The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

Chapter 126 The Vilka People's Provocation

The watchtower was at the highest point of the castle. Ron followed behind Kerris and quickly went up the spiral staircase to the end.

Kairis pushed open the heavy wooden door, and a biting wind instantly filled her sleeves. Standing on the terrace, she looked down and saw the entire bay. White sails dotted the sea, and snow-capped mountains were faintly visible in the distance, hidden by clouds. The islands scattered across the archipelago looked like jewels casually scattered on the ground.

Ron gazed at the magnificent seascape, but he didn't notice that Karis's self-illumination wasn't directed outside the tower. Instead, she would occasionally glance at his profile, her eyes gleaming with a certain light. The wind blew the stray hairs across her forehead, but she didn't reach out to gather them.

The following day, the succession ceremony took place.

As Ron and Geralt walked side by side toward Kael'thas, they found the gates closed. A man in a dark coat stood in the doorway and quickly approached them.

"Mr. Ron, Master Geralt, the tower guards saw you and sent me to open the door for you." The man bowed slightly.

"Arndard, why are the doors closed for today's initiation ceremony?" Geralt stared at the tightly shut doors. "Is this your so-called hospitality?"

Ron didn't speak, his gaze remaining fixed on Arne Ward's face.

"It's not what you think, it's our tradition," Arne Ward quickly explained.

"After the feast, the lords will elect a new king, so the gates must be closed, and only the people of Skellige may remain in the castle."

"So why invite us? Geralt and I both received invitations yesterday," Ron asked.

"We all know that Master Geralt helped Kerris, Mr. Ron, and Halmar fight side by side to hunt down giants, so you two are part of our group today. Please come with me; Kratz is waiting for you."

Geralt lowered his voice and asked, "How's the atmosphere inside now?"

Arne Ward's expression became subtle. "Quiet, too quiet."

"This doesn't seem like Skellige's style of partying," Ron said, raising an eyebrow.

Arne Ward walked ahead, glancing back at Ron. "Yes, we Skelliges have a proverb: to truly enjoy a feast, mead and blood are both essential. You inlanders probably think we're being barbaric."

"Not necessarily, it sounds quite interesting."

As soon as the three entered the hall, they bumped into Halma and Karis arguing fiercely around the corner.

"You have the rights, and so do I!" Karis's voice was firm.

"Karis, I'm counting on you to support me, not to offend all our allies!" Halma scratched her head in frustration. "If only members of the Clayth family can inherit the throne, then..."

"Should you be the one to inherit it?" Kairis interrupted him. "Why should you? Because you have a full beard?"

Harma frowned. "If you're so capable, why don't you grow a beard? Maybe those lords will listen to you!"

Kairis sneered. "Are you trying to force me to fight? Don't forget, I was the one who was left standing the last time we clashed."

"Is that so? So what? Dare to come with me and meet the Vilka people? Let's see who's stronger... you, or the giant-slayer Halma!"

"Ha! Ridiculous!" Kerris's eyes were filled with undisguised mockery. "You're just bragging. If it weren't for Ron, you wouldn't have been able to defeat the giant!"

Kairis snorted coldly, turned around, and strode away.

"Karis! Hey! Ugh, damn it!" Halma kicked a stone pillar in frustration as she watched her sister's retreating figure.

"What's wrong? You disagree? You won't get anywhere arguing like this," Ron said, stepping forward.

"Ron, of course I know, but look at her attitude, it's just...it's just..."

Arne Ward chimed in quietly, "Stubborn? Fierce? Domineering? Ignoring other people's opinions?"

Halma paused for a moment, then grinned. "Absolutely right!"

Ron's lips curled up, but he didn't say anything, just looked at Halma.

Halma was silent for a moment, then burst into laughter, hands on her hips. "Hahaha! Okay, I admit it, neither Kairis nor I should laugh at each other in this regard."

Geralt's gaze swept around, but he didn't see any familiar figures. "I don't see Kratz. Did he go to find another lord?"

“No,” Yannwald said, “he went back to his room, probably to prepare the reward we agreed on for you.”

"Ron, let's go spar with the Vilkas, just to stretch our muscles," Halma said, stretching his shoulders. "They're really not happy with you..."

"The Vilka people? Who are they?"

Halma scratched the back of his head. "Uh... a group of savages living in the mountains. They neither farm nor herd livestock. They live by killing, eating whatever they hunt. They are born warlike and bloodthirsty."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Sounds interesting. Let's go meet them, Geralt, wanna come along?"

Geralt shook his head. "No, I have to go find Kratz first. You guys go ahead."

Ron nodded and followed Halma toward the northeast corner of the hall, where several men dressed in animal skins stood. They were muscular and had long hair and beards. A small area was left empty around them, and no one wanted to get too close.

One of the bald men was grinning, his voice hoarse and filled with undisguised contempt.

"A bunch of cowards! Didn't they eat?"

"Is there anyone else who dares to step forward and take on the challenge?"

As Ron walked over, the crowd automatically parted to make way for him. Some people recognized him and whispered something to the person next to them, while most just looked at him with curiosity and anticipation in their eyes. Yesterday's drinking had left an impression on many people, and some even nodded to him in greeting.

The bald Vilka man's eyes lit up, and he pointed at Ron with disdain. "Aha, you're the guy they bragged about who could wrestle with giants, right? Looks pretty good. How about you come up and give it a try!"

"Haha! You want to challenge Ron? Then don't come back crying later!" Halma laughed.

The bald man glared fiercely at Halma. "Heh, looks like that punch didn't teach you a lesson. Our soldiers aren't known for bragging."

Ron walked to the center of the field, stopped, and said, "Enough with the nonsense, are you in or not?"

The bald man walked to the center of the field and beckoned to Ron with his finger. Ron ignored his provocation and simply stood quietly in place, looking down at him.

The man seemed enraged by that look, roared, and swung his fist down hard at Ron's chest.

boom!

Ron didn't move an inch. He glanced down at his chest and uttered two words, "That's it?"

The bald man's eyes widened; he seemed never to have imagined that his full-force punch would elicit such a reaction.

He took a step back, roared with all his might, and slammed his fist down again, landing in the same spot, but Ron still didn't move.

Ron raised his right hand, made a fist, and casually swung it on the man's shoulder.

boom!

The bald man was swept away by the immense force and slammed heavily against the wall, sending dust flying. With a deafening roar, several cracks appeared on the hard stone wall. The man slid down the wall and fell to the ground, immediately losing consciousness.

Ron withdrew his fist, glanced down at the bald man on the ground, and looked somewhat surprised. "His bones aren't broken, he's just passed out? Looks like these Vilka people really do have some skill."

The onlookers were stunned. After a moment, short gasps were heard, followed by suppressed whispers. The remaining few Vilka people stared wide-eyed at the dent in the wall, their Adam's apples bobbing with difficulty. No one dared to take another step forward.