Lann looked up, sensing something.
The sky was still clear—but his gaze pierced through it, reaching the endless void beyond.
"They're here!"
Lann slapped his palm against the ground. Over a dozen spheres of light flared to life around him, each revealing a unicorn.
These were all that remained of the unicorns in Brokilon Forest with even a trace of spatial talent.
In the next second, a force from beyond reached out toward Lann with a probing touch. In his system interface, the [Dimensional Travel] option began to glow.
But Lann didn't choose physical traversal. Instead, he used the skill to fully activate the Elder Blood within him. Bright emerald light burst from his body, quickly spreading to Ciri and the four children beside him.
Resonance began—binding them all into one.
All of Bald Mountain was lit up, as though a second sun had descended upon its peak.
A portal unlike any in history opened in the sky above them. Powered by both worlds, it tore effortlessly through the wall that divided the astral realms.
…
Avallac'h's pupils contracted. He hadn't expected the unicorns to open a portal of this magnitude.
One by one, the unicorns collapsed, exhausted. The elven sage took over just in time to seize control.
He lacked the power to open the gate himself—but with the Aen Elle's relics, maintaining the passage was more than doable.
"Aen Elle!" Avallac'h shouted behind him. "Go retrieve our king!"
The troops had long since assembled. At his call, they roared with fury, their battle cry shaking the ground.
And yet, the unicorn leader discreetly drew a mark in the dirt with the tip of its horn. The spiral stripe on its forehead dimmed—as though, in that moment, it had lost all its spirit.
…
Atop Bald Mountain, the summoned unicorns reared back and neighed to the heavens, silver light billowing from their bodies like moonlit mist.
And in the very next moment, the massive portal in the sky vanished.
Meanwhile, in Nilfgaard—in the city of the Golden Tower—
Fringilla was jolted awake by the presence of unicorns. Runes all across the estate flared with blinding brilliance.
Above her… the vanished portal appeared again.
...
In the eastern seas of Golden Tower City.
The waves surged violently.
Yet a massive fleet of Drakkars cut through the crashing tides as if treading on solid ground.
It was a most unusual fleet. Aside from the dozen or so single-masted escort ships circling its perimeter, the rest were all colossal transport vessels, towering and imposing.
At a glance, one could tell these ships carried nearly ten thousand people—comparable in scale to a small nation migrating its entire population.
Griffins took off from the nearby escort ships, soaring overhead before circling back down. They drove away the harpies and sirens drawn by the wind. Astonishingly, they were protecting the fleet.
Even more bizarre than the fleet itself was the wind over these waters. The chaotic currents that struck terror into the hearts of every coastal fisherman seemed to show nothing but favor to this convoy. Every single transport ship's sail was puffed full, catching the wind in precisely the direction they were headed—without the slightest deviation from course.
On the prow of the flagship, Mousesack stood with a group of druids clad in coarse leather robes, chanting in unison to manipulate the weather.
Eist leaned forward, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword while shielding his eyes from the sun with his right.
The King of the Skellige Isles stared in wonder at the sky in the distance. A massive teleportation array was gradually descending. Its shape was slowly being obscured by the coastal cliffs and the surrounding mountains, but even through the jagged silhouettes of the rocks, one could still see the aurora-like ribbons of light emanating from the gate.
And it wasn't just Eist—everyone within a 10-league radius could see the spectacle. The people of Golden Tower City, directly beneath the phenomenon, bore witness most clearly of all.
Their reactions were mixed.
"It's beautiful. So this is magic..." Eist murmured with genuine awe. "Geralt's bard friend should be here to sing a ballad about this—or Iris could paint the scene. Just imagine the masterpiece she'd create!"
"It would be worthy of passing down through the ages!"
Mousesack shook his head at Eist's words. "The beauty of magic isn't really about that. But still—"
The old druid, thinking of what lay beneath the portal—and of what lay on the other side—couldn't help but sigh in heartfelt admiration: "It truly is beautiful."
Receiving that agreement, Eist nodded in satisfaction. "Shame those cliffs are blocking the view. We won't get to see what happens next—Crach, blow the horn!"
"Adjust course! Get us as close to the coastline as possible. I want the shortest possible straight-line distance to Golden Tower City."
"We need to help the mages conserve as much mana as we can for the next round of teleportation!"
