The portal dropped Adam into the heart of Novigrad, right outside a grand villa draped in banners. Lanterns glowed, nobles in extravagant gowns and masks bustled about, and the sound of violins filled the night.
Adam adjusted his coat, coffee steaming in hand. Environment… pretentious. Guests… oblivious. Chaos… inevitable.
At the entrance, Geralt appeared, begrudgingly stuffed into a doublet. His scarred face made him look like a wolf in noble clothing.
"Of course you're here," Geralt muttered. "Yen wanted me to come. Figures you'd tag along."
"Yennefer of Vengerberg," Adam mused. "Powerful. Sharp. Dangerous. Perfect."
Inside, chandeliers sparkled, servants balanced trays of wine, and laughter mingled with music. Adam scanned the hall. Objects… plentiful. Structures… fragile. Entertainment… imminent.
Then, like twin storms, they appeared: Yennefer, hair black as raven wings, violet eyes burning with calculation, her gown shimmering like midnight silk. Triss followed, fiery hair cascading over emerald velvet, her smile warm but wary.
Both froze when they spotted Adam.
"Geralt," Yennefer said, her voice cool as ice. "You didn't tell me you were bringing… this."
Adam bowed dramatically. "Adam Thompson. Vanguard. Performer. Chaos incarnate."
Triss tilted her head, curious. "Chaos incarnate?"
"Correct."
---
The evening began smoothly enough. Nobles gossiped, musicians played, and servants circulated. But Adam's presence was like a match in a powder keg.
At the buffet, he studied a precarious pyramid of grapes stacked on a silver platter. Physics… delicate. Potential… maximum.
He tapped the base. The entire pyramid collapsed, rolling across the marble floor. Nobles slipped left and right, tumbling like pins in a bowling alley. A countess screeched as her wig flew off, landing in a soup tureen.
Yennefer pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is why I hate parties."
Triss giggled despite herself. "I… think I kind of like him."
---
On the dance floor, masked couples twirled gracefully. Adam joined without invitation, spinning in absurdly exaggerated arcs. His coat flared, nearly smacking a duke in the face.
He leapt into the air, landed in a split, and slid dramatically across the floor, scattering dancers like startled cats. The orchestra faltered, violins screeching to keep up with his unpredictable rhythm.
Geralt muttered, "That's not dancing. That's… whatever the hell he wants."
Yennefer's eyes narrowed. "He's impossible."
Triss hid a laugh behind her hand. "But effective. Look—everyone's watching him."
Indeed, nobles who moments ago whispered about politics now roared with laughter as Adam vaulted off a table, somersaulted over two duchesses, and landed perfectly on a servant's tray. He snatched a wine glass mid-spin, sipped, and bowed.
The hall erupted with applause.
Performance… flawless.
---
Suddenly, a group of Templar spies infiltrated the ball, swords hidden beneath cloaks. Their leader hissed, "Kill the sorceresses. Now."
Adam's eyes gleamed. Interruption… opportunity.
Before Geralt could draw steel, Adam vaulted across the room, kicking a table into two spies. Platters of pheasant and cheese exploded across the hall. Nobles screamed, servants dove for cover.
One spy lunged at Yennefer. Adam casually spun a chair into his stomach, sending him crashing into a fountain. Another swung at Triss; Adam clapped so hard the echo startled the man, making him stumble backward into a tray of custard pies.
Geralt decapitated one with clean precision, glaring at Adam. "We're supposed to end them, not humiliate them!"
Adam twirled midair, heel-kicking another spy into the chandelier rope. The chandelier swayed, snapped free, and dropped directly onto a group of attackers, trapping them in a tangle of crystals and velvet.
Yennefer flicked her wrist, blasting two unconscious with a surge of magic. She turned, eyes narrowing. "You fight without magic. Why?"
Adam sipped his coffee. "Optional."
Triss smiled. "You really don't need it, do you?"
"Correct."
---
The hall was in total chaos. Nobles crawled under tables, musicians fled, guards scrambled. Adam, however, stood calm at the center, coat immaculate, cup steaming.
Battle… comedic. Spies… neutralized. Audience… astonished.
One last spy staggered to his feet, sword trembling. Adam strolled forward, tapped the blade with a finger, and it clattered uselessly to the marble. He flicked the man's forehead, sending him collapsing into a punch bowl.
The nobles cheered wildly. To them, it wasn't a life-or-death attack—it was the finest entertainment of the century.
---
Later, in the quiet aftermath, the sorceresses cornered Adam.
Yennefer crossed her arms, violet eyes burning. "You humiliate enemies instead of destroying them. You mock decorum. You ruin any chance of subtlety."
Adam bowed slightly. "Correct."
Triss smirked. "I like him."
Geralt groaned. "Of course you do."
Yennefer's glare softened slightly, though her voice stayed sharp. "You're dangerous. But effective. For now."
Adam raised his cup, steam curling into the night. "Performance… mandatory."
Before more questions could come, the air shimmered. A familiar ripple of light appeared above the fountain—the next portal.
Geralt muttered, "Leaving already?"
Adam nodded. "Next stage."
Yennefer arched a brow. "Good. Take your chaos with you before you level the city."
Triss waved. "Come back if you ever want to ruin another ball."
Adam twirled his coat, stepped into the swirling light, and vanished, leaving behind a ballroom full of ruined food, destroyed furniture, humiliated spies, and nobles cheering his name.