The situation in town was worse than Ciri had imagined. Just as Coën had said—each of these monsters alone could raze a city to the ground.
Now gathered together, they could turn a small country into a bloodbath.
But in some ways, the town wasn't as helpless as it appeared. Though named a 'town', Brokilon had been painstakingly fortified by the elder druids and Cintran settlers—making it stronger than most war fortresses in the Northern Kingdoms.
Its defenses were unmatched: sturdy architecture, towers, arrow slits, defensible walls, and underground shelters all throughout.
Moreover, its current defenders were far from ordinary. Their will to fight was anything but fragile—
...
"Giant Trolls, protect... home!"
With a thunderous crash, three massive boulders came hurtling through the air, slamming into a monstrous mantis the height of a three-story building. The impact left a stunning web of cracks across its dull green carapace.
"Skreeee—!" the mantis shrieked in pain. Its bladed forelimbs—razor-sharp like sideswords—lashed out in retaliation, slicing into the curled-up form of one of the trolls. But all it managed to shear off was a thick cloud of dust. The blow didn't even pierce the rock-like hide, and one of its scythe-like edges nearly snapped from the recoil.
This was a Giant Mantis—known as The Frightener in monster bestiaries due to the fear it inspired.
No one really understood why monster researchers were so obsessed with enlarging insects. The Frightener was one such 'successful' product of this twisted ambition. Designed by Alzur and later refined by stationed alchemists at Kaer Morhen, it was a triumph of experimentation. After the first specimen was created, the horrified alchemist destroyed all undeveloped embryos, believing he had created a plague for the Continent.
And he was right. His notes eventually leaked, enabling others to recreate the monstrosity. The devastation it wrought far outstripped that of any creature born of the Conjunction of the Spheres or native beast. Even apex predators like wyverns were reduced to mere prey before it.
Incidentally, the alchemist also discovered that the mantis's eyes had potential for Witcher mutagenic trials. Sadly, no Witcher since had managed to hunt one down solo. Eyes of the Frightener had become a legendary, near-mythical mutagenic reagent.
Lann's mutation, however, had used one—thanks to the painstaking efforts of Thomas Moreau and the mad genius of Master Jerome.
...
Even such a powerful monster struggled against the swarm of rock trolls. The mantis's slashing attacks were all but nullified by the trolls' stone-like shells—designed perfectly to counter precisely this kind of blade-based assault.
But that towering, two-story frame wasn't just for show. Enraged after failing to break through the trolls' defense, the mantis suddenly twisted its body and swatted the troll family away like a baseball. They were sent flying, crashing into a building and smashing it to rubble.
Stone hides may deflect blades—but not raw impact. The trolls disappeared into the dust cloud and didn't rise for some time. Most likely, they were knocked unconscious.
Still, their sacrifice had bought others a chance.
"Warriors of the Tordarroch Clan! Show these desert beasts what men of the sea are made of!" cried Yoana, the blonde iron-maiden, clad in steel as she stood atop the ramparts, rallying the islanders to fire volley after volley of arrows at the cracks in the mantis's armor.
Officially, Tordarroch Clan served a logistical role in Cintra—but islanders were practically born soldiers, and blacksmithing was a profession of brute strength.
Frankly, these 'rear guard' islanders were tougher than many frontline troops.
The mantis advanced under the hail of arrows, but more islanders rushed forward, hoisting tower shields originally intended for Mahakam heavy infantry to shield their comrades.
Their coordination—flawless, almost instinctive—allowed them to hold the line and repel the monster's assault.
And they weren't the only ones.
Not a single Cintran fled the battlefield. City guards, artisans, even displaced civilians—anyone with the strength to lift a weapon, even if just a stone—threw what they could at the monsters.
The sheer morale, bold to the point of madness, even left Yoana speechless.
Among them, the most unhinged were a group calling themselves the Order of the Lion, who had painted three claw marks onto their clothes. During Yoana's stay in Brokilon, they'd been the most orderly and civil of the bunch—always volunteering to help the guard, organize refugees, and share rations.
But now, in the face of danger, those gentle faces had twisted into masks of wrath and rage.
