Chapter 19: The Drowner Swarm
POV: Viktor
The sound of rushing water had been a welcome relief after two days of dusty road travel, promising a chance to refill their water skins and maybe even wash some of the accumulated grime from their journey. The river crossing looked peaceful enough—shallow water running over smooth stones, with well-worn paths on both sides indicating regular use by travelers.
Viktor should have known that peaceful appearances in this world were usually a prelude to something trying to kill him.
The attack came without warning. One moment Viktor was kneeling by the water's edge, enjoying the sensation of cool liquid washing the dust from his hands, and the next moment eight gray-green shapes were erupting from the river like nightmares given flesh.
Drowners. Again.
"Oh, come on!" Viktor scrambled backward as the first creature lunged at him with webbed claws extended. "This is getting ridiculous!"
[PREMONITION SENSE ACTIVATED]
[MULTIPLE THREATS DETECTED]
[DANGER LEVEL: MODERATE]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: IMMEDIATE EVASION]
Viktor's enhanced instincts screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go except—
Up.
Without conscious thought, Viktor spun toward the nearest tree and leaped for the lowest branch, his enhanced agility carrying him higher than should have been possible for someone of his build. Behind him, he heard the wet snap of jaws closing on empty air.
"Prophet!" Geralt's voice cut across the chaos as the Witcher's silver sword cleared its sheath. "Make yourself useful!"
Viktor clung to his branch and watched as Geralt and Renfri engaged the drowner swarm with the kind of coordinated efficiency that spoke of long practice at violence. The Witcher moved like liquid death, his enhanced reflexes turning combat into art, while Renfri danced between the creatures with deadly grace.
But there were eight drowners, and even enhanced humans had limits. Viktor could see the creatures' pack tactics in action—some engaging directly while others tried to flank, their primitive intelligence enough to recognize that their prey was dangerous.
"I need to help somehow," Viktor muttered, his MP sitting at a pathetic 10 points. Not enough for Temporal Sense, barely enough for anything useful, but maybe—
"Success Rate Analysis: Which drowner is the alpha?"
[MANA DECREASED: 10 → 0]
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
[ALPHA PROBABILITY: 70% - LARGEST SPECIMEN, LEFT FLANK]
[BEHAVIORAL PATTERN: COORDINATING PACK ATTACKS]
[TACTICAL RECOMMENDATION: ELIMINATE ALPHA TO DISRUPT COORDINATION]
Viktor's enhanced perception highlighted the target—a drowner significantly larger than its packmates, hanging back from the direct combat while making guttural sounds that seemed to direct the others' movements.
"GERALT!" Viktor shouted, his voice carrying across the riverside battle. "Big one, left flank! It's controlling them!"
The Witcher's amber eyes flicked toward the indicated target, and Viktor saw the moment when Geralt's tactical assessment aligned with Viktor's analysis. The silver sword carved a devastating arc through the water, taking two drowners out of the fight, before pivoting toward the alpha with surgical precision.
The pack leader barely had time to register the threat before Geralt's blade opened its throat in a spray of brackish blood. The effect on the remaining drowners was immediate and dramatic—their coordinated attacks collapsed into confused thrashing as their command structure disappeared.
Renfri took advantage of the chaos to finish off the stragglers, her steel blade finding gaps in chitinous hide with the efficiency of someone who'd made a career of killing things. Within moments, the riverside was littered with drowner corpses, and the only sounds were the gentle rush of water and Viktor's relieved breathing.
[COMBAT ASSISTANCE PROVIDED]
[STRATEGIC ANALYSIS SUCCESSFUL]
[SYSTEM POINTS GAINED: 25]
[CURRENT SYSTEM POINTS: 950 → 975]
Viktor dropped from his tree with significantly more grace than he'd climbed it, his enhanced agility making the descent feel almost natural. Geralt was cleaning his sword on one of the drowner corpses, while Renfri stood knee-deep in the river, washing ichor from her blade.
"You have a drowner curse, prophet," Renfri called out, her tone light despite the carnage around them. "They follow you wherever you go."
"The first one drowned itself!" Viktor protested, settling onto a dry rock and trying to look dignified despite having spent the entire fight hiding in a tree. "That's not my fault!"
"You climbed a tree," Geralt observed, his tone perfectly deadpan. "Again."
"It's a valid strategy! Strategic positioning for optimal intelligence gathering and tactical analysis!"
Renfri laughed—a sound that was becoming more frequent and more genuine with each passing day. Even Geralt's perpetual glare seemed to soften slightly, though the Witcher's expression remained carefully neutral.
"Strategic positioning," Renfri repeated, her green eyes dancing with amusement. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"I prefer 'elevated reconnaissance.' It has a more professional sound."
Viktor tried to maintain his dignity as they resumed their journey, but he could feel his companions' continued amusement radiating from them like heat from a fire. The drowner encounter had apparently solidified his role in their group dynamic—not as a fighter, but as the one who climbed trees and provided useful information from a safe distance.
It wasn't exactly the heroic image he'd envisioned when he'd first arrived in this world, but it was undeniably effective. His tactical analysis had shortened the fight and probably prevented injuries that would have slowed their travel.
"I'm a chronomancer, not a monster hunter," Viktor muttered as they crossed the river, his boots squelching in the shallow water. "Climbing trees is perfectly dignified behavior for someone of my... unique skill set."
"Keep telling yourself that," Renfri said, but her tone was fond rather than mocking.
Behind them, the drowner corpses bobbed gently in the current, another addition to Viktor's growing reputation as someone whose presence somehow attracted aquatic monsters. It was becoming a pattern that he wasn't entirely comfortable with, but at least his survival rate was improving.
As they reached the far bank and continued down the road toward Posada, Viktor found himself thinking about combat roles and group dynamics. He wasn't a warrior like Geralt or Renfri, but he was becoming something arguably more valuable—a strategic asset who could see patterns and possibilities that others missed.
It wasn't the power fantasy he'd dreamed of as a child, but it was real, and it was his.
And if it occasionally required climbing trees to avoid being eaten by monsters, well, that was just part of the job description.
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