"It's them," Iris said, extending a pale hand and pointing toward Gray Owl's sneaky squad. She addressed the people behind her calmly.
Even in the chaos of this night, the soul in the painting exuded an ethereal elegance that seemed to exist apart from the world around her.
She had already been through several battles tonight, slaying monsters in various ways, yet not a single crease marred her pale gothic gown.
After all, she was a spirit.
Standing beside her, Milva watched the sneaky group move through the darkness with a grim expression. Her eyesight was sharp—she could still see clearly at long range even with only a faint sliver of light.
"The one leading them is a Nilfgaardian elite unit. Their goal is to capture Ciri. Over a hundred others are mercenaries, apparently hired by a sorcerer."
Iris shared the intelligence she'd gathered. She had already uncovered all the secrets of that squad.
"I'm sorry. Their team is equipped with a fair amount of silver and dimeritium. There also seem to be some mage-like professionals among them. I can't handle that many at once..."
After sharing the intel, Iris added this apology.
Given her stats and unique abilities, she could deal with airborne monsters capable of fighting entire battalions alone.
But against a well-prepared, hundred-strong squad? She had no choice but to avoid direct confrontation. All she could do now was pass on information and seek support from conventional forces like Milva's unit.
"You've already helped tremendously, Lady Iris. If a force like that were allowed to operate unchecked in the shadows of Brokilon, there's no telling how much damage they'd cause."
Milva drew the longbow from her back and gauged the distance. "Please go find House and Levin. I'll keep an eye on things here for now."
Iris nodded, then turned and vanished into the night as a streak of bright emerald flame.
In addition to the town's guerrilla force led by Coën, the other three members of the Lion Pride—Milva, House, and Levin—each commanded a unit of the city guard, tasked with defending Brokilon and protecting Ciri.
The fact that so many monsters had slipped into town undetected was already a humiliation. But now a Nilfgaardian unit had appeared as well—right here, in Cintra's northernmost rear stronghold.
Milva clenched her teeth and signaled with a series of hand gestures.
At once, the city guards behind her began silently encircling the Nilfgaardian team from the shadows.
She herself moved swiftly across rooftops, seeking high ground and cover in preparation for the battle to come.
"Damn it!"
Suddenly, Milva froze mid-step, cursing under her breath as she observed the Nilfgaardian squad's direction of movement.
It turned out that Gray Owl and his group had been teleported into an absolutely ideal location—hidden, secure, and, unfortunately, perfect for retreat.
Every Cintran who could wield a weapon had already mustered their courage to face the monstrous invaders at the front lines. But many children and women—along with some students from Oxenfurt—were being escorted by the city guards into Brokilon Forest, seeking temporary shelter among the dryads.
Not everyone had the courage of someone like Shani.
That evacuee group was just about to run directly into the Nilfgaardians.
There was no time to wait for House and Levin. This fight would have to happen now!
Milva took a deep breath and began to reposition. Her eyesight truly was remarkable—she immediately spotted several figures within the mercenary ranks whose attire marked them as anything but ordinary.
Without a word, she drew her longbow taut. The tension of the bowstring rang out like grinding teeth.
Her body moved with feline grace beneath the moonlight, as if a leopard were preparing to pounce.
[Whoosh—]
[Whoosh—]
[Whoosh—]
…
"Investigator!"
Psionic Kenna suddenly stopped and called out to the group.
Imperial coroner Gray Owl immediately raised a hand to halt the unit, his eyes narrowing as he turned to the woman—whose importance arguably outweighed the rest of the team combined.
"I'm picking up a strong wave of chaotic thoughts—just up ahead," Kenna said, frowning in concentration. "Women and children. Looks like retreating townsfolk... with around ten soldiers escorting them."
"Perfect. You said earlier that you need soldiers' minds to extract info about the Young Lion, right?"
A Nilfgaardian elf spoke up grimly.
Despite being an elf, he served in the Nilfgaardian military and held the rank of scout. That may have explained his particular cruelty toward the enemy—though whether it stemmed from hatred of Nilfgaard's foes or simply because they were human was unclear.
Either way, he didn't get along with the rest of the team.
"Our presence must remain hidden. We'll circle around and kill all the women and children. Try to capture as many of the soldiers alive as possible. Then you dig what we need from their minds. How does that sound?"
The murderous words made Kenna frown. She glanced around, but everyone else in the group was nodding in agreement with the elven scout's suggestion.