Before he finished speaking, bright emerald motes of light flared beside him.
Lann stepped out from the glow, flashing a smile at Eist and Mousesack. With a tap of his foot, more than a dozen similar lights burst to life around him.
The unicorns, whose wounds had been tended to by the Aen Elle after their feigned sacrifice, now emerged one after another.
Lann had just made a trip back to the World of Aen Elle. Using a repeated combination of Teleport and Dimensional Travel, he had personally brought them back into this world—just in case Avallac'h discovered their absence and slaughtered them in fury to harvest materials.
"These are the... fine 'individuals' you mentioned?" Eist asked, choosing his words carefully as he eyed the unicorns with a mixture of curiosity and restraint. "Thank you for your assistance."
[The Elder Blood was right. We share a common enemy.]
The voice echoed directly in Eist's mind, prompting another wave of astonishment from the King of the Isles.
Lann glanced around at the fleet, then turned and asked, "No trouble at the front lines, I hope?"
Mousesack answered in his stead, "Nothing much has changed since you left—Nilfgaard's already grown weary of the war. Vissegerd is overseeing the front now. He's pulled back the entire defensive line and ceased all offensives, which suits the southerners just fine."
"That's how we were able to free up this force for the operation without attracting any attention from the southern army. And once we reduce Golden Tower City to rubble, Vissegerd will launch an all-out offensive while their morale is in chaos."
"We can then strike from the rear and tear their nest wide open," Eist added with a sigh. "It's almost over."
Lann nodded.
Bright flares of light were beginning to erupt from the mountain ridges in the distance, occasionally accompanied by thunder and lightning. The Aen Elle didn't restrict themselves to swordplay in battle—but Golden Tower City, as the capital of the Empire, boasted elite defenses second to none.
According to Fringilla, the Empire's magic research institute was located in Golden Tower City, staffed with large numbers of sorcerers for logistical support—who, by now, had surely all been thrown into the fight.
"Are we going to face a Golden Tower City that's already been torn to shreds?" Eist suddenly asked, looking at Lann.
Lann shook his head. He'd already received intel from the unicorns.
"The Aen Elle rooted magic deeply into their military systems—but most of that went into alchemical gear and enchanted items. As for actual spellcasting, if they couldn't do it before, they still can't. At best, what we're facing are well-equipped elite soldiers—about on par with elite witchers who never underwent the second mutation."
After a pause, Lann added, "Wealthy witchers who don't know any Signs."
"Still, a legion-sized force of witchers—even without Signs—is powerful enough." Eist said with genuine admiration.
"But after all these years of being trapped in their world, all their resources have been funneled into spatial traversal research. Only the royal guard—maybe ten thousand strong—still have access to that level of magical gear. The rest of the army can't afford it."
"Even for the royal guard, their gear might be degrading from lack of maintenance. The power might already be leaking away."
Lann shook his head, then turned and gestured for the signalman to blow the horn. "Enough waiting. We need to begin before the elves realize what's happening and start to retreat!"
"Woooo—" A deep horn call echoed through the air.
In response, glowing portals burst open one after another behind Lann, and sorcerers began stepping through.
There were familiar faces like Triss and Yennefer, along with Tissaia, Keira, and others who had been absorbed into their ranks after Aretuza fell three years ago.
At a glance, there were nearly twenty sorcerers of royal advisor caliber—among them powerful high sorceresses like Tissaia, Yennefer, and Triss.
And behind them came more mages—former Aretuza apprentices and students of the defunct Ban Ard Academy—each of them already proficient in portal magic.
Even though many sorcerer apprentices unfit for combat remained behind in Cintra, the number of spellcasters present here had already exceeded one hundred.
This was Lann's own sorcerer corps.
"Prepare to move out. All apprentices, stay behind for now and wait for our signal to open the portals," Lann ordered, sweeping his gaze across them. "Ace, you're in charge of commanding them."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" the squire shouted excitedly. He knew exactly what he was about to take part in—and at this moment, there was nothing in his eyes but fervent zeal.
"As for the rest of you… come with me for a quick scout." Lann turned to look at Triss and the others.
Lann closed his eyes. The marks he had placed throughout Golden Tower City had, as expected, all converged at the same location.
[Teleport]
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