It was three in the morning, a time that should have been peaceful and still, yet no one slept that night. All of Flotsam remained awake.
In the fortress courtyard, after several men sent inside to investigate disappeared without a trace, Bernard Loredo stopped ordering anyone into the building. Instead, he lit a signal fire to summon reinforcements and waited for more soldiers to assemble.
The steady spring rain could not extinguish his anger or fear. Something extraordinary was happening tonight. While gathering his forces, he had discovered that many of his men were missing and that several crucial components of the ballista had been destroyed. He had smuggled that devastating weapon into Flotsam to blockade the river and defend the town against attacks.
Geralt had already been sighted inside another building used to receive guests, and dozens of men were currently searching for and surrounding the witcher.
Then how many enemies were hiding inside the pleasure house, where so many men had died without making a sound?
Loredo secretly congratulated himself for being cautious. He had noticed the bloodstains as soon as he entered, quieted his steps, and inspected the second floor first. Otherwise, the consequences would have been impossible to predict.
Why would this damned rain not stop?
Without it, he could simply fire flaming arrows and burn the entire building to ashes!
At that moment, an armed soldier approached the commandant and stammered, "I... I... I want to re... report for..."
Loredo pointed into the distance.
"Clover, g-g-g-get out of my sight!"
Unlike usual, he was in no mood to amuse himself by mocking the man.
"Take several men and help search for the witcher. Master Geralt has an appointment with the gallows. If he cannot attend, I may hang you in his place!"
Upon hearing the commandant's order, Clover hurriedly called over several familiar companions and left with them.
After driving away the annoying fly, Loredo turned back toward the entrance with a hateful expression, just in time to see the door of the pleasure house swing open.
...
Illuminated by the torches, a man wearing an iron mask emerged from the building.
The noisy, chaotic soldiers immediately quieted. A common target had appeared for them to direct their anger toward, and they raised and aimed their loaded crossbows.
The Iron Mask wore magnificent heavy armor, and his crimson mutated pupils were unmistakable.
Ignoring the threat posed by the soldiers' weapons, he stopped twenty paces away and confronted the garrison commandant.
A bald, bucktoothed villain, Dmitri, approached Loredo and whispered several words into his ear.
The commandant sneered.
"So it's you, the Scoia'tael's obedient dog, a filthy, lowborn mutant freak. Victor the Traitor!"
Victor had not expected to be recognized so easily, but he casually removed his iron mask.
On his way here, he had been drinking potions as though they cost nothing. Several different concoctions were now circulating through his body, and they still needed a little time to reach their full effect.
There was no harm in exchanging words to delay matters.
"Listen carefully, all of you! Bernard Loredo's intention to defect to Kaedwen has been confirmed. He is now a traitor to Temeria and has been stripped of his position as commandant. Arrest him immediately, and you will be richly rewarded!"
The hundred or so armed men shifted uneasily, but the disturbance quickly subsided.
After all, promises of future rewards were distant and uncertain, while the commandant paid them extremely well right now.
"See?" Loredo spread his hands. "It's useless. Listen, Victor, don't you witchers only care about money?
"Loyalty only lasts until betrayal pays enough. Remember where you are. This is Flotsam, the crossroads of countless northern trade routes. Surrender immediately and tell me who sent you, and I will offer you a price beyond anything you can imagine.
"We can begin this bloody and solemn performance right now, or... we can reach a mutual understanding."
As Loredo spoke those final words, he noticed something surprising.
Strange markings were spreading across the witcher's face, already covering more than half of it.
"No. There will be no understanding. A bloody and solemn ending suits us much better."
Crimson patterns spread around Victor's eyes. The burning toxic reaction across his face meant that the potions had finally reached full effect.
He leveled the King's Guardian at Loredo.
"I am Victor Corion. Since arriving in this land, I have killed countless people outside the law. I have indulged in drinking, feasting, whoring, and gambling. Recently, I was even accused of conspiring with the Scoia'tael and had a bounty placed upon my head...
"But even someone like me understands what true evil is.
"True evil is someone who tramples the weak beneath his feet merely to satisfy his own desires.
