For Nanomi, a succubus, tonight's battle had been an exhausting struggle.
Whether it was the infiltrating human combat squads or the monstrous beasts spawned from experiments, none of them were threats she could confront head-on and still make it out unscathed. So, after bringing Regis here, she had remained on the periphery of the battlefield, her priority being self-preservation.
But when Vilgefortz began clearing the field—slaughtering everything in sight—and especially when he turned his full fury toward Regis, Nanomi could no longer hold back.
Chaotic energy surged violently across her body. A veil of black mist, exuding a cloying sweetness, wrapped around her bare upper torso without the slightest concealment.
It was as if a spark had been thrown into a bowl of spice. That abstract essence known as allure suddenly became tangible, saturating the air around her.
Let this be said again: what a succubus unleashes is not some charm spell or mental manipulation targeting others. Rather, she amplifies her racial traits to the extreme—provoking the primal desires of other creatures through sheer physical presence.
It was a unification of all aesthetics and instinctual urges across species.
Unless one possessed a mind of extraordinary discipline or had endured countless temperings, this kind of 'critical hit' under the banner of seduction could bypass any physical or magical defense entirely.
In that moment, Vilgefortz's gaze was caught in Nanomi's snare. His hands unconsciously released the mangled remains of Regis and began to stride toward her.
Behind him, the troll family's massive bodies began to stir and rise from the ground. Regardless of their gender, all three giants suddenly found themselves brimming with power. Fueled by a flood of adrenaline, their bodies pushed past their limits, drawing out every last ounce of strength.
Nanomi had used a bit of magic on them.
While everyone else had fallen, she, who had lingered at the edge all along, was now ready to claim victory.
The three trolls' eyes glowed red, their gazes flickering between clarity and haze. One moment they seemed poised to attack Vilgefortz, the next they were stepping toward Nanomi instead.
Yes—regardless of gender, not even trolls could resist a succubus's seduction. And this temptation lacked the precision to distinguish friend from foe.
Nanomi cursed under her breath. She rarely engaged in such fine manipulation.
Just as she was preparing to adjust the spell influencing the trolls, Vilgefortz suddenly shuddered and snapped back to clarity—one step ahead of her.
He remembered what it was he was trying to do.
"Elder Blood!"
For some, the hunger for power far outweighs any craving for physical pleasure. Vilgefortz was one such man.
A surge of overwhelming psychic energy exploded outward from his body. The three lumbering trolls were hurled backward, crashing to the ground. Nanomi, lighter than a feather, was flung into the air like a discarded rag.
Vilgefortz gasped for breath, a trace of fear flickering in his heart.
"So close. That was too close... First the high vampire, then trolls and now a succubus—what the hell isn't in Brokilon?"
Even with all his preparation, he hadn't expected this ambush to be so dangerous. He hadn't even planned to come in person originally. And yet, despite everything, he had nearly fallen into the trap.
But the fear in his eyes quickly reignited into fervor.
"Could this be… another manifestation of the Elder Blood?"
Suddenly, everything made perfect sense again, and Vilgefortz was once more invigorated.
The chaotic energy around him flared to life, transforming into an unending barrage of elemental attacks aimed straight at Nanomi. It was clear the sorcerer had no intention of capturing her for experimentation—he meant to execute her on the spot.
Under such relentless assault, the succubus was quickly driven into a desperate retreat, her body battered and bloodied.
But then, her body began to glow with a vivid emerald light.
And it wasn't just her—each of the three rock trolls radiated the same brilliant glow. In the darkness, they shone like miniature suns… and in the next instant, all four of them vanished.
Vilgefortz froze.
"…Could this… also be the power of Elder Blood?"
...
Coën's eyes had narrowed to slits, but he could still sense the light.
It was Lann's Teleportation skill—but only the members of the 'Pride' were taken. He was left behind.
Lann doesn't know what happened here… He recalled his 'Pride' to fight for him—does that mean there's trouble on the Eastern Front? Damn it…
Wait… then Blackwind must have… Ciri?!
Coën struggled to get up, but his consciousness was growing fainter by the second.
His injuries were far too severe. The fact that he had even remained lucid up until now was already a result of resisting his body's natural shutdown for too long.
After one last attempt to rise, only to collapse again, he finally blacked out.
Vilgefortz stood his ground for a while, guarding against a potential ambush—but nothing came.
With one hand, he hoisted the unconscious witcher. With the other, he lifted half of what remained of the vampire. He even had the leisure to retrieve Coën's sword, which had been flung away during the battle.
Above him, the djinn in the sky had recovered its magic and resumed its rampage, wreaking havoc across the town.
Chaos energy lifted the sorcerer into the air, and he glided along the path that ran through the forest. There was no rush. The light in the darkness traveled far, and he had just seen a glimmer of that same emerald glow in the direction Ciri had fled.
Sure enough, it didn't take long before he spotted the Princess of Cintra lying on the ground—her steed nowhere to be found.
He glanced down at both hands, then tossed Coën's body aside and reached for Ciri.
"At last… Elder Blood!"
With a wave of his hand, a powerful surge of chaotic energy rippled outward from his body. He could hardly wait to return to his laboratory and carry out the process he had rehearsed countless times.
But just then—shhk!—Ciri's eyes snapped open.
Her sword thrust forward like a striking viper.
Yet the sorcerer had clearly anticipated this. He leaned back just in time to dodge the blade and swung the mangled remains of Regis in his left hand like a weapon, slamming them forward.
The blow sent Ciri flying. She hit the ground hard and curled into herself in pain.
Intent on making the princess suffer a little before the main event, Vilgefortz didn't notice that as Ciri was flung aside, a small booklet had slipped from her chest and landed on the ground.
It tumbled a few times before falling open in the wind.
Most of the entries in the front were filled with questions—a young witcher seeking advice from his mentor after encountering difficulties out in the world. Later entries shifted tone—more greetings to his elders, small talk, warm check-ins on their well-being.
Finally, the pages turned to the very last one. There, the handwriting changed—becoming lively and delicate, a stark contrast to the neat, almost engraved script of before.
It was a letter written by Ciri.
...
[Respected Master Keldar, Master Jerome, greetings to you both:
I am Ciri, Princess of Lann, and the Child of Surprise of Geralt of the Wolf School. I've heard many stories from Lann and Coën about your achievements, and I've long hoped to meet you both in person. Unfortunately, that chance never came...]
[I am Lann's princess. The land you'll use to rebuild your order—that's coming from me! And what's more, I'm also a witcher of the Wolf School. I'm one of your own! So whether it's out of duty or affection, you won't be able to say no to the request that follows, right?]
[I know Lann has always maintained steady contact with Master Jerome, and you've even agreed to come out of retirement when the time is right. But Lann always saw himself as the future of the Griffin School. Together with Coën, he vowed only to call on you after the order was restored—never before. No matter how dangerous the situation became, they refused to worry their elders. Only after the danger had passed would they report back with good news and omit the bad...]
[But I'm not bound by that agreement. I made up everything that comes after this! Only someone like me—an outsider—can say these things. So tell me, are you moved yet? Moved enough to come lend your students a hand?]
[Right now, Lann is caught deep in enemy territory. Our foes have summoned waves of Frighteners, chimeras, and mutated krabbs to assault our town. Coën stayed behind alone to defend it. They won't burden you with their fears, but I… I'm truly worried.]
[Fighting monsters—that's a witcher's duty, isn't it? And aren't you the least bit curious why Coën's notebook ended up in my hands? Doesn't that show how desperate things have become?]
[So please—]
[Help us!!!]
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