Hearing Vesemir's words, Eilin froze for a moment.
Instinctively, he halted and glanced at the sword in his hand.
Though it was a training sword meant for apprentices, devoid of any decorative engravings on the hilt or guard, the blade was polished to a brilliant shine, free of nicks and scratches.
A fine sword, indeed, but not a silver one.
A fleeting thought crossed Eilin's mind.
In the game, he recalled using a silver sword when confronting water wraiths, but it was always done automatically.
So, was it really impossible to slay a water wraith with a steel blade?
"Our apprentice thinks he's a warrior, daring to challenge a water wraith right after the herbal trial with nothing but steel," Vesemir scoffed with a sardonic edge.
"Mark my words, Apprentice Eilin: if you lose, you'll be polishing every sword in Kaer Morhen until they shine like stars!"
Before he fully processed the severity of the situation, Eilin seized upon the key words from Vesemir's challenge.
"What if I win?" he blurted out, a boldness surging through him.
Vesemir blinked, taken aback by the audacity of his apprentice. "What if you win?" he murmured incredulously.
Never had he expected this novice to not only zone out during his lesson but also to confront him, a seasoned Witcher master, with such bravado.
In that moment, Vesemir questioned whether the herbal concoction had muddled Eilin's brain rather than sharpening his wit.
"Yes! What if he wins?" Letho interjected gleefully from the sidelines, his smile wicked as a wolf's.
"Ha! Yes, Vesemir, what if our apprentice actually wins?"
The surrounding Witchers joined in, excitement crackling like electricity in the air.
Caught in an inescapable web of mockery, Vesemir felt the heat rising to his face. With a swift motion, he drew his steel sword, pointing it at Eilin with fervor.
"If you win, this sword will be yours!"
The moment the words left his lips, the training ground ignited with fervor, the atmosphere thick with anticipation.
Letho widened his eyes, almost incredulously, "Are you insane?
"This is your Elsa, a Dwarven masterpiece worth 17,325 orens!"
"It's the very sword you borrowed 3,000 orens for and have yet to pay back!"
Vesemir's complexion darkened as he held the steel sword aloft, its brilliant blade shimmering in the light, reflecting the care bestowed upon it, the intricate hilt boasting elegant filigree, while the silver edge gleamed as if hungry for blood.
Clearly, Vesemir had drawn the wrong sword.
The steel blade, worth barely over three hundred orens, remained obediently sheathed behind him.
The apprentices might not grasp the significance of 17,325 orens; most had never stepped beyond the walls of Kaer Morhen.
But the experienced Witchers understood immediately.
The moment they heard that staggering number, the crowd erupted with enthusiasm.
"17,325 orens? It took me all year to scrape together 500 orens!"
"Hardly surprising, given that I've just lost 234 orens this year due to injuries and gear repairs…"
"Truly, he's the youngest Witcher master in nearly a century…"
Vesemir felt his heart bleed.
If only there had been a handful of apprentices, he could have brushed it off as a mistake.
But now,
he felt like he was being lifted from the heights of Kaer Morhen's castle up into the clouds hovering eternally over the Blue Mountains.
The pristine white clouds seemed to mock him, inscribed with: "The Youngest Witcher Master in a Century."
There was no escape.
"He'd better win," Vesemir muttered defiantly, "Just off the herbal trial, with no signs learned, and he dares to face a water wraith with a steel sword."
"If he manages to win, what's the harm in giving him the sword?"
The surrounding Witchers dismissed Vesemir's wager.
Having dispatched countless water wraiths in their careers, they understood all too well the difficulty of battling with a mere steel sword.
An apprentice had no chance of winning!
As the apprentices exchanged glances, Eilin couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety gnawing at him, the echoes of his defiant retort lingering.
He had merely reacted out of habit.
But with the stakes now glaringly high,
the grim determination on Vesemir's face suggested that no explanations would be entertained until Eilin faced defeat.
