Offshore, ever since Lann had led the sorcerers away, the Northern Legions had entered full combat readiness.
This was a legion that had never appeared in the current standoff between North and South.
If the Nilfgaardians on the frontlines were to see them now, they would no doubt cry out in despair.
Ever since the establishment of the Northern Military Unification Alliance, Lann had been gathering all the North's resources to forge a single, absolutely elite fighting force.
Built around the core of Cintra's legions, it was a coalition army assembled from outstanding commanders and elite units across the Northern Kingdoms—integrating human cavalry, dwarven heavy infantry, halfling crossbowmen, dryad archers, and elven light infantry into a single powerful force.
Among them were many familiar faces: Rayla of Aedirn, Roche of Temeria, and Yarpen Zigrin of Mahakam.
Not only did this legion train day and night in a full-time standing army format, but their equipment was equally terrifying.
Every soldier wore full armor—custom-forged by the dwarven craftsmen of Mahakam in collaboration with the Tordarroch clan of Skellige.
Each set of armor was etched with faint alchemical circuits and runic rings.
"Screee—gah!"
A griffin folded its wings and landed on the deck—astonishingly, even it was clad in armor. Yet the heavy metal pieces didn't hinder this beast of the skies in the slightest—its body still moved with the lightness of wind.
Armor like this could be the crown jewel in a count's estate, a priceless heirloom for any baronial household—and completely out of reach for any ordinary knight.
And yet now, such gear had been issued to an entire legion of 10,000 troops.
The currency-manipulating ability Lann had acquired from the Mirror Master was nearly depleted.
But it had been worth it.
…
House dismounted from the griffin and strode over to Ace.
"Has His Majesty given the order yet?"
"Not yet," Ace replied, shaking his head while watching the distant lightning gradually fade. "But I'd say it's coming soon."
He glanced at the restless group of mage apprentices behind him and suddenly sighed.
"Back when His Majesty was still just an earl, he warned us never to reminisce about the past or dream of the future right before battle… But even so, I can't help thinking—who could've imagined we'd end up like this?"
"Hm?"
"Everyone's wishes have basically come true," Ace said with a soft laugh, glancing at his companion. "You stayed by His Majesty's side the entire way—became a bodyguard, a royal guard, a witcher, a legion commander… You've always been his 'sword,' never straying from his side. And Milva… ha! She went even further. We might have to start calling her Your Grace before long."
"Good thing Her Majesty is willing to tolerate her," House chuckled, turning his gaze toward the prow of another ship, where Milva was assembling the archer battalion. "And she still loves that bow of hers."
"My path just strayed a little, that's all. A knight's son who became a mage…" Ace said with a faint smile. "But after this war is over, I'm planning to apply to rejoin the royal guard."
He looked up and grinned.
"From now on, I'll be standing watch beside you again."
"So that way… all our old wishes will come true."
House smiled and shook his head, though it wasn't clear if it was for his companion's dream or something else.
But as he smiled, his expression suddenly turned serious.
"No… there's still one person whose wish hasn't been fulfilled."
He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, tightening his grip around the lion-shaped pommel.
"I still have to use this sword… to utterly destroy Nilfgaard."
Ace drew in a deep breath. "Yes. Today is the day."
In the distance, the thunder finally ceased. The storm clouds above showed signs of dispersing.
A voice echoed from the silver iron box in Ace's arms.
"Ace, prepare for the all-out assault."
The archer adjutants straightened with renewed vigor, immediately shouting commands in every direction.
A deep, resounding horn drowned out the crashing of waves and the howling sea wind. The entire fleet came to life.
One by one, portals opened at the bows of the transport ships. More than eighty trainees—each specialized, or even exclusively trained, in teleportation spells—began sending soldiers to the distant battlefield, one after another.
On the other side of those portals, the ground had long since been cleared—an open space big enough to accommodate the entire legion.
Standing there was a man regarded by all of the North as their true leader—by the people of Cintra, as their faith incarnate.
"Your Majesty!"
That cry boomed like thunder across Golden Tower City.
The movements of both the Nilfgaardians and the Aen Elle elves halted at once.
…Who were they addressing?
…
Tissaia, leading half of the female mages, summoned the last of their power—guiding the clouds above to strike down one final bolt of lightning.
[Crack—!]
The lightning fell upon the freshly formed battle formation of the Northern Allied Legion. Yet the soldiers stood firm, unflinching.
And the lightning, rather than harming them, danced and froze upon their armor—lingering there, flickering with energy.
[Alzur's Shield]: A variant of Alzur's Thunderstorm. When the bearer is attacked, the Alzur's Lightning infused in their armor activates, absorbing damage and reflecting magical attacks.
This was Lann's final enhancement for his soldiers.
With the casting complete, half of the sorceresses under Tissaia's command had depleted their magic reserves entirely. Under the protection of the apprentices, they began withdrawing from the battlefield.
A dozen mages remained behind, led by Triss and Yennefer.