"Bernard Loredo, you disgust me. I want you dead! This matters to me, and not even Melitele can save you tonight!"
Hearing Victor's judgment clearly from beside the window, Ves felt her heart pounding violently.
"One against a hundred... This bastard isn't joking!"
Loredo rubbed his chin.
"Hahahaha! Are you serious? There are more than a hundred fully armed men behind me. Who gave you the courage to challenge me? I know you mutant freaks can perform a few simple tricks, but we also possess dimeritium weapons. What could you possibly use against me?"
"Allow me to teach you the final lesson of your life. Never draw your sword against a fully armed witcher. And an alchemist who spares no expense is even more dangerous than a witcher!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Victor used his left foot as a pivot and stepped forward with his right. His center of gravity flowed smoothly from one leg to the other, and his left arm moved like that of a man hurling a javelin.
Enchanted Grapeshot flew directly toward Loredo.
School of the Wolf Secret Art, Exploding Sword!
An earthshaking explosion erupted outside the window, followed by a continuous series of thunderous blasts.
Every detonation represented a Grapeshot worth twenty crowns, generously distributed without the slightest concern for cost.
A wise man once said that few problems could withstand a sufficiently large explosion. Even when explosives could not solve the problem itself, they could still solve the person causing it.
Mr. Nobel would have approved, and Victor agreed with him.
The chaotic battle began!
...
Signal smoke rose into the sky, and alarm bells clanged repeatedly.
The residents living near the fortress awakened one after another. The atmosphere in the town had already been tense after the riots during the day. Now that something had happened at the commandant's residence, the symbol of Flotsam's authority, anxious unrest quickly began spreading beneath the surface.
On a rise not far from the fortress, Roche waited for an opportunity with a grim expression.
The explosions constantly erupting from the residence almost certainly meant that the covert operation had completely failed. Anyone capable of sleeping through that noise would have needed to be deaf.
Ves and Geralt's situations remained unknown, but such an enormous disturbance also created an opportunity to exploit the confusion.
The timing of the attack would have to be exact. Otherwise, rather than producing the intended result, Roche's own men would suffer losses.
...
The first round of the one-against-a-hundred battle ended.
...
Victor hid in a dark corner and caught his breath.
An arrow had struck his arm, slipping through a gap in the armor and wounding him. The crossbow bolts that had struck the other parts of his body had naturally accomplished nothing.
Fortunately, the armor had still slowed this arrow slightly, so it had not penetrated deeply.
After pulling it free and applying ointment, the wound soon closed and stopped bleeding.
Victor gulped down a vitality broth to restore some of his stamina, then silently spat out a mouthful of congested blood.
The internal injury had been caused by a man who struck his back with a heavy hammer.
That fortunate fellow had not benefited much from the exchange. Victor had spun around and sliced away half of his head.
Reflecting upon the first round of chaotic fighting, Victor realized that his fellow witcher Eskel's warning had been entirely correct.
Even a disorderly band of third-rate soldiers was still an army, and no army was ever easy to confront.
The first Enchanted Grapeshot, imbued with magic by Síle, had killed more than ten men instantly. Unfortunately, it had failed to kill Loredo.
With their leader still alive, the enemy forces had quickly stabilized, raising shields or using their weapons to defend themselves.
Once they discovered that the bombs following the first lacked its destructive power, Victor had naturally become the target of attacks from every direction.
The courtyard was open, well ventilated, and drenched by rain.
The open air and wind rendered Devil's Puffball nearly useless, while the rain also severely weakened Dancing Star. Victor was fortunate if one bomb managed to inflict serious burns on a single unlucky man.
Fortunately, when he first became surrounded, none of the soldiers closest to him were wielding antimagic weapons.
Activating Quen to protect himself and using Aard to clear the way, the witcher had forcibly carved a path through the enemy and escaped the encirclement.
...
In conclusion, the facts had proven that a direct assault would not work.
However, round two had only just begun.
"He's here! Over here!"
The furious shouting that interrupted Victor's reflection came from a fortunate man carrying a sword and shield. With the illumination provided by his companion's torch, he had clearly spotted Victor's silhouette in the shadows.
