Published at 13th of February 2024 4:02 am

Chapter 632: Clash

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Tor Lara. Gull’s Tower. The building stood at the highest sea level on Thanedd. It was a place left by the elves many years ago. After the meeting came to an end, the witchers gathered in the clearing before the building, surrounding a xenovox that was gleaming blue.

“Enid, I can understand why you wish to keep the children away from war and death, but do not betray Emhyr. You shouldn’t have agreed to assist these people in the fight against Aen Elle.” On the other side of the xenovox was a red-haired sorceress in a cave. She was draped in beautiful clothes and ornaments. She shook her head, the amber and pearl necklaces before her chest swaying with her, and they glinted.

“Ida Emean, Aen Saevherne of the Blue Mountains, I have always respected your opinion. Elaborate,” said Francesca.

“An army of more than a hundred higher vampires and two dozen witchers is enough to shake the whole world. If you wish to, you can protect Aen Seidhe from the furious Emhyr and even take over Dol Blathanna.” Isa stroked the cat sitting on her lap, scanning the witchers before the screen. “But you can never hope to fight the Wild Hunt.”

The black cat swayed its tail and mewed, agreeing with its master.

“That’s just a scare tactic.” Ivar crossed his arms and shook his head. “For hundreds of years, the Viper School has clashed with the Wild Hunt plenty of times. I know their power. They’re about on our level, speaking from each individual knight, and they do not have the numbers advantage. The witcher schools from before are not the same as they are now. We have weapons, equipment, and alchemy items far more potent than what we used to have.”

“The Wild Hunt you fought was nothing but phantoms and projections that could barely make it through the teleportation to this world,” said Ida calmly. “They were only at half strength compared to their full selves, and this time, you will be facing the Wild Hunt at its full strength. And you know the Wild Hunt mastered magic thousands of years before humanity did. They have explored and developed the skills to control chaos energy. Just from magical potency alone, the sorcerer brotherhood’s strength is akin to a toddler’s, but that’s not the scariest part.”

Ida crouched and let her cat go. She then looked at the sea of bats fluttering behind the witchers. “They possess forbidden powers this world will not tolerate. No one can escape it once they cast it fully. Not even the higher vampires. Not even dragons.”

“You’re talking about the White Frost?” Roy cocked his eyebrow.

“The fact that you know of the ultimate disaster means you know it cannot be fought.” The elven sage straightened out the hair around her neck. “Instead of giving you the waypoint and having you die in futility, I will contact the Aen Saevherne of the Wild Hunt, Avallac’h, and act as a mediator. We can talk in peace. Enid and I will try our best to resolve the grudges and differences you have.”

The elven queen gave Roy a look. The witcher shook his head, smiling. He then gazed at Ida. “Can you convince the Wild Hunt to give up their pursuit for the Elder Blood?”

“That is impossible!” As if pricked, Ida shrilly said, “Unless the ambitious general of the Wild Hunt, Eredin, perishes, they will stop at nothing to revive the glory days of old. Can’t you swap that out for another request?”

“Can you get the Wild Hunt to grovel and apologize to my school, then?” A gaunt man with a long face huddled closer to the xenovox. Ivar’s pupils were nothing but slits. With hatred in his voice, he hissed, “These bastards that fly around like jackdaws cawing incessantly must pay the price for taking and brainwashing witchers of the Viper School. For the people they stole from this world. For the fear and disaster they spread. I bade farewell to my old friends and gave up my chance at a perfect world just to teach those sons of batches a lesson myself.”

Letho, Auckes, and Serrit stood behind Ivar quietly.

“Taking down the Wild Hunt is our life’s dream.”

Ida heaved a sigh, resignation flaring in her eyes. “I am sorry, Enid. Sorry, everyone. I hate hassles. This is out of my hands now. All I say is good luck. And one last thing. The Elder Blood…”

The screen glitched and turned unstable. Ida’s message screeched to a halt, and the screen disappeared into thin air. Chaos energy shook violently, and the witchers’ medallions shuddered.

Lighting tore through the sunny skies, and winds howled, stirring waves on the sea’s surface. Everyone saw a blur, and a slender silhouette fell from the skies, falling into Roy’s arms. Ciri looked up, her face covered in tears. Within her blue hunting gear, a petite head rested. Her hair was drenched by rainwater, and she looked like a dirty little cat. The girl grinned at Roy.

“Ciri? Eileni? What happened? Why’d you come here all of a sudden?”

“Roy, Geralt, Yennefer.” Ciri sobbed. “They’re here. They killed my poor guard!”

“Slow down, child.” Yennefer’s violet hair billowed. She wiped the tears off Ciri’s cheeks and took the gurgling Eileni from her shirt, then she handed the girl to Roy. “We’re all here. No one can hurt you.”

“But they came. The skeletal knights.”

“You mean the Wild Hunt? They killed Cahir?” Roy’s heart sank. That noble knight failed to escape death?

“Yes, the Wild Hunt is here.”

