The Divine Hunter

Once again, the witchers found themselves gathered in the familiar lab, the fires of the braziers shining on them. Auckes and Lambert were pacing around like cats on hot bricks. Letho, Eskel, Kiyan, and Geralt looked calm, while Vesemir, Serrit, and Aiden were leaning on the wall with their arms crossed. Anticipation was welling within their eyes, but so did anxiety.

The witchers were waiting outside a closed metal door like fathers awaiting the birth of their children.

Long did they wait. Their patience was wearing thin, but eventually, the door was opened, and out came Felix. There was exhaustion in his eyes, his face as pale as a tombstone. His back, usually straight, was hunched, and his glimmering eyes were dim.

He could see the anticipation in his companions’ eyes, but he leaned on the wall in silence, refusing to tell them about the results. Instead, he rubbed his cheeks weakly.

The witchers felt their hearts sink. Did it fail?

“You look like you lost your kid, Felix. Did something happen to Carl?” Auckes shook Felix’s shoulder like a madman.

Felix hung his head low, still holding onto the silence. His face was hidden in the shadows.

Lambert was more direct. He strode into the room and went straight to the operating theater.

The boy was lying on the surface. He was in a grey silk robe, his eyes closed, and he was unmoving. The boy looked a little more grown up than before he took the Trial. His chin retracted by a bit, but he still looked clean and innocent. He looked like he had departed this world and fallen into a deep slumber.

Roy was standing around the stalagmites, holding Lytta in his embrace with one arm and her hand in his own. He was whispering something into her ear, perhaps some consolation.

Lytta was leaning onto Roy’s chest, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears.

“Where’s the acorn? Why didn’t you use it?” Lambert extended a shaky hand to touch the boy. The witchers behind him looked solemn, their eyes filled with sadness.

But when Lambert made contact, he wondered what all the fuss was about. “He doesn’t feel dead to me.”

A moan escaped the boy’s lips. He felt someone touching his forehead, and when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were pairs of wild eyes staring at him. Shocked, Carl narrowed his eyes into slits. “Lambert? Vesemir? Why is everyone here?”

“Dammit, you guys! That was an act, wasn’t it?”

Lytta chuckled. “I hope you liked it.”

A smile curled Roy’s lips as well. It had been a while since he saw his companions losing their composure, and it was fun.

Anger only held the witchers’ minds for a moment, and then they broke into smiles. The reason they came all the way to Novigrad and joined this new organization was for this exact moment. Months and months of effort finally culminated in the birth of a new witcher. It was worth it.

Excited and exhilarated, the witchers extended their hands to Carl. Before the boy could react, he was already drowning in pairs of muscular arms. The witchers wanted to see how the new apprentice was faring.

Felix let out a hearty laugh and pulled his sunglasses down again. He puffed his chest out and approached his student. “Hey, he’s my student. I’ve trained him for almost six months. Of course it’d work out. This Trial is nothing.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t stop complaining and worrying about him at first.” Auckes scoffed. “And he passed the Trial no thanks to you. It’s all because of Lytta.”

“Yes. Lytta did the heavy lifting.” He gave Lytta—who was holding Roy’s arm—a grateful look. “She made sure Carl had everything he needed to pass the Trial. But even so, without a mentor who taught him every day, Carl wouldn’t have passed the Trial at all. Don’t you think so, Carl?”

“Hey, that’s enough. Stop it!” Serrit pulled the boy out of the crowd and looked at him with concern. “Carl, I need you to tell me something. How do you feel? Any side effects from the Trial?”

Carl’s hair was unkempt, and he was suffocating from the lack of air. The boy lay down on the operating theater and heaved a few sighs. “I…” Fear flashed in his eyes. He was first reminded of the hell he had to go through.

First, he was tossing and turning and squirming like a maggot. An invisible knife was gouging out his bones and organs, keeping him awake at all times. And he had to go through the agony fully awake.

He couldn’t stop crying. The pain was almost too much to bear. That was the one time he had cried so much in his life. Lytta even told him his heart stopped beating three times. And Carl swore he wouldn’t go through this a second time.

Eventually, the pain stopped. When Carl clenched his fists once more, he felt full of energy. A great sense of confidence welled within him. “Lytta checked on me, and there’s no side effect at all. I feel great.”

He leapt off the operating theater and ran around the veteran witchers barefooted. The witchers noticed the change in Carl. No longer was he frail and fragile. He looked like a twelve-year-old instead of a nine-year-old now.

The new apprentice clenched his fists by his side. He put one leg forward and stood upright. His shoulders were relaxed, and he got into the plow position. But as he wasn’t used to his newfound strength, his stance lost all form.

Roy cast Observe once more.

‘Carl

Age: Nine years old

Gender: Male

Status: Manticore

HP: 160

Mana: 90

There’s supposed to be a gift for anyone who passes the Trial? Roy looked at Letho.

The bald witcher raised his head and mouthed, ‘Gwyhyr.’

Roy froze. Letho shook his head and handed the boy a notebook that had all his alchemy tips and tricks recorded within it. “Feel proud, kid. Nobody else has so many mentors. I have a gift for you too.”

