The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

Reaching another reinforced wooden stake, deeply buried and compacted, Ron shifted his body, adjusted his breathing, and then leaped into the air, the sound of his body crushing the ground drowned out by the whooshing sound of his body slamming forward.

The moment the shoulder armor struck the wooden stake, a dull thud followed. The thick stake snapped in two, the upper half flying off and rolling several times on the muddy ground before coming to a stop. Ron steadied himself, the shoulder armor plates snapping shut without any jamming.

No one spoke.

Miko's Adam's apple bobbed, and Pete stood at the edge of the fencing area, gently pressing his fingers on his knees.

All the recruits stopped what they were doing and turned to look. Cole didn't yell at them to line up again. He looked at the sword crater on the ground, then shifted his gaze to Ron, and said nothing.

Old Gott stood in front of the militia line, staring at the half-rolled-away log for a while, then turned to the equally stunned militiamen and said, "Spear stance, starting from the beginning, one by one."

Several civilians stood by the courtyard wall. The girl with the pigtails raised her hand and waved it vigorously in Ron's direction. Her mother next to her pressed her hands to her chest and took a low breath.

The woman who had been shivering with her child in the burning village was also in the crowd. Her lips moved twice, she whispered something, and then nodded, her eyes seeming to have calmed down a bit.

Two lightly wounded guards in blue uniforms leaned against the edge of the training field. One nudged his comrade with his elbow: "That day in the village..."

Before he could finish speaking, the other person lowered his voice and said, "That wasn't his full strength." They already knew the strength of this group when they sparred with the guards, but the current scene had exceeded the limits of what he could imagine.

Weiss remained silent throughout. She leaned against the fence, a blade of grass she had broken off from somewhere dangling from her mouth. She chewed the grass flat, took it out of her mouth, looked down at it, and then flicked it to the ground.

"What the hell are we even fighting for?"

She shook her head, not with fear, but with a helpless mockery, then got up from the fence and tilted her head as she passed Ron.

"Big guy, let me know next time you need to do a test, so I can have my people put on diapers in advance."

After speaking, he continued walking towards the swordplay area, the hem of his military uniform swaying gently behind him.

Brom stood at the blacksmith's door for a moment, lowered his arm from his chest, slammed the bellows shut, and turned to go inside.

Todd squatted beside the quenching tank, peering over the edge to watch the dust in the training field slowly settle. His lips moved, but he didn't dare to speak. He simply stirred the water in the quenching tank a couple more times.

Ron removed his helmet, stood in the center of the training ground, planted his greatsword in the mud, glanced down at his palm, and felt no numbness or stinging in the web of his hand through the iron gauntlet.

Brom's weight distribution is divided between plate armor and greatsword, for sieges and final battles, but this light armor is the preferred choice for the future.

He bent down, picked up the light armor, folded it, and placed it on his arm.

From the direction of the blacksmith's shop, the sound of hammers striking the furnace resumed, and Brom's voice came from the front of the furnace.

"Before the water-powered forging hammer starts operating, there will only be this one set of plate armor. The lamellar armor and breastplates will be mass-produced later, but the plate armor will probably only be enough to equip the Royal Guard."

On the training field, the recruits lined up again. Miko stood at the front of the line, holding the hilt of his sword. He glanced back at Ron, then turned back and began to correct the shield-holding posture of the first row.

A few days later, at the crow's nest.

The hall was filled with the strong smell of ale. When Ron came in after completing his routine inspection, the Baron was slumped in the high-backed oak chair, one leg draped over the armrest, a flask in his hand.

When Ron came in, he waved his hand, moved his lips a couple of times, uttered a few indistinct syllables, and then gave up. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot.

Ron didn't say anything, watching the Baron take another swig of wine, put the empty wine jug on the table, let it roll half a circle on the edge of the table, and then fall to the ground.

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the door, and a soldier from Crow's Nest ran in, stopped in front of Ron, saluted, and said, "Sergeant Major."

"The men the Baron sent out to search for the lady and young lady have been missing for a whole day."

The baron rolled over in his chair, muttering something under his breath, his arm hanging down, his fingers unconsciously clenching, then he stopped moving.

The soldier didn't look at the baron; he looked at Ron, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Lost contact near the south side of the swamp; Hans was in the group too."

Ron remembered the name: the young man who squatted by the training field, peeking at Fiona's sparring, fell into the mud, got up, and grinned, saying, "Can you teach me?"

Later, he was in charge of communication and supplies between Raven's Nest and Calard Manor. Half of the reason why the soldiers of Raven's Nest were able to get along with the people of the manor so quickly was because he ran away.

"How long has it been?"

"From yesterday evening until now"

Ron turned and walked towards the hall entrance. "Call the men and prepare the horses."

The forest south of the swamp remained gloomy and mottled at midday, the air thick with the smell of damp decay, and the horses' hooves clattered dully on the muddy ground.

Ron rode at the front, his greatsword hanging on the side of the horse, a javelin on his back, and his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Miko led his search team scattered through the woods, and every now and then someone would squat down to examine the tracks on the ground.

Various wild beasts and monsters occasionally roam the forest, but this road is unusually quiet. It's not that there are no wild beasts, but that they have avoided this area.

"Over here," Old Gott's voice came from not far away.

Ron rode past, and old Gott squatted under a tree, his fingers pressing on a dark mark on the ground. The blood was mostly dried, and the bloodstains stretched into the depths of the forest, intermittent, as if they had been dragged away.

After walking a few dozen steps, Miko raised his left hand, and everyone stopped.

The body of a male knight lay beside a fallen tree trunk, his upper and lower body connected only by a severed spine, his breastplate torn open, revealing a ripped leather lining.

It wasn't a sword or blade; it was torn apart by some greater force. In the nearby grass lay half an arm gripping a sword hilt, the blade stained with black blood.

The second body was leaning against a tree root, as if trying to escape, but it had been pierced from the side by some sharp weapon and pinned to the tree trunk.

Miko held the torch and looked at it for a moment, then stood up.

"Like a wild beast, but a wild beast wouldn't attack this way," his voice was heavier than usual. "This isn't hunting; it's purely for enjoyment."

The search continued, and old Gort found a cave at the edge of the woodland. The entrance was small, but it was covered with deep claw marks, stretching from the rock wall all the way to the ground.

There were some messy footprints on the ground, some were boot prints, and there was a set of small footprints, only half the size of an adult male.

A faint sob came from behind the pile of stones at the cave entrance. Ron raised his hand, and all the soldiers stopped at the same time.

He tiptoed around the pile of stones and found the source of the sound: a small girl crouching behind the stones, her hands covering her mouth.

Tears streamed down her face, leaving two deep furrows in the dust. She wore a patched linen dress with several tears in the hem.