“People, I put my faith in the sage. We cannot fight the Wild Hunt.” Francesca clasped her hands before her belly. Pleading, she said, “We must return to the Blue Mountains and plan for the incoming enemy.”

“Blood calls for blood!” Ivar turned his eyes to the skies. “And it’s too late to leave anyway. They’re here.”

***

Lightning arced through the skies. Tor Lara and Garstang were illuminated by the blinding light. The exhausted sorcerers in the palace had their attention caught by the bizarre event. A span of ribbon appeared in the area between the sky and sea, wriggling like a snake. Unease and fear spread through the air. The sea of bats behind Roy were getting restless, and eerie singing coursed through the air.

A string of will-o’-the-wisps appeared. They were the burning hooves of steeds, and upon the steeds were knights in black, heavy armor, sinister as ghosts.

“The Wild Hunt!” Gerhart said. He was in Garstang. “Be careful, everyone.”

“Those bastards never came to Aretuza before, so why now?” Philippa shivered. “Dawn has just arisen. They can’t be spreading nightmares now.”

“This is an omen. The second war will be a terrible disaster,” said Sigismund, unnerved.

“No. Look at where they’re going. The Wild Hunt is after the witchers at Tor Lara.” Adda turned around, telling the knight before her, “The witchers assisted Temeria in the apprehension of our traitors. They should not fight alone. Aid them.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Grimm took a deep breath. His face was convulsing from excitement. The Wild Hunt was a thing of legend. They spread disaster and war. They would be the perfect whetstone for his blade.

“The witchers have their higher vampire allies, don’t they? We’re insignificant, so we might as well just watch the show.”

The sorcerer, held captive and having gone through the night in fear, had nothing but mockery for the witchers. They wouldn’t get back at the monster hunters, but they were happy not to lend a hand.

“I do not like how they trampled on our dignity either, but they averted the brotherhood’s disbandment. They did us a great favor.” Tissaia was terse. She gritted her teeth. “And the Wild Hunt is the most evil entity in this world. We cannot allow them to ruin our sacred land of magic. Volunteers, come with me.”

***

Lightning bolts flashed through the skies. About twenty knights stampeded through the air and landed firmly on the peak, staring at the witchers a distance away from them. Beastly eyes met the icy gaze under the skeletal masks. Gales howled, and tension rose.

Ivar quickly uncorked his decoctions and downed three bottles at once. Black veins popped throughout his face. Letho and Auckes did the same, but everyone else, including a dazed Francesca, looked at Roy.

Roy frowned. The Wild Hunt appeared all of a sudden after their long disappearance, and it messed up his plans. He raised his hand, and the sea of bats rose over everyone’s head, swirling around, screeching. It was like a sea of dark clouds with crimson lightning swimming within.

The Wild Hunt responded in kind. Someone whistled and roared. The Red Riders slowly approached the witchers. In the lead was a small giant wearing a horned helmet and skeletal mask. He was riding on a dark-brown stallion that resembled an earth dragon. The metallic horse blanket was embroidered with the patterns of golden scales. Underneath the metal armor shaped like a ribcage was another layer of black scaly armor. The jagged ring on the knight’s shoulders extended high up into the air, and on the knight’s buckle, a gorgeous two-handed sword extended so far down, it was almost touching the ground. The source of this content ɪs Noᴠelꜰɪre.nᴇt

‘Eredin Breacc Glas

Status: Commander of the Red Riders, Child of the Elder Blood

HP: 300

Mana: 200

Strength: 33

Dexterity: 33

Constitution: 35

Perception: 15

Will: 13

Charisma: 10

Spirit: 20

Skills:

Greatsword Mastery Level 10: Eredin is a grandmaster in swordsmanship.

Elder Blood (Fake): In the process of researching the gate with Avallac’h, Eredin used the research’s results to steal a portion of the Elder Blood. He is able to teleport on a small-scale within a limited time.

Glory of the Red Riders: When Eredin battles along with his Wild Hunt soldiers, he receives an increment of 30% to his stats at most.

White Frost (Passive): Over the long battle with the White Frost, Eredin’s body was subtly changed. He can, to an extent, harness the White Frost to attack his enemies. Any enemy that’s within a certain distance to him will be eaten away by the power of the White Frost. Their speed and reaction will be slowed until they are fully frozen. He can also use this power at will to freeze his targets down to their soul, destroying their life force.

…’

***

“Vatt’ghern! (Put down your weapons, witchers!)” Eredin raised his hands and took off his skeletal mask, revealing a pale, sculpted elven face. He turned to the girl glaring at him from Yennefer’s embrace. “Quezireael! (Hand over the swallow, and I shall spare your lives!)”

The imperious, arrogant, pompous tone lit the fury within the witchers’ hearts. You killed Cahir and demand to take Ciri away from us?

Murder flared from their eyes. Come then! To your death!

Roy waved his hand, and a sea of bats swarmed the knights like a black storm.

***

***

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