulling ingredients from his pack. "Vesemir taught us how to make wyvern lures. We'll need something with a strong scent, blood, preferably from a large animal. Mix it with certain herbs that wyverns find attractive, and we can create a scent trail it won't be able to resist."
We worked together, combining the ingredients. Fresh blood from our provisions, mixed with crushed herbs, dragonroot, wolfsbane, and a few others I trusted Callum knew what he was doing with. The mixture smelled absolutely foul, like rotting meat mixed with bitter plants, but that was the point.
"This should do it," Callum said, sealing the mixture in a leather pouch. "We spread this along a trail leading away from its nest, and it should follow. Wyverns have an incredible sense of smell, and this mixture mimics the scent of wounded prey."
"Where do we lead it?" I asked.
Callum thought for a moment, then pointed to a clearing we'd passed on our way up. "There. It's open enough that it can land and maneuver, but there are enough trees around the edges that we can use them for cover. The ground is relatively flat, which means we won't be fighting uphill."
I nodded. "Good choice. We'll have room to dodge its attacks, and if we need to retreat, we have options."
We spent the next hour preparing. We spread the lure mixture along a trail leading from the wyvern's territory down to the clearing. We checked our equipment, swords sharpened, armor secured, potions ready. Callum had brought Golden Oriole and Swallow, just as the system had recommended, along with Draconid Oil for our blades.
I applied the oil to my silver sword, watching as the silvery blade took on a faint greenish sheen. The oil would increase the damage I dealt to the wyvern significantly, and every advantage counted when fighting something that size.
"Ready?" Callum asked, his own blade similarly prepared.
I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar pre-battle calm settle over me. My heart rate slowed, my senses sharpened, and my mind cleared of everything except the task ahead.
This was what I was made for. This was what Witcher's did.
I looked at Callum and nodded. "Ready."
We moved into position, taking up spots on opposite sides of the clearing. The plan was simple, once the wyvern arrived, we'd attack from two directions, dividing its attention and preventing it from focusing on either of us for too long. We'd wear it down, exploit openings, and finish it when it was weakened.
Simple in theory. Execution would be another matter entirely.
I crouched behind a large boulder, my hand resting on my silver swords hilt. The sun was past its zenith now, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the clearing. The forest was quiet, the normal sounds of wildlife still absent.
Then I heard it, a distant screech, high-pitched and angry. The wyvern had found our lure.
I felt my pulse quicken, adrenaline beginning to flow through my veins. My enhanced senses picked up the sound of massive wings beating the air, growing closer with each passing second.
My lips curling into a slight smile, Let the hunt begin.