"For the Lion!!"
Yoana could only gape in shock.
They weren't even wearing armor—or carrying weapons—and yet they charged straight at the monsters without hesitation.
She snatched a wild-eyed young girl who was about to charge straight at the monster, stopping her from getting herself killed. Feeling resistance, the girl—who couldn't have been more than sixteen—fiercely tried to twist back and bite Yoana.
"Skelligers, don't stop me from fighting for the Lion!"
Her name was Fens. She had been the first person rescued by Lann after his mutation, and the first to spread the name of the Lion.
"Are you all insane?!" Yoana bellowed in her native island accent. "Rushing in like that is no different from suicide! Don't you realize you could be more useful doing something else?!"
She pointed at a nearby student tending to the wounded. "Take those doctors from Oxenfurt and get them to the forest! They'll be a greater help to Lann later—they're valuable!"
The Skelligers could shout even louder than Cintrans. Fens paused, looking toward the red-haired girl beside her.
"I'm not leaving either! I'm a field medic!" Shani shouted back. "This is exactly where I'm supposed to be!"
Emboldened by her words, Fens raised both arms high again. "For the Lion!!"
Yoana: "..."
Ancestors preserve me—these Cintrans are even crazier than we islanders!
Gritting her teeth, Yoana watched as Fens rallied another group of the so-called Order of the Lion. Thankfully, her words had gotten through to them at least a little—these fanatics now ran off to find weapons first, rather than charging in unarmed and creating chaos for the front lines.
Still, they looked ready to die for the Lion at any moment.
"Even refugees with no weapons are going to the battlefield—is it because we've failed to protect them? Bring out the bed-mounted ballistas! And the war wagons and battering rams too!" Yoana turned and roared. "Let's give these monsters something they'll remember! Where's the Witcher?! Isn't Coën still in Brokilon? Someone tell me these things' weaknesses!"
...
Coën was climbing.
He flew up the ladder toward the massive bell at the top of the clocktower.
The Frighteners were highly sensitive to loud noise—such sounds could temporarily deafen them and disable their defensive reflexes.
The same applied to the Mutant Crabhorrors. These artificially engineered insects shared similar weaknesses.
Upon reaching the top, Coën channeled a blast of telekinetic energy—powerful enough to rival a battering ram—into his left hand, then hurled it directly at the great bell before him.
[Aard Sign]!
[BOOOONG—]
A deafening chime, louder than anything the bell had ever produced, rang out across all of Brokilon like a herald of dawn.
The results were visible. The pace of destruction throughout the town abruptly slowed. To the astonishment of the warriors fighting the bug-like monsters, they saw their foes suddenly freeze up, curl inward, or even start convulsing—completely incapable of resisting attacks.
One fighter caught sight of Coën's silhouette against the moonlight and immediately shouted, "It's Coën! The Witcher Knight from the Griffin School, just like Duke Lannister!"
Veteran fighters wasted no time. They seized the opportunity, slashing, hacking, smashing, and firing bolts into the now-defenseless monsters—drawing hoarse, chaotic shrieks from the creatures.
And once again, the bell's resonance drowned out those cries.
[BOOOONG—]
Coën smiled in satisfaction.
But it didn't last long. The very next moment, his expression turned grim again.
Among the creatures he'd seen earlier weren't just insectoid monsters—there were even more formidable Chimeras. The bell had rendered the bugs temporarily helpless, but it had also drawn the attention of those far more dangerous abominations.
A beast came soaring at him from the night sky—antlered, its back and neck covered in a mane, its entire body clad in red carapace and scales, wings flared wide as it dove toward the tower.
If Frighteners and Mutant Crabhorrors still resembled real animals, then this Chimera—fused from at least four different creatures—was a grotesque war machine, plain and simple.
Coën drew his silver sword and took a stance, ready to engage—but then he noticed even more Chimeras emerging from the darkness.
The bell had been too loud. He was now like blood in the water, surrounded by sharks.
No time for words. He fired one last airburst Aard Sign at the bell—then turned, preparing to jump from the tower.
But to his surprise, he found the clocktower now completely surrounded by a swirling mass of crows.
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