The Witcher: Grinding Experience Starting as a Wolf School Witcher

Chapter 1 The Witcher Apprentice, Alwin

Easter Sunday, 1228, the tenth day after the autumnal equinox.

High above the Blue Mountains, nestled among pine forests, stands a massive, dilapidated castle.

White clouds drifted over Kaer Mohen, and vines covered the mottled stone walls.

"drink!"

One soft shout after another rang out.

On the training ground, a slender figure continuously wielded a two-handed training sword, his arm muscles bulging, soaking his white linen shirt.

Sweat dripped from his dark bangs, sliding down his forehead and across his high nose, revealing a pair of venomous gray vertical pupils.

[Apprentice Swordsmanship Experience +1!]

A line of small print swept across the top of his line of sight.

Open the system panel.

Name: Alwin Thyssen

[Occupation: Witcher Apprentice]

Age: 14

[Mutant: Not yet available]

[Apprentice Swordsmanship Lv1: 99/100]

[Special Talent: Dual Soul (Purple)]

[Dual Soul: Transmigrator, whose mental strength has been greatly enhanced, possessing the ability to remember everything seen, and who can cast spells in two ways after their mental strength has reached a certain level.]

I'm just 1 point away from maxing out Apprentice Swordsmanship Lv1.

With this in mind, he continued to devote all his energy to training.

Just a month ago, he was playing The Witcher 3 on his computer at home alone. The various monsters, the mysterious and beautiful sorceresses, and the bizarre world captivated him.

But this was just a game. When he actually traveled to Kaer Morhen and became a witcher apprentice named Arwen, he was at a loss.

After several days of confusion, Alvin had to accept the cold reality: no computer, no comfortable environment, only relentless daily training.

"Thump!"

A powerful bell rang out in the castle.

Alwin put down his training sword and took a deep breath.

Suddenly, someone nudged my right arm.

Alwin glanced sideways.

The other person was about 1.6 meters tall, half a head taller than him. He was wearing the same apprentice uniform as him, and his face was covered in sweat. If it weren't for his pale, almost sickly complexion and sinister cat-like eyes, his first impression would have been quite good.

Paul, the Witcher apprentice, was the one with the closest relationship to Arwen among all six apprentices.

"The morning sword training is over, Alwin. Come on, let's go to the kitchen and have a glass of green juice."

Green fruit juice...

An unpleasant memory quickly surfaced in Alwin's mind.

A Witcher apprentice must go through four stages before becoming a full-fledged Witcher:

Choices, trials of grass, trials of dreams, and finally, trials of the high mountains.

This green juice is a special soup or drink that Witcher apprentices drink during the first stage of their training, "Choice."

The main ingredients are a mixture of mysterious mushrooms, moss, and herbs grown in the Witcher's Lab. This mixture can accelerate the metabolism of Witcher apprentices, and when combined with six years of rigorous training, it can help apprentices develop powerful muscle tissue and an absurdly healthy physique.

It looks wonderful, but all of this is done during a diet.

On Earth, even a few days of fitness and weight loss meals can make many people complain endlessly, let alone six whole years!

Losing one's mind is the least of one's problems; a slight misstep could lead to organ failure.

Arwen once believed that the Witcher's violent tendencies were influenced by his six years of dieting.

"No, I plan to train a little longer."

Alwin picked up his training sword again.

He was just one point away from leveling up, and he didn't want to give up halfway.

Upon hearing this, Paul put his arm around his shoulder and made a face with his finger.

"Oh, my friend, Master Vesemir isn't even here, so stop pretending."

"Let's go to the kitchen, we might even see that herbalist nun. Even though she's wearing a cloak, the skin on her exposed wrists is whiter than the milk she drinks. I bet you, she's a real beauty."

Alwin glanced at Paul's narrowed eyes, raised his shoulder, and swung Paul's left hand away.

Paul hummed in disapproval.

"This is pointless. I'm going to find them. Don't blame me for not leaving you any green juice."

Alwin disagreed.

Herbalist nun?

So what if she's a sorceress?

I've seen so many beautiful women on screen before.

Especially now, he still remembers how the original owner died.

The Trial of the Grasses is an absolute nightmare for all Witcher apprentices.

After drinking the special alchemical decoction called "Green Grass," the body and physiological structure will undergo a complete transformation within seven days, the most obvious changes being to the skin and cat eyes.

Moreover, the entire process is filled with pain and death.

Even a 40% survival rate is extremely lucky.

The terrifying risks undoubtedly represent extremely high rewards.

Those who pass the Grass Trial will gain not only cat eyes, but also physical attributes that are difficult for ordinary people to possess, as well as near-abnormal reaction speed.

Unfortunately, the original owner did not survive the final seventh day.

Fortunately, he, the time traveler, got a good deal.

Even so, he still dared not be careless.

There are two more trials ahead: the Dream Trial and the Mountain Trial.

The mortality rate remains high.

It's like the original owner had already suffered halfway through, and now he's suffering on his own.

With such immense pressure looming over him, Alwin had no interest in visiting a herbalist nun.

The right approach is to honestly accumulate experience and survive the mountain trials.

Just as he was about to raise his training sword, Alwin noticed light footsteps behind him.

Paul turned his head slightly and walked back with a mournful face.

Alwin didn't ask any questions, but his cat-like eyes narrowed sharply.

A tall figure came into view.

The man had his gray hair combed back, his face looked old, but he was broad-shouldered and burly, carrying two swords on his back.

What's most chilling are those amber vertical pupils; just one glance is enough to send shivers down your spine.

Vesemir, the Witcher Sword Master of Kaer Morhen.

He is also one of Arwen's favorite characters in The Witcher 3.

"Come here, children."

Vesemir spoke in a deep voice.

The six witcher apprentices scattered across the training ground quickly gathered in front of Vesemir.

Six pairs of cat eyes, each a different color, looked up at Vesemir, the leader of the pack, as if they were all young wolves.

Vesemir looked around at everyone and nodded slightly.

"A month is enough time for you wolf cubs to adapt to your new bodies. How are you all feeling?"

Alwin exchanged glances with the other five.

One of them pounded his chest, a smug look appearing in his cat-like eyes.

"I feel fantastic, Master Vesemir. Now, even if there's a ghoul in front of me, I won't be afraid. I can kill it."

"I can do that too. I haven't felt as tired as I used to be after these past few days of training."

The apprentices chattered excitedly, describing their progress over the past month.

Arwen remained silent, his gaze fixed on Vesemir's still cold and stern face.

He had a vague feeling that something bad was about to happen.

Vesemir narrowed his eyes.

Not as tired as before?

Ah, besides the Grass Trial strengthening my body, the most important thing is that I've gotten through the dieting phase of making a choice, and I can eat normal food now. Both my body and mind have been replenished.

Vesemir let out a low laugh.

"Kill ghouls? How youthful and impetuous."

"Very well, after the trial of the grass, it's time for you to see blood."

Upon hearing this, Alwin instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword with his right hand.

With a slight twitch of his ears, his hearing, far exceeding that of ordinary people, allowed him to hear a series of muffled sounds gradually coming from behind him.

That was the sound of iron chains hitting the ground.

No, not only that, there were also suppressed and muffled hissing breaths.