Naturally, such a fortunate man deserved fortunate treatment.
Victor assumed an overhead guard and raised the King's Guardian with both hands before bringing it down in a devastating strike.
The soldier raised his shield.
Clang!
With a deafening impact, the shield blocked the King's Guardian.
At the same moment, Terrifying Overlord activated.
The impact sent numbing pain through the soldier's entire left arm, causing it to fall limply at his side. He could only watch helplessly as the witcher reversed his steel sword and cut halfway through his neck.
Blood erupted from the severed artery.
Victor owed his thanks to the Old Man for the epic Void trait, Terrifying Overlord.
When striking a target while in an impassioned state, it added blunt-force damage proportional to the power of the slash.
In other words, the King's Guardian in Victor's hands appeared to be a sword, but when he delivered a two-handed overhead blow, it functioned almost like an iron club.
This made it exceptionally effective at breaking through defenses.
The torchbearer beside the shieldman could scarcely believe what he had witnessed.
After a single exchange, the sword-and-shield fighter who normally shouted orders at him was dead.
He panicked and failed to react in time.
Victor's left fist smashed heavily into his face.
While the man was still reeling in dizziness, the King's Guardian pierced through his lower jaw and entered his skull.
Sensing other villains moving to surround him from every direction, Victor quickly vanished back into the darkness.
There was still a long time before dawn.
...
Leaves rustled in the forest outside Flotsam.
Warned by some instinct, Iorveth abruptly opened his eyes during his brief prebattle rest. He grabbed his sword and rushed out.
Lansi had just reached the front of the tent. Upon seeing her commander emerge, she hurried after him and followed him all the way to the section of wall they had inspected not long ago.
Iorveth stopped.
Faint sounds of unrest could be heard inside the town, while the number of guards on the walls had clearly decreased.
He clenched his fist in excitement.
"Report. What happened?"
The dreadlocked elven lieutenant's small face was equally excited.
"Half an hour ago, a tremendous explosion sounded from inside the town. It was followed by a continuous series of smaller blasts that lasted several minutes before abruptly stopping, but they had already caused widespread panic.
"A second disturbance has now begun inside the town. Because it is dark, many of our people inside seized the opportunity, acquired weapons, and started fighting back!"
"Do you know what happened inside Loredo's fortress?"
Lansi aep Easnillen shook her head earnestly.
Iorveth rubbed the scar across his face several times.
"...This opportunity is too valuable to waste. Wake everyone. The entire force attacks in half an hour!"
The elven lieutenant nodded firmly and turned away.
Iorveth remained where he stood for a moment, thinking. Then he gestured for one of his subordinates to approach.
"Go to Lobinden and see whether Victor and Angoulême are there. If they are not, ask Ciaran whether he knows where they went."
After watching the subordinate run away, Iorveth turned back toward the walls.
A century of experience fighting in forests told him that the rain would soon stop.
That change offered both advantages and disadvantages for a surprise attack, and he silently calculated the proper rhythm for the assault.
This battle would determine the fates of countless people.
...
"That damned bastard!"
Waiting near the residence, Roche slammed his fist into a wall.
He had just seen another group of soldiers withdraw from the town walls and return to defend the fortress.
Iorveth was outside watching for an opportunity, yet that scum would rather weaken the outer defenses than risk his own safety.
It was an absolute dereliction of duty!
No amount of anger could change reality.
If this continued, Loredo's forces would only grow larger. Roche could not wait any longer.
His eyes swept over the men standing ready.
Roche raised his brows.
"Blue Stripes, charge with me!"
...
As Roche began attacking from the perimeter, Victor entered a very peculiar state.
He had never killed so many people before, nor had he continued killing so many after entering an impassioned state.
He felt joyful and satisfied, yet he also understood that enjoying it this much was probably not a good sign.
His melodramatic alter ego, Corion, had become almost perfectly united with his consciousness. Combined with the effects of Terrifying Overlord, he was virtually unstoppable in close-range combat against small groups.
Something seemed strange, however.
The number of people searching for him was steadily decreasing, and some even seemed to be withdrawing.
