One-of-a-kind [Geralt of Rivia x Reader]

.｡❅*⋆⍋ Introduction ⍋⋆*❅｡.

Somewhere upon the Blue Mountains

I choked yet again, spluttering clumps of red staining fluid on the white and cold ground. I clenched my fists and my jaw, pushing through the immense pain to get on my feet steadily. The figure of a man approached and he cleared his throat in a low grunt.

— Stop. We're done for the day-

— One more time, I insisted.

I marched towards the old and crinkly wood structure for another tentative. I inhaled deeply and hopped on my feet, in a defensive manner. I slowly and vigilantly advanced, whilst the planks cracked under my weight. I analyzed the swinging motion and pace of the objects in front of me. I coordinated my hopping, succeeding the first stage. I stumbled to the next obstacle, but then I suddenly lost all my senses. Everything around me turned white, the sound of the strong wind rustling gone, as the cold stinging air of the mountains stopped burning my skin. My surroundings were now replaced by a vast forest, birds lightly chirping in the distance. I tried taking a look around me, lost. It felt like a fever dream, every sound muffled. I could hear echoing steps, maybe those of a horse. I inched to my right, getting a glimpse of the silhouette of the horse in question, trotting on a soil path, guided by what appears to be a man on his back. Everything's so blurry, I could barely see. I closed my eyes, surrounded by a world that suddenly switched back to normal when I slowly opened them back. I squinted my eyes to the return of the blinding white light of winter. My body laid, injured, on the ground. A shiver went down my spine. I rolled onto my back, grabbing the side of my right arm, sore and hurting. I howled in pain. The face of one of the witchers appeared on top of me.

— Y/N. What the hell happened up there?

I hit the ground with my other fist, my chest shaking in frustration. I twisted my legs upwards to regain strength and sit.

— It's like you became a corpse or something for a second. Completely snapped out of it.

— Loss of focus, I muttered.

He laid back a bit and crossed his arms, in a sign he didn't believe me. I got back on my feet eventually, still grasping at my upper arm.

— Look, girl, he beggined. You're maybe still having complications with the transformation, you might wanna rest up, what'd ya say?

I darted at him with an angry stare.

— Don't take it the wrong way, but you will never be as good as us, witchers. You survived the mutation by pure luck. Let's face it, we are in another league, he stated. That's reality, sweetheart, he finally said before turning his back on me, heading towards the path that led back to the keep.

I swung out the dagger I had on me and rushed up to him, jumped and locked it against his throat. He stumbled back and almost lost balance. He gasped, turning his head to the side. He was completely alarmed, convulsing for air. I stared deep into his soul with averting and hostile eyes.

— Repeat that.

He lifted one arm in a sign of defeat and distress. When I tried opening my mouth again, the shout of a man resonated.

— Y/N! LAMBERT! ENOUGH! Vesemir ordered.

I hissed angrily before letting him go and walking away from him, heading down the hill. Vesemir eyed me, with a disapproving look, as our shoulders brushed when I passed by him. I agilely walked the slippery rock trail before arriving to the fortress, without looking back. I made my way inside the yard, stray swords and multiple intertwining footsteps filling the white ground. I huffed and entered, pushing the huge and heavy doors. The other witchers were all sitting down at the tables, drinking ale and guffawing. They all turned to me, expecting a kind salutation like I always do. I passed by without even glimpsing at them, as I grabbed a piece of leftover bread from the dining table. I then continued my way to the experiment room. The sound of my boots echoed in the halls. I arrived and tossed my equipment on a table, undressing from the blood covered leather clothings. Rage filled my body, my teeth clenched and my nails dug into my palms. I was all tensed up, ready to explode. I went to the nearest wall and punched it, uttering my anger in a long and agonizing cry. My hand went through the solid rock, as if it was some insignificant buttery substance. The bricks fell, shattered to the ground. I gasped, looking at the mess I made with a single hit. I examined my hand, scrutinizing it from every angle, eyes wide open in confusion. My hand was okay, not even a scratch. I swiped off the dust from my pants and boots, as I heard rushing footsteps. Vesemir entered the room, then froze at the sight of the broken wall. He sighed and approached, placing a hand on my shoulder.