The other witchers presented their gifts as well. Things like beautifully crafted wooden dolls, journals that recorded the witchers’ combat experiences, leather gloves and boots made by the witchers, and more.

Lytta also gave him a magical pendant that contained a one-time spell in it. The Magic Shield could save his life in a dire situation.

Roy gave him a bottle that was filled with the teeth of more than a dozen monsters, including the basilisk and katakan. He considered giving Carl the notebook he always carried with him. It detailed all the experience he’s had since he stepped onto this path. But he changed his mind in the end. He was reluctant to part with that book.

Auckes’ gift was the worst of them all. It was an anthology of stupid love poems he spent most of his days making. Solemnly, he said, “Carl, I know you like Vicki. Now listen to me. She’s a shy lady who can’t resist romantic poems. Hold this close. It contains all my masterpieces. Once you’ve memorized them all, recite one to her. She’s gonna feel so moved, she’s going to marry you on the spot.”

Carl turned red, and he tucked the book away carefully, and then he looked at Roy and Lytta. He nodded. “Sirs and lady, may I show these gifts to Monti and the boys?”

“They belong to you now. You may do whatever you wish.” Roy nodded. That’s the reason we’re giving you these gifts. We’re counting on you, Carl. Lure them in.

Carl held the gifts tightly. He looked at everyone around him, and tears started to well in his eyes. His shoulders started to tremble, and sobs escaped his lips.

“Why are you crying? You’re a little man now.” Felix wiped the tears off Carl’s face. He was a little miffed, but also moved.

“Nobody has ever given me so many gifts before. Nobody has been this nice to me,” Carl answered shakily. He looked at the witchers’ pendants and licked his lips. “But why don’t I have any medallions? Did I fail my Trial?”

“Ahem. You’ve passed the Trial, but you need to pass the brotherhood’s Trial of the Medallion to get this,” Vesemir said. “Once you’ve killed ten monsters all by yourself and meditated at a Circle of Elements, you’ll be granted a medallion.”

The brotherhood was also coming up with a solution to the apprentice’s medallion. His mentor was a Cat, but witchers from three different schools came to educate him, and the Trial he took belonged to the Manticore School. And so the problem came: what medallion should he wear?

After a lot of discussions, Felix relented. Carl could pick his favorite medallion from the six styles available. Vesemir and Lytta would make it for him.

Lambert and Auckes even brought up an interesting suggestion. They said the medallion should have more variety in it. They thought bringing in leshens and dragons would be nice, but the majority of the witchers rejected it.

“Alright, time for business, people. We have a new apprentice now, and this is a significant breakthrough. A historic moment.” Vesemir looked invigorated. He looked at Roy. “I didn’t take Roy’s theories seriously back in Kaer Morhen, but now he has proven himself to be a visionary.”

Eskel and Geralt fell into silence. They didn’t really like the Trial of the Grasses, but after getting along with the children and bearing witness to the birth of a new witcher, they changed their minds a little.

If they could ensure a high success rate and low chances of complications, the Trial could be a way to a better future for orphans like Carl.

Kiyan was smiling all the way. The light in his eyes was gentle, and even his scars looked less intimidating. He was reminded of what Geralt told him back in Est Tayiar. Destiny decreed that we survive, and we must look forward. That is the role of the survivors. He did that, and it bore great results. Kiyan would keep training these orphans as long as he could.

Lambert, Serrit, and Auckes were raring to go. They wanted to pick one of the remaining kids and trained them to be new witchers.

Letho smiled, but he said nothing. All he did was look at Roy and Carl. This was the second apprentice he taught. He did something nobody in the Viper School ever did in decades. If they kept sticking to the brotherhood’s mission, he knew the school would be revived in the end. No. Not just the school. The entire witcher community will benefit from this.

Carl whispered something into Coral’s ear and pulled his arm away. He then approached Aiden, the only one who was watching from the sidelines. “Look here, people. Today is not just Carl’s graduation.” Roy shot Aiden a knowing smile.

Aiden was reminded of that bet they had in the sewers. He took part in most of the brotherhood’s business and worked for a common goal over the last few months. Eventually, he saw the brotherhood as a place to rest.

Now that he had bore witness to the birth of a witcher who suffered no side effects like his tormented colleagues, he had no reason not to join.

“Brothers, you’ve been creating miracle after miracle. I’ve been watching from the sidelines, and I have a dream.” Aiden’s eyes glimmered with a plea. “May I have the honor of joining this great brotherhood and fighting by your side as a brother?”

“You’ve finally thought it through!” Lambert thumped Aiden’s chest and held his arm happily. Then he wiggled his eyebrows at the confused Carl. “You’re my lucky star, Carl. It’s good news all the way today.”

“Welcome to the brotherhood.” Letho extended his hand.

The witchers huddled closer to Aiden, and they put their hands together in the center. Aiden, Lambert, Letho, Auckes, Serrit, Vesemir, Geralt, Eskel, Felix, Kiyan, and Roy. All witchers extended their hand

Lytta rolled her eyes and chortled. Then she too placed her hand on the top of the pile.

Felix shot his apprentice a look, and one last, petite hand placed itself on the top of the pile as well. It belonged to Carl, and he was a new witcher.

Everyone exchanged a look, their eyes filled with resolve and ambition.

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End of Arc

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