Victor had gone several minutes without finding anyone to kill.
The rain stopped.
Then he heard Loredo's voice.
Using an enchanted amplifier, the commandant issued an ultimatum.
"Victor Corion, you filthy, stinking rat, crawl out here! Do you think hiding means I cannot deal with you? My men are placing firewood around the pleasure house. You do not have to come out. I will simply set it alight and burn the entire building to the ground!"
Victor frowned.
As expected, no one who rose to such a high position could be entirely stupid.
It made sense. If that pig had truly been as idiotic as he appeared, Iorveth would have killed him long ago.
From Loredo's perspective, he had sent several groups into the building to investigate, only for them all to be driven back by a young woman.
He could therefore be certain that someone Victor cared about was inside the pleasure house.
Even if his judgment was wrong, Loredo did not care whether the building and all the women inside burned to death.
...
Standing beside a window on the second floor, Angoulême knew the situation was dire.
However, she had no way to counter an attack from the outside. If she recklessly left the building, she would also be surrounded and killed.
On the third floor, Ves was helping protect Moril during the delivery.
Her expression did not change when she heard Loredo's threat, but anxiety filled her heart.
Victor had been forced to retreat during his first direct confrontation with the garrison, but his subsequent ambushes had clearly produced tremendous results and wounded Loredo where it hurt.
There would still have been considerable hope if Victor could continue his guerrilla attacks until dawn.
Unfortunately, the rain had stopped at precisely this moment, allowing the traitor to turn the tables and seize the initiative.
The witcher had escaped the first confrontation with the aid of his Signs.
The commandant would certainly not repeat the same mistake. This time, he would prepare for Victor's bombs and then use antimagic weapons to crush him completely.
Emerging into the open meant certain death.
From what Ves knew of Victor, the intelligent young man would never deliberately place himself in a fatal situation.
In other words, he would never appear and give Loredo the opportunity to kill him, even if the entire building were engulfed in flames.
On the two floors, two women reached two different conclusions.
Angoulême knew that after making a promise, her leader would certainly emerge when he heard the threat.
Ves believed that an intelligent witcher would never willingly walk to his death.
The next moment proved Angoulême correct.
Ves could scarcely believe her eyes as she watched that figure walk directly toward the center of the courtyard.
Her heart pounded, and for some inexplicable reason, warmth gathered around her eyes.
For the sake of a single promise, this man had chosen to walk toward death...
Victor's brief and unpredictable guerrilla assault had inflicted astonishing casualties.
The assembled soldiers recoiled in fear, allowing the witcher to walk step by step into the center of the courtyard and enter the encirclement formed by the troops.
"Ah, filthy rat, you finally decided to show yourself again? Look at the miserable state you're in!"
Loredo mocked him triumphantly, convinced that he had already forced Victor to reveal every method at his disposal.
The truth was close to Loredo's assessment.
During the brief guerrilla battle, Victor had used nearly all his bombs to ensure he would not become surrounded. He had also consumed his potions as though they cost nothing.
At least three potions were still active within him, Enhanced Blizzard, Thunderbolt Mk II, and Tawny Owl.
In addition, he had consumed Maribor Forest to accelerate the production of adrenaline, Petri's Philter to strengthen his Signs, and even Werewolf decoction, which greatly increased his ability to continue fighting.
He had originally intended to preserve the decoction as a hidden trump card for the future, but he had used one dose today.
As a result, Victor did not look well.
The rapidly accumulated toxicity had transformed the markings on his face from bright crimson to dark purple-red.
Even his pupils seemed to have lost their light.
They were neither blue nor red, but a deep, murky crimson approaching violet-black.
He stood in the center of the courtyard waiting for death.
His body swayed slightly.
Was he so exhausted that he could no longer even stand steadily?
When Victor did not respond to his mockery, Loredo waved his hand in boredom.
Several elite soldiers carrying antimagic weapons advanced and surrounded him.
The weapons forged from dimeritium were rare, but merely bringing them near a source of magic could disrupt its operation.
Combined with steel shields capable of defending against bombs, they would ensure that the witcher died here.
Victor raised his head toward the sky and drew a deep breath.
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