Demon Hunter and His Hut

"The Witcher and His Cabin ()"

early morning.

Roger was awakened by the clanging outside and Lambert's characteristically vitriolic shouting.

He got up and walked to the window, and then saw Ciri in a corner of the yard, wearing her ridiculous outfit, holding a sword and jumping around several dummies on the wooden planks, waving manual weapons from time to time.

"Your speed is too slow, go faster, go faster, what are you thinking?"

"Attack the enemy's carotid artery instead of trimming his hair. There is time to hesitate. You have been killed by the opponent a hundred times."

Ciri pursed her lips and said nothing, but her eyes were firm and terrifying.

"It looks like it."

Lambert crossed his arms, rarely criticized.

"Okay, you can rest for a while, then we will have breakfast and prepare to start the formal training in the morning."

Hearing Lambert's words, Ciri's thin body collapsed immediately, and she gasped for breath. It seemed that the actions just now seemed simple, but they brought her a lot of pressure.

"Lambert, is there any way to make me go faster?"

"I'm too slow, sometimes I think, but my body just can't keep up."

She raised her head and stared at the aggressive man, "I really want to be like you and Geralt."

Lambert moved his lips and the lines on his face softened slightly, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid you can't be like us."

Ciri looked downcast.

"Um... Lambert, can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead." Lambert's attitude today was surprisingly good.

"You or Geralt... who is stronger?"

"Do you know any other powerful swordsmen in this world?"

"Geralt?" Lambert curled his lips. "He still has some real skills, maybe only a little bit better than me." He gestured with his fingers to an almost indistinguishable height.

"That's because he's older than me..."

"As for powerful swordsmen?" Lambert sneered, "How can there be such a boring ranking?"

"Don't let those legends fool your mind."

"What do you want to hear from me? A nickname like Shadow King, Flame Sword, Thunderbolt?"

"But at least someone should have heard their legends and know where they are?" Ciri asked.

"Where? I know that."

"Where is it?" Ciri's eyes lit up.

"In the grave."

Well……

The light in the girl's eyes dimmed. She tidied up and was about to leave when Lambert's voice suddenly came from behind her.

"I don't know what powerful swordsmen there are in this world. Apart from demon hunters, there should be some good swordsmen among ordinary people."

"But I know who is the most powerful swordsman in the world?"

Ciri turned her head and looked puzzled, she always felt that what Lambert said seemed inconsistent.

"It's Roger."

"There will not be a stronger swordsman than him in this world."

Lambert let out a breath.

"You'll find out later."

There was a gloomy flash in his eyes, "Okay, let's come here today and go to eat."

The girl ran back to the castle excitedly with doubts, and Lambert put away all the utensils one by one.

These things have not been used in many years.

In the future, it seems that it will not.

…………

"You want me to guide her?" Roger put down the spoon at the table.

Borch brought a lot of supplies to Roger last night, and the richness inside was far beyond everyone's imagination, which led to the richness of today's breakfast even surpassing that of the palace.

And hearing Vesemir's words, not only Roger, but Ciri also raised his head from the gorge, puffed his cheeks, and looked at Roger in a daze.

"No one is more suitable than you, at least in terms of swordsmanship," Geralt said.

"In fact, on the first day we picked her up, we all agreed that,

It's just that I haven't been able to find your whereabouts. "

"And now you're back."

"So, Roger..."

Roger pondered for a while, "I may not only teach her swordsmanship."

"Then what else can you teach him, spells?"

Lambert said suddenly, "We've already tried, she couldn't activate any of the seals..."

"Basic magic is fine." Roger paused and tore off a piece of bread. "I have recovered a little bit of memory from my recent travels."

"Or rather, knowledge."

He looked up and scanned the crowd, "So do you want her to become a real witcher?"

"No, absolutely not!"

Everyone said in unison.

"Why?!" Ciri slammed on the table, "I want to become stronger, I want revenge, I want to fight for that city..."

"Calm down!" Geralt snorted.

"If you only have hatred in your heart, then you can put down your sword and leave."

Geralt's eyes were frighteningly indifferent, tears filled Ciri's eyes, and then she stood up abruptly, pushed down the chair and ran out of the hall.

"This child is different." Vesemir sighed, and shared their observation.

Roger had known this for a long time.

Ciri carries the blood of the ancient elves, and she herself is equivalent to a source of magic. At the same time, this special blood can allow her to travel between planes after she grows up.

In a sense, Roger himself is also a special child of destiny, but his nature is different from Ciri's.

"That force is very powerful, and you Roger, although you are the number one witcher, you are not an expert in using spells after all."

"We can't even give her an overly aggressive drug, which will affect her hormones and the distribution of power in her body."

Escal added.

But Cohen, who had been silent all this time, suddenly noticed another problem.

"Roger, did you just say a real witcher?" His breathing suddenly became rapid.

"Can I understand that you have a way to restart the trial and train new apprentice demon hunters!"

As soon as these words came out, everyone's eyes fell on Roger.

"Of course." Roger smiled and spread his hands.

But after a moment of excitement and silence, the expected joy did not erupt in the room.

"Let's discuss Ciri's affairs."

Geralt broke the silence.

"Becoming a demon hunter is too difficult. I don't want Ciri to only choose monsters and killing in her future life."

"The prejudices we face should not be borne by her."

"Yeah, yeah, it's really a high-sounding reason." Lambert sneered, "When I was sent here, why didn't anyone ask me for my opinion?"

After speaking, he patted the table heavily, turned and left.

The room fell silent again.

"Okay, I promise you to guide her swordsmanship, and of course I will properly increase her strength according to my method."

"About the use of energy..."

"We've already enlisted the help of other people," Geralt said.

"She should be on her way."

"Oh?" Roger asked curiously.

"It's Triss Merigold."

A look of unnaturalness flashed in Geralt's eyes at the mention of the name.