"An excellent proposal," Gray Owl said in a low voice, pointing toward the elf. "Then you will—"
[Whoosh—]
[Whoosh—]
[Whoosh—]
Before he could finish the sentence, an arrow suddenly appeared in the elf scout's head. The immense force of the shot twisted his handsome elven face to the side, snapping his neck as blood sprayed in an arc.
Thud. He collapsed to the ground.
Then, more thuds followed in quick succession as other bodies dropped around him.
"Ambush! Archers!" someone shouted.
There was no time to hide their position anymore. Gray Owl roared the warning and dove into the crowd like a madman. The shield-bearing mercenaries hastily raised their shields toward the direction of the arrows—but they couldn't locate the shooter.
[Whoosh—]
[Whoosh—]
[Whoosh—]
Arrows rained down like a storm, each one claiming a life.
"Kenna! Where are they? How many?!"
The psionic was drenched in sweat. "I... I can't sense anything! That archer is far—farther than any normal shooter... Wait—more people are coming!"
…
Milva's ambush had officially ignited the battle. Her city guards now charged at the Nilfgaardians.
Archers were precious—most had already been sent to the front lines. Milva was the only archer in this unit. However, among the mercenaries were several skilled bowmen and crossbowmen. Upon seeing the charge, they quickly reoriented their aim.
Casualties among the guards were already beginning before they even reached the enemy lines.
That couldn't happen.
Milva drew in a deep breath.
Then narrowed her eyes. "Alright then—bring it on."
She suddenly burst from cover, fully exposing herself to the Nilfgaardians' view. Standing tall, she raised her bow into position, her posture straight and commanding—like a marble statue.
A statue of an Amazon warrior, bow drawn in hand.
[Whoosh—]
Milva released her first arrow.
One of the mercenary archers was sent flying backward, slamming into a wall behind him. A flower-shaped splatter of blood burst from the point of impact, like a crimson octopus.
[Whoosh—]
The second archer collapsed like a lifeless dummy, his blood and brain matter spraying onto his nearby companion.
[Whoosh—]
A third figure—this one appearing to be a half-elf crossbowman—fell from a hard-won vantage point, slamming onto the cold stone ground with a crack.
[Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.]
"There! We found their archer!" a sharp-eyed mercenary yelled. "Praise the Great Sun, it's just one person! And a wom—"
His sentence was cut off as an arrow embedded itself in his throat, sealing the rest of his words forever.
Several more archers turned to fire at Milva. But she was standing far beyond their range—well past the reach of ordinary archers. Their arrows rained down like hail, pelting the walls near her, sending plaster and dust falling in clumps.
Milva didn't even flinch.
She was untouchable.
...
"Black Wind, can you find Coën and the others?"
"Snort—"
"Lann once told me, 'An old horse knows the way home.' You're not old, but I think you can recognize the way, right? If you can recognize the way, you should be able to recognize people too, no?"
"Snort—"
"No? Didn't you undergo the Witcher mutations? Geralt and the others have incredible tracking skills."
"Snort."
"Lann only just became a Witcher and he can do everything… Sigh, you can't track, and you don't know any Signs either. Black Wind, what exactly did you gain from the Witcher mutations?"
"Neighhh!!!"
"Hey, hey, don't be mad! Don't run into the forest!"
The silver-haired little princess barely managed to calm her warhorse and let out a long sigh of relief.
Ensuring her own basic safety first, Ciri hoped all available strength could be devoted to defending the town.
That's why she refused protection from the guerrilla squad, ordering these carefully selected warriors to spread out and assist the others in fighting the monsters.
Now, she was riding alone through the town of Brokilon. But she had full confidence in herself: First, Ciri was sure that Black Wind was stronger and faster than most people—possibly even Witchers—making him the best bodyguard. Second, as long as she remained within the town of Brokilon, she could summon overwhelming power at any time, because—
With a whoosh, a poster pinned to the wall suddenly ignited in a blaze of emerald flame, and Iris emerged from it, her expression unusually urgent.
She lifted her black veil, revealing a strikingly beautiful face. "Ciri, why are you still here? You were supposed to be the first to retreat… Let me find Nanomi or Regis to come protect you. This area is extremely dangerous right now!"
Ciri gave her a reassuring smile. "Iris, I can't leave. Listen to me—"
[Boom!]
A collapsing wall suddenly interrupted Ciri mid-sentence.
The two turned to look and saw a massive figure curled up like a boulder. It was just barely recognizable as the smallest of the three trolls—their daughter.
In front of her, a massive mutant Koshchey was thrashing in a frenzy of near-death rage.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---