Witcher's Atelier

months ago. winter. Kaer Morhen Courtyard──

Eskar held the sword in his hand and turned smoothly. He could handle the rotating collision of three windmills with ease, and he could also speak freely. "We learn swordsmanship in order to find opportunities to reverse the situation in a one-on-three unfavorable situation. In battle, Kill the opponent."

Victor, who was eye-opening, then asked: "What about a pair of five, and the other party also has a crossbow?"

"To save my life and wait for an opportunity to escape."

"What about a pair of ten?"

"There is no hope, just wait to die."

Then the witcher emerged from the high-speed pinch of the three-seater windmill, took off the blindfold covering his eyes, looked at Victor, his disfigured face was gentle and calm, "You have to remember, the witcher is not a knight. One-to-many is great, but given the choice, I will always prefer many-to-one.

Perhaps when fully armed, combined with bombs and seals, a witcher can cause astonishing damage. But so what? Not only is that against our rules, but more importantly no one will pay us for it.

Under certain circumstances, we can compare one to ten or even twenty, but instead of discussing how to survive in that situation, it is better to consider how to avoid getting ourselves into that situation. Especially when facing regular troops in formation, running as far as possible is the voice of reason.

Swordsmanship is important, but choosing the right opponent will keep you alive for a long time. "

When Eskar said this, the scar on his face was twisted and ugly, but in retrospect, it was also very warm.

…

Angouleme was facing off against a female elf. Victor couldn't see the other person's face from behind, but his slim figure and two one-handed swords were enough to reveal a lot. Being able to face off meant that even if he couldn't win, he wouldn't. Too much Angouleme.

Thanks to Eskar's general swordsmanship course, he knew what was easiest to do at this time. He pulled out the steel sword with a swish, deliberately letting the sword stick against the sheath wall in the process, making a loud sword sound.

Seizing the moment when the female elf was surprised and distracted, Angouleme was as fast as a tiger, and rushed forward with swords in both hands. After knocking off her left sword with one blow, he made a fist with his left hand and punched her right arm to restrict her defense. Kiss the side of the other person's head mercilessly and hard.

The girl's strike was so heavy that Victor felt pain when hearing the blunt impact of the hammer and chopping board. The hilt of the sword made the female elf turn around and fall to the ground, and then she did not move.

Victor quickly waved his hand to stop Angouleme, who was about to pierce and hit him, first kicked the two one-handed swords away from the ground, and then took out some powder and lightly sprinkled it on the back of the female elf's unclothed hands.

After pausing for a moment to confirm that the other party had no reaction, he confidently knelt down and turned the other party over.

…

The female elf's jet-black hair was spread loosely on her shoulders, with a thin braid tied on each temple. Thin lips, carved eyebrows, high forehead, and blood clots bulging high where the side of the skull was hit hard.

She was wearing a dark green top with a simple handmade leather armor, and her lower body was wearing sheepskin tight trousers and riding boots.

There were two accessories on his body. One was a necklace with a thin leather cord wrapped around his neck several times. The beads looked like they were carved golden wood. The other made Victor frown, a necklace tied around his waist. Squirrel tail.

This means that the female elf is a "Squirrel Party".

The so-called Scoia'tael is a protest group of non-human races created by humans bullying and discriminating against non-human races. After a bloody suppression by humans, they quickly evolved into an armed resistance group and then developed into a jungle guerrilla group.

The young man vaguely remembered that while he was drinking in Vergen's Tavern, the leader of the Scoia'tael in the floating port area should be... Iorveth! ?

Damn it, thinking of this name and the deeds he had done, Victor had the urge to turn around and run away, but he still had one more thing to test.

He pulled out his steel sword and tentatively touched the female elf's neck. Sure enough, he heard those voices again.

"Kill her!"

"Let's do it. She is a Scoia'tael and she must have a lot of human blood on her hands. Killing her is saving people."

"Kill her, slit her throat."

"As long as you push it forward gently, she won't feel any pain."

The familiar formula is still the same kind of echoes, but this time the volume is very weak, it can even be said to be a whisper, far less loud and powerful than the last time. And as soon as the sword is withdrawn, the sound stops abruptly.

After carefully studying the differences and causes of the two phenomena, the young man fell into deep thought.

Angoulin, who had been standing guard, noticed Victor gesticulating and then sheathing his sword. He pondered for a while and silently stepped forward.

She patted the young man on the shoulder and said in a gentle tone, "It's okay. You don't have to force yourself. If you can't do it, just let me do it!"

Victor, whose thoughts were interrupted, shook his head, blocked Angouleme's wrist to prevent her from trying to stab, and pressed his hand to signal her to sheath the sword.

Angoulin continued to persuade: "This is not shameful. I can't do it because the leader is too kind. It doesn't matter. I am willing to kill for you."

Victor patted his forehead speechlessly, "Forget Lambert's nonsense, I have no problem, I can do it, just wait until I think about some things clearly."

Out of some subconscious reaction, whether it was the day when he first acted as a hero or when he recovered from illness, he had countless opportunities to ask, but he would rather be misunderstood as weak than mention the things in his mind to Lambert. There was an inexplicable cry of killing.

His intuition told him that this was a secret that could not be told.

Originally, he wanted to continue persuading her, but after being glared back at by the leader, Angouleme could only watch obediently as Victor took out two tubes of potion from the herbal bag, lifted the elf's head and poured them into the potion in order.

Then he tore off the half of the scarf wrapped around the elf's waist, thought for a moment, and wrote a paragraph of words that she couldn't understand on it with blood, and then threw him and the words into the bushes to hide.

After doing these actions, "Let's go! Let's go to the floating port, hurry up!" Victor's voice was unusually serious.

Angouleme followed Victor's footsteps, "That guy is a squirrel party, won't she say anything to her accomplices when she wakes up?"

"So she drank two bottles of potion." Victor kept a steady pace and walked forward quickly. "And we have to seize the time and run as far as we can."

"You seem very nervous, is the problem serious?"

"If you listen more carefully instead of giggling when drinking, you will know that the leader of the Scoia'tael in this area is that son of a bitch Iorveth!"

Angoulême shut her mouth and quickened her pace. Even as carefree as she was, she had to admit that the name Iorveth was well-known.

This elf of the Ain. Sheed tribe, the legendary former commander of the Vrihede Brigade, was known for his hatred of humans. After becoming a member of the Scoia'tael commando, he continued to be directly responsible for the burning and killing of many human villages and civilians.

These evil Scoia'tael collect everything they can, including human heads.

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