The sun returned to the freshly cleared sky—only to be blotted out again, not by storm clouds this time, but by a host of raptors too numerous to count.
The elves of the Aen Elle, once like emeralds in flight, were now shattered and broken. Their vibrant cloaks, soaked in blood, had become tattered rags. Their bodies, once as nimble as panthers, had lost their strength and grace.
Compared to when they first descended into this world, the resolve in their eyes had clearly wavered.
"Why did the portal disappear?! How are we supposed to get back?!" one of the elves cried out in panic.
A moment later, an Imperial Guardsman's spear pierced through his body—erasing both his life and his concerns.
"Protect His Majesty!"
Even now, the morale of the Imperial Guards remained high. Though Emperor Emhyr's prestige within the Nilfgaardian ranks had waned somewhat after years of continuous war, the Guards were always the most loyal.
"Give us back our Emperor!"
Even in chaos, the Aen Elle general roared back defiantly.
At that moment, the coalition forces of the North surged onto the battlefield like a torrential flood. Their battle cries thundered across the plains, pushing the intensity and brutality of the war to its peak.
The roaring lion banner held aloft left the Imperial Guards momentarily stunned—falling elves from the sky could be explained by magic. But how had the Northern army crossed the front lines to arrive at the City of the Golden Towers? Was that magic too?
Just a few years ago, the magical gap between North and South wasn't even that wide!
The Aen Elle looked grim. At first, seeing humans charging in front, they assumed these were just reinforcements for the Empire.
But then, surrounding them from all directions, came dwarves, halflings, dryads—even elves.
They were stunned for a moment.
"Those are... the Aen Seidhe?!"
[Boom!]
Enemy or not, it no longer mattered—everyone in sight was the enemy now. The Northern coalition crashed headlong into both the Imperial Guards and the otherworldly invaders.
[Screech—!]
These were elite units from every race, and they reacted swiftly, some turning to face the new attackers. Frontline soldiers raised their weapons and struck at once.
But—no blood. No clash of steel.
Their blades slammed against some invisible barrier.
Then came the burst of lightning from the Northern soldiers—blinding, violent.
"Aaaaahhh—!"
The iron-armored soldiers immediately convulsed and collapsed. Those lucky enough to survive the initial shock were trampled dead within three breaths.
The Northern troops, by contrast, remained utterly unscathed in this first clash.
"What kind of magic is this?! Humans shouldn't be able to cast this kind of spell!" the Aen Elle screamed.
But no one bothered to answer.
The soldiers of the North drove into their lines like drills, relentlessly and with purpose.
And that wasn't even the worst of it.
"My god—!!"
"Rrrroooar!!"
A giant barreled through the battlefield, swinging an iron-shod staff as tall as a tower. A massive ship anchor was chained to its end—an anchor large enough to stop a flagship in its tracks.
With every step, the ground trembled.
Nourished by magic and raised by druids, the ice giant had grown even larger than it was three years ago.
Two massive dragons rained fire from above, tearing through formations. Their bodies were clad in enchanted iron armor, allowing them to rampage freely through the elven legions. Even the siege ballistae—once weapons they had to avoid—no longer posed a threat.
[Fwoooosh—!]
The Nilfgaardians, already familiar with these monstrous engines of war that had dazzled on the front lines, somehow managed to hold their formation. They knew such monsters were impossible to fight head-on and immediately shifted formation to begin retreating.
But the Aen Elle—facing such a sight for the first time—completely broke down.
Though elite in name, they had seen little true combat over the centuries. Their main activity in peacetime had been the occasional unicorn hunt.
Now, they had descended into this foreign world to rescue the Alder King… only to find no trace of him, and their path home completely cut off.
More and more of their comrades were falling around them, and finally, one of the Aen Elle soldiers could no longer bear the pressure and turned to flee.
Defeat.
After a string of crushing blows, the once-organized Aen Elle forces disintegrated entirely—becoming the first faction to collapse and be eliminated from the battlefield.
But they didn't even know where to run.
"Those monsters are charging toward wherever the fighting is thickest. We should flee beyond the city walls—the outer walls have already been breached!"
One sharp-eyed elf spotted the opening.
"Let's just get off the battlefield first!"
…
Scattered groups of deserters were no longer worthy of the giant's or dragons' attention. Every second on the battlefield was too valuable to waste on routing remnants.
But Lann had already given a simple order:
No prisoners.
And so, another squad began to move—this time, in the skies above.
[Szzzztt—!]
The fleeing Aen Elle suddenly saw something burning drop from the sky in front of them.
"Is this... a primitive alchemical explosive compound?"
Even in retreat, the deep-seated arrogance of this Aen Elle soldier showed instantly in his scornful tone.
But a split second later, that arrogance turned to horror.
Because—
[BOOM!!]
A bundle of Grapeshot Bombs detonated, blasting shrapnel in all directions and piercing through the entire group. Half died on the spot; the rest collapsed in agony, able only to scream.
High above, Leo dove gleefully, the griffin emblem on his chest swinging with pride. He reached into the saddlebag of his mount and pulled out another bundle of alchemical explosives—this time aiming in a different direction before letting go.
[BOOM!!!!!!]
This time it was a mix of Dancing Star and Dragon's Dream, a concoction several times louder and more destructive than the last.
Though called a "knightly order," the Griffin Knights were never meant to fight like traditional knights—not under Lann's command.
What, joust with spears midair? Your spear probably isn't even as long as a griffin's wingspan.
And diving attacks? Why throw away the advantage of air superiority just to get knocked out of the sky?
The dragons had already demonstrated the correct way for airborne supremacy:
Stay in the sky, and burn everything beneath you.
Griffins couldn't breathe fire—but the knights on their backs could certainly compensate.
High-altitude bombing was the only correct strategy for aerial combat.
[BOOOOM!!!]
Leo wiped out another group of deserters.
While the giant and the dragons cleared out dense enemy clusters, the griffin riders