The Witcher: Astartes Of The bear School

Chapter 9: The Law of Surprise 

The bodies of witchers are magically enhanced, granting them lifespans far exceeding those of ordinary humans, which results in a much lower heartbeat rate. Thus, Bordon's bleeding was also occurring at a slower pace than that of an ordinary person. Even so, being pierced in the abdomen by a halberd meant that a pool of blood was forming beneath him. 

Both Lan and Bordon understood that time was running out for him. 

The foul stench of monster blood, human blood, and the earthy smell of grass combined to create a strange odor. Not long before, Lan would have vomited his bile within three seconds of encountering such a scent. But now, his boots splashed through the pool of blood, sending forth a wave of metallic tang, and he felt nothing. 

There was no denying that he had been changed by this world. 

"You went through the mutation perfectly from the very beginning." Bordon struggled to speak, his voice labored. "You still have your emotions." 

His words were stuttered, but they were astonishing enough that the halberd soldier, gathering the captain's body nearby, stared in shock and pulled his companion further away. Ordinary people would have already entered the state of dying by this point; witchers truly were mutants. 

Lan didn't mind the mess; he plopped down directly opposite Bordon, right in the blood-soaked earth. This was the most relaxed he had felt in a month. 

He smiled easily, "Yes, that's right." 

As he spoke, he tapped his finger against his forehead. "I'm quite lucky; the mutation process didn't take anything from me." 

Bordon's bushy head nodded woodenly, though the incredulity within him was something only he could comprehend. 

The process of mutating an ordinary person into a witcher was agonizing beyond human endurance. Most witchers were eccentric in temperament, a phenomenon resulting not only from the physiological mutations but also from the mental distortions caused by excessive pain. 

Yet here was a young man who, after a grueling seven-day transformation, had immediately formulated plans and concealed his emotions? 

What a joke. 

In his numbed shock, Bordon recalled the first time he met Lan. 

The young man had skin so delicate that even noblewomen would have envied it, and he was the type to tremble at the sight of a severed head. He was not someone who had endured hardship. He didn't even seem to have encountered the harshness of the world. 

Bordon had always thought Lan was a relative of some distant noble, accidentally transported here due to an incident. 

But a pampered softie wouldn't possess such will and foresight. 

Bordon, who had lived through the mutation process himself, remembered that even the most resilient and proud warrior's offspring would feel like a puddle of mud underfoot during their transformation. 

Yet Lan— 

"You're not the son of some far-off noble, are you?" Bordon's lips, still dripping blood, fixed their gaze on his student as he spoke each word with intent. 

"Even if you were a child of Foltest, I wouldn't believe you could possess your—" 

Foltest, the king of Temeria. 

Without a doubt, he was one of the most powerful figures in this land. He could undoubtedly provide the finest education and training for his heir, but Bordon still didn't think that such a person could compare to Lan's current performance. 

Not even close! 

Intellect, patience, decisiveness—there was a chasm filled with ancient wisdom and the scent of blood between them. 

Lan had known his situation from the start, even immediately formulating a countermeasure in that very moment. 

At least in terms of historical experience, Foltest could never produce someone like him. 

Lan adjusted the potion pouch in his hands, shrugging. 

"A little experience, a little knowledge, coupled with the constant threat of death under your pressure—this isn't too difficult for the education I've received. Of course, I never claimed to be a 'noble descendant.'" 

"Ah, yes, it's all just my speculation; you've never said anything." Bordon scoffed coldly. 

But Lan suddenly looked up, his eyes wide. "You smiled?" 

The increasingly weak giant was surprised himself, hesitating as he nodded. "Smile? Maybe. Perhaps the blood loss has diminished the inhibitions on my emotions. I'm starting to hate you a bit, but it's too late for that, isn't it?" 

Bordon's beard twisted into a faint smile, his gauntlet resting on his abdomen, where blood was pooling in the crevices of his armor. Even the slightest movement would cause it to spill out. 

Yes, at this point, the amount of blood lost made everything inconsequential. 

"It seems you have indeed regained some emotions, in the last moments of your life. So, would you be interested in talking?" 

"Talk?" Bordon wore an unpracticed smile, using his last strength to squirm on the ground, hoping to feel a bit more comfortable. Of course, this only caused more blood to flow. 

"What should we talk about?" 

"Let's talk about how you 'got' me. I don't believe you would save a penniless farmer." Lan's hands crossed, his interest piqued as he focused on his teacher. 

He had been delivered to Bordon by the "Law of Surprise"—that is, fate—from the hands of a farmer. 

The hellish, near-death experience of the mutation process and the constant sense of impending doom in the life of the apprentice all stemmed from that one "delivery." Lan was smiling now, but that didn't mean he no longer cared. On the contrary, he vividly remembered that day, when he had been handed over like a slave. 

Bordon, with nothing left to lose, spoke candidly. "Ah, the Law of Surprise. What a true surprise." 

The bearded man chuckled weakly, then recounted the details of the transaction to Lan. 

Bordon worked only for money; the suffering of the farmer meant no more to him than the weeds by the roadside. Yet, in the process of accomplishing his task, he had inexplicably saved a life, and he would never forfeit that reward. 

Even if the person hadn't posted a notice looking for a witcher, even if that person was someone who struggled to feed his family, he would still demand payment. 

This was the bear school witchers' greatest obsession. 

But Bordon also knew that in a place as poor as Velen, a farmer was truly destitute to the point of not being able to scrape together half a coin, so in his thoughts of "I must get something, anything, I can't return empty-handed," he invoked the Law of Surprise. 

So, when this unfortunate farmer brought Bordon home, opening the dilapidated door and allowing him to take something as per the law of surprise, the young man lying in the weeds, having inexplicably crashed through their roof, was, of course, the obvious choice. 

In the northern kingdoms, slavery was illegal, that much was true. But a person who appeared out of nowhere, without identity or proof of residency, could not be considered "human" in any era or country. 

Thus, the farmer promptly stripped the young man of his seemingly decent clothes and, claiming them as his own possessions, expelled him along with the mutant. 

"That's the situation; it's neither glorious nor astonishing. Not everyone is born to become a legend, and you certainly aren't one of them." Bordon mocked, and increasingly, he seemed to regain his humanity; but this phenomenon also meant he was losing more blood. 

"But for me—a mere contemptible witcher—your arrival was far too coincidental and absurd. So much so that even in my emotionless state, I was unwilling to take the risk of defying fate and abandon you. Thus, even though witchers usually work alone, I still turned you into one of my kind. Fortunately, you've done well; aside from the trial of the grasses, you've begun to make profit for me."