The portal itself seemed to be forcibly stretched, rapidly expanding to twice, three times, five times its original size...
Finally, a massive portal over twenty metres in diameter materialised on the ground, occupying nearly half the training ground. The view of Lake Vizima grew clearer beyond the gateway, and one could even feel the light misty breeze drifting in from the shore.
The sheer scale of the portal, the magical energy it absorbed, and the level of spell control required filled Margarita — who had never witnessed anything like it — with a sense of awe.
"Hurry up, what are you all staring at?" Karl's insistent voice rang out, this time directed at Keira, Margarita, and the others who were somewhat stunned.
Borch responded by carefully folding his wings, making himself as compact as possible. Then, with heavy strides, he made his way toward the enormous portal. Though the gateway was spacious enough, he still cautiously adjusted his angle as he passed through, careful not to brush against the sparks at its edges.
As Borch began to cross through the portal, the rest quickly mobilised.
Hen, controlling the "realistic illusion" that was identical to Karl, took the lead and stepped through the portal. The illusionist's manners and expressions were so lifelike that he could easily be mistaken for the real thing.
Following in turn came Tissaia, Margarita, Triss, Yennefer, Keira, Mousesack, and the other mages, along with Geralt.
Dalton and Philipp exchanged glances, raised their halberds, and with a simple gesture signalled the phalanx of knights behind them. The fifty-three knights immediately split into two lines, moved in unison, and silently poured through the portal.
Margarita deliberately slowed her pace, lingering in the penultimate group. Since most people had already passed through the portal, Borch's massive hindquarters were also slowly making their way through.
Her gaze darted around, briefly glancing at the approximate location where Karl was "invisible," and a charming yet mischievous smile suddenly appeared on her lips.
She took a small, seemingly casual step toward that empty space, as if by accident. At the same time, she extended her right hand and gently but firmly touched the spot on Karl's chest she had anticipated.
Even through his clothing, the touch of her palm clearly revealed the solid, hot, steel-like contours of his pectoral muscles. She could even vaguely feel the steady, strong heartbeat pulsing against her palm.
Margarita's smile instantly widened, and her eyes narrowed like a child who had stolen a sweet. She went too far; instead of immediately withdrawing her "naughty" hand, she slowly slid it downward...
However, just as her fingertips were about to reach a more "strategic" area, the sensation of solidity in her palm suddenly vanished, as if she had touched warm, firm air.
Margarita's hand froze in mid-air; she knew Karl had dodged.
"Hmph~" She let out a barely audible hum, a nasal tone that carried a hint of reproach at being denied. But above all, it was playful anticipation — a feeling of: "You got lucky this time, but next time might not be so fortunate."
She made no further attempt and withdrew her hand with perfect naturalness. Then, with graceful posture and elegant steps, she stepped through the portal.
Karl, still within his forcefield in a state of invisibility: "..."
He felt a vein pulse on his forehead. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to the figure that had already passed through the portal. Something like, "Please consider the circumstances and etiquette," or "We're heading to war."
But as the words circled on his tongue, he felt that saying them aloud would only make matters worse. In the end, he could only remain helplessly silent, condensing his complex emotions into a nearly inaudible sigh.
He truly hadn't expected... that this dean's style of operation would be so... wild and audacious. In broad daylight, under the watchful eyes of everyone present, at a tense moment on the eve of a major battle, how could she remain clear-headed enough to pull off such an unexpected "harassment"?
Karl shook his head, forcefully suppressing any inappropriate thoughts; this was no time to dwell on anything else.
Borch carefully squeezed back through the portal, finishing with the last part of his tail. His draconic head turned in confusion on the other side of the gateway, and he scratched the hard scales on his chin with a claw from one of his forelimbs.
It seemed he had just seen... that sorceress in the green dress, exuding a wonderful fragrance, touching the air? Then her hand moved slightly downward? Then she seemed to let out a dissatisfied hum? What was she doing? Catching insects in the air? Or was it some strange ritual act?
"Hurry up and get over here, we're closing the portal!" Hen's voice called from the other end.
Borch quickly cast aside his vague doubts, quickened his pace, and entered the Lake Vizima area.
Karl was the last to pass through the portal, his feet touching the slightly damp earth of Lake Vizima's shore. The sparks at the edges of the portal behind them rapidly dissipated and faded, and silence fell upon the space.
Before him stretched a wide open lakeshore, beyond which lay the vast lake shrouded in thin mist, and further still, the small islands of the Nymphs and Dagon. The air was filled with a mixture of moisture, soil, and the smell of decaying plant roots.
At this moment, the "Karl" created by Hen was in the distance, conversing with Foltest, clad in magnificent plate armour and wearing a crown. Several knights in full armour bearing the emblem of the white lily moved about, establishing the outer perimeter and performing other tasks. Every movement of the illusionist was mimicked with extreme realism — even the faint expressions and gestures during conversation were identical.
Karl did not go there; instead, he turned and headed toward the deeper shoreline, toward the location of the Nymph.
On the shore, Geralt, Triss, Yennefer, and the others who had arrived earlier had already begun their work. They hadn't sat idle, but rather, under Hen and Tissaia's orders, had positioned themselves at chosen spots along the lakeshore.
Geralt was setting alchemical bombs, while Triss, Keira, and the other mages carved runic traps in the area closer to the water. Their movements were virtuosic, their teamwork excellent — clear evidence that their previous rehearsals had not been in vain.
Margarita and Tissaia stood on a slightly higher vantage point, surveying the entire lake and the opposite shore. Magic flickered between Margarita's fingers, as if she were sensing and calculating something, occasionally exchanging whispered opinions.
Dalton and Philipp had already ordered the remaining knights to form a semicircular defensive formation behind the frontline established by the mages.
When Karl partially deactivated his concealment, revealing his general outline, he stood near the water's edge.
Geralt noticed immediately and quickly approached. The others also paused briefly, turning their attention.
Karl stood at the water's edge, his gaze calmly fixed on the lake's surface, from which emanated a faint trace of divine power.
In the next moment, ripples suddenly spread across the lake not far before him. Immediately after, from the centre of the ripples, the lake water rose, and from it emerged an elegant figure — the Nymph who had made a promise to Karl.