The Witcher picked up his longsword, gave Aldric a small nod, and walked out of the tent into the open wilderness. Taking a deep breath of the cool air, he began to speak in his calm, measured tone.
"The Pirouette Sword Style. The Witcher who first made this art famous throughout the world was none other than the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia. The name Pirouette comes from dance; it means a graceful spin. And that, in essence, is the very soul of this sword technique."
As he spoke, the gleaming blade [White Wolf's Claw] began to dance lightly in his hands. His movements were fluid yet precise, his footwork graceful and controlled. With each turn and pivot, he displayed the perfect balance of elegance and lethality.
What appeared to be a beautiful dance was, in truth, a symphony of death. Each spin, each step, relied on one leg as the axis, channeling every ounce of strength and momentum into the weapon in his grasp.
The rotations seemed effortless, serene, and almost artistic — yet within them surged the terrifying power of gathered inertia. The sword sliced through the air with a sharp, piercing whistle, reminding anyone who listened that this was not a performance, but a Dance of Slaughter.
The Witcher's pace quickened, and the speed of his blade grew exponentially faster. Yet his voice remained steady as ever:
"This sword art demands tremendous strength and control of the wrist, and it consumes an enormous amount of stamina. But in return, it achieves a perfect harmony between power, endurance, and agility. By harnessing the momentum of your spin, you can effortlessly cut through heavy armor — even the flesh and bone of massive monsters. Because of its difficulty, few Witchers practice this style. But throughout countless battles, the Pirouette Blade has proven itself to be one of the most efficient ways to kill."
Aldric had studied several traditional two-handed sword techniques before, but most of what he'd learned were incomplete remnants of old schools. To witness a combat form so complete, so beautiful, and yet so devastating — this was the first time he had ever seen such mastery.
Combat techniques could only be honed through relentless self-discipline. To master a high-tier sword art like this, he would need to push himself to the very edge. Players in this world might bypass years of training with attributes and talents, but no one could truly acquire a skill this intricate through shortcuts.
Swordsmanship was not a simple "skill" that could be learned from a system menu. No matter how many styles one "knew," all that truly mattered was the proficiency of the weapon itself. Yet training through proper sword techniques could greatly accelerate the growth of that proficiency — and that was what made it invaluable.
For over an hour, the Witcher demonstrated the complete sequence of the Pirouette Sword Style. His once-smooth and deadly motions were slowed down into deliberate, broken segments for teaching. Every step, every twist of the wrist, every transition between spins — he explained them all in painstaking detail. To an untrained eye, it may have looked awkward or stiff, far less dazzling than before. But to Aldric, it was the revelation of a lifetime.
In his eyes, his master had turned this sword art into instinct. Even the sword masters at the Wuju Martial Institute back on Gaia weren't half as skilled as the Witcher before him.
Aldric couldn't help but wonder — how could a game company simulate combat movements of such incredible precision? He was certain that the sword hall he came from had already reached the peak of real-world martial science. All ancient techniques and modern fighting methods had long been studied, analyzed, and refined to perfection.
What he didn't know, however, was that this world — built primarily around cold weapon combat — had already been quietly running for twelve hundred years in virtual time before any player had ever logged in.
The sword styles that survived in this world were not theoretical recreations — they were the distilled result of countless lifetimes of struggle and death within the simulation. Every subtle shift in angle, every hidden burst of strength, was a secret refined through centuries of bloodshed.
Yet, watching his teacher, Aldric sensed that this technique somehow carried echoes of Earth's martial systems — familiar yet elusive, as though he had seen it before but couldn't quite recall where.
But as someone from a world of information and science, Aldric had both the theoretical foundation and real combat experience to adapt quickly. The endless hours he had spent in the Sword Hall, along with the analytical combat systems of his era, had given birth to an efficient and logical approach to mastering any fighting style.
The Witcher, for his part, was astonished by how quickly his apprentice progressed. Within just a single morning, Aldric had already grasped the basics of the Pirouette Blade. His execution was still a bit rough, but his timing, power, and rotation were shockingly precise — as if he'd trained in this art for over a decade.
Watching him, the Witcher felt a mix of pride and unease. His student's potential seemed limitless, perhaps even surpassing his own. As Aldric continued practicing, he began refining the technique, subtly modifying stances and movements to better fit his own fighting rhythm. The Witcher couldn't help but feel a pang of age and nostalgia, was he already being outpaced by a new generation?
Meanwhile, Aldric was fully absorbed in the rhythm of the sword. The longer he practiced, the smoother his movements became. Then, suddenly, realization struck him — he had seen this before!
Two years ago, after defeating his own fencing instructor for the first time, Aldric had been invited to join the Inner Circle of the Sword Hall, not a secret order, but a society of elite combat enthusiasts who had achieved mastery in martial arts.
At their first gathering, amidst laughter and debate, one of the members — a military technology tester — brought up an intriguing question:
"If the latest exoskeleton combat suits can achieve millisecond-level reaction speed, could traditional martial arts once again dominate the battlefield?"
Most of those present had military backgrounds, and even Aldric, the youngest of them, was a cadet at a military academy. Thus, they freely discussed classified topics.
The debate quickly expanded. If one were to fight using a full-body exoskeleton, how should cold weapons be wielded to maximize lethality? Would swordsmanship need to be redesigned from the ground up?
A few days later, Aldric's instructor took him, under strict security clearance, into a hidden military research facility — where that so-called "millisecond exoskeleton" was no mere rumor.
Over the next half-month, a group of top-tier swordsmen from across the nation took turns testing the prototype. They experimented with countless sword techniques adapted to the suit's incredible speed and strength.
As the youngest and most physically resilient of them, Aldric had to don the exoskeleton repeatedly, serving as the live tester for every idea. Whether those techniques were ever officially adopted, he didn't know — but the experience had dramatically honed his swordsmanship.
Now, as he felt the immense force flowing through his rotating body, Aldric marveled at how those wild, theoretical discussions had manifested into reality in this world. As a Transcendent, his body far surpassed human limits — he was, in essence, the perfect fusion of man and machine, far beyond even the most advanced exoskeleton suit.
The Witcher watched silently as his apprentice moved faster and faster, his body twisting and spinning like a living storm. Each motion became smoother, sharper, more devastating. The boy's strength, balance, and control harmonized into something almost divine. Even the Witcher, Gonz himself, began to gain new insights into the technique while watching him.
The Dance of Slaughter had never looked so magnificent.
(End of Chapter)