From Vesemir's scowl to the apprentices' muted surprise and the Witchers' skeptical murmurs, everyone was convinced Eilin would fall.
Yet,
Eilin didn't share their pessimism.
With his focus sharpening, he felt an uncanny energy enveloping the water wraith, a force drawing him into its sinister aura.
He could feel it coiling around him, drawing him closer.
The water wraith lunged, its webbed claws slicing through the air, aimed straight for Eilin's face.
The stench of putrid decay invaded his senses, washing over him like a tide of nausea.
Fixing his gaze on the oncoming creature, Eilin shifted back on his right foot, evading the monster's strike, and in a fluid motion, he spun around with the memory of combat guiding him, slashing at the wraith's exposed back.
The sound of steel meeting flesh rang through the air, but the steel sword only scraped against the glossy, resistant surface of the water wraith, leaving behind only a faint scratch.
"That felt strange," Eilin thought.
The sword hadn't truly struck the beast; it felt as if he had encountered something invisible yet tangible, something viscous and gelatinous.
"It's chaotic magic."
As if unraveling Eilin's thoughts, Vesemir's voice came forth from behind him, calm yet urgent.
"Chaotic magic protects all beings favored by it; only silver, the symbol of order, can bypass such defenses."
Then in a softer tone, Vesemir continued, "Recognizing your skill with the blade, we'll allow you to switch to a silver sword."
"What about the wager?" Letho piped up again.
"Don't be ridiculous, there's no wager anymore."
Vesemir rolled his eyes, shooting a glare at Letho.
"I want to keep trying," Eilin declared firmly.
Vesemir didn't respond.
The murmurs of the onlooking Witchers faded to a hush, the tension coiling in the air as they awaited his decision.
After a pause, some began to depart, disappointment hanging on their shoulders.
But Eilin didn't notice.
His eyes locked onto the water wraith as it began to rise once more.
Yet, he could imagine the thoughts swirling in the minds of the onlookers: greed, underestimation...
Logically, he should have given up.
Without breaking its defenses, and relying solely on brute strength, the question lingered—would the beast tire first, or would he succumb?
But Eilin's circumstances were anything but typical.
On the surface, that last strike had dealt minimal damage, yet the sheer effort almost threw him off balance.
However, beneath it all, the true struggle was only beginning.
Eilin could feel the weight of the moment bearing down upon him.
"Come on! Eilin!"
A voice broke through his concentration, reverberating in the tense atmosphere.
It was Shus, the drowsy apprentice who had been hiding behind him, now wide awake, a look of unyielding support gracing his face.
Eilin merely nodded, a silent acknowledgment amidst the storm of conflict.
Because the water wraith lunged at him once more, teeth bared.
Instead of retreating, Eilin surged forward, delivering a quick slash again, but the steel still failed to breach its defenses.
Yet,
"Ding!"
In that moment, time seemed to freeze.
Everything around him morphed into a vivid tableau.
Within the stillness, the water wraith's eyes were marred with crimson veins, its gaping maw dripped with yellow, sticky saliva.
Then, a red line emerged—sharp and unmistakable, pulsating in Eilin's mind.
A primal instinct propelled him to slice along that path.
Thus,
the sword danced across the fabric of reality, a swift stroke along that forbidden line.
The wraith's neck aligned perfectly with the red thread, as if aware that the canvas was incomplete, it willingly accepted its fate.
"Splurt!"
The tableau shifted, an eruption of dark, foul blood spraying forth from the wraith where its head had once been.
"Thud!"
Eilin's exhausted body crashed onto the headless husk.
In that instant, a mechanical voice chimed in his ears.
"Ding!"
[Monster 'Water Wraith' Defeated!]
[Reward Settlement: …]
"Eilin!" Shus shouted, urgency lacing his tone.
"Vesemir! Hurry!"
Before Letho could issue a warning, Vesemir dashed forward.
He halted mere feet away from Eilin, gazing at the slow rise of his apprentice and then at the decimated wraith's body, disbelief gripping him.
"My apprentice... actually won."