The storm clouds receded from the skies above—but it seemed something beyond the astral realm was beginning to stir.
Triss began weaving a new incantation, and the temperature around her gradually began to rise.
Lann reached out and gently brushed Triss's hair. He said nothing.
He looked at his soldiers as well—but there was nothing left to say. Whatever morale needed stirring had already reached its peak long before, back out at sea.
With a sudden flash, a shimmer of emerald light flared up beside Lann. But this time, it wasn't from one of his own teleportation spells.
As the light faded, Ciri's figure emerged.
She was clad in armor—a layer of chainmail underneath, a flowing white cloak over it, reinforced with large, thin shoulder plates. Her waist was cinched by a red belt, secured with deerskin straps.
Her armor had been meticulously inscribed with enchantments and infusions by Mousesack himself—more diverse and comprehensive than even what Lann wore.
At that moment, Ciri gripped her Swallow rapier tightly in hand, eyes locked on Lann.
"I've already sent the children back to the palace," she said. "Mousesack is looking after them."
"And this battle… I'm joining it too!"
Lann wasn't worried about Ciri. As far back as three years ago, she had already mastered the ability to combine magic with swordsmanship. After years of honing her skills, she had even begun to awaken the power of the Elder Blood. There was no one in this city capable of posing a real threat to her.
Ciri was never a flower raised in a greenhouse.
She deserved to take part in this battle.
Lann nodded. With a single call, two figures immediately soared over from the Griffin Legion. One was House, commander of the aerial cavalry, atop his mount. The other was the original royal Archgriffin.
"She's yours now," Lann said, pointing to the royal Archgriffin.
Then he turned to House and gave a command.
"Command of the legion is yours—follow your queen. Complete the mission we came here for, together with her!"
"Yes, sir!"
The griffins in the sky rose with a thunderous cry, once again casting shadows over the sunlit battlefield as the clouds parted. Below, the soldiers of the North roared in unison, forming a steel tide that surged into the city, crashing into both warring sides.
Lann lightly tapped the ground with his left hand and continued casting spells.
[Teleport]
The Ice Giant—too massive to be transported by ship—materialized with a roar, raising his head to praise "My God!"
The red and green dragons exchanged a glance, then shot into the sky, becoming the new leaders of the griffins.
The rumbling troll family rolled forward like boulders, following in the giant's wake.
The vampires appeared soon after, calling out to the Three Specters of Nilfgaard as they transformed into shadows and vanished into the fray.
Finally, Lann turned his gaze toward the still-active portal, maintained by the combined magic of the elven sage Avallac'h and the Aen Elle.
He placed his left hand on the ground.
[Yrden Sign - Magic Trap - Yrden Intensity - Supercharged Glyphs - Magic Burst]!
A purple magical radiance expanded outward from Lann, rapidly swelling into a massive formation that enveloped the entire city of Golden Towers.
A giant hourglass—as large as a temple bell—materialized in the sky above. With a crack, it unleashed a bolt of magical lightning straight at the portal.
The portal trembled violently, but did not immediately collapse.
Then, wave after wave of searing lightning poured into it.
Finally, with a thunderous boom, as if a bomb had detonated midair, a vortex of wind erupted from the portal's center, sweeping outward like a tornado.
A massive cloud of dust surged upward and hung in the air. But after about ten breaths, everything fell completely silent.
Just like the great portal in the sky—vanished without a trace.
...
World of the Aen Elle.
Avallac'h suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, shocking the guards around him.
Naturally, maintaining a portal of that magnitude was not something Avallac'h, the elven sage, could do alone—numerous elven sorcerers were positioned around the Gate of Time and Space.
At this moment, they all simultaneously vomited blood, and their physical and mental exhaustion was visibly overwhelming.
But what terrified the elven guards even more—was that the portal had vanished.
"Master Avallac'h!"
The sage was immediately supported by those nearby.
Though he had only coughed up a single mouthful of blood, his face had turned deathly pale, as though all life had drained from him.
Avallac'h gasped heavily.
"Why is the portal gone? The unicorns have disappeared as well… Auberon hasn't returned, and even the warriors we sent out…"
His expression grew increasingly ashen. The resources of the Aen Elle World had long since been exhausted, and those who had been dispatched represented the last true elite reserves of the Aen Elle.
Though there were still some elven soldiers remaining, in terms of combat strength, they were now no different from the Aen Seidhe elves—those who had been overthrown by humans in the other world.
"What… exactly happened on the other side?"
…
Lann leisurely lowered his left hand.
He hadn't feared reinforcements from the Aen Elle—what he had feared was their retreat.
"Now, they're not going anywhere."
"With this, every problem will be resolved… completely."
He looked up, his body beginning to glow with a radiant emerald light.
When he appeared again, he was standing atop Saskia's head.
Below them, the Northern Allied Forces had entered the fray as a third force—finally clashing head-on with both the Aen Elle elves and the Nilfgaardian Imperial Guard in the most primal form of combat.
By tomorrow, this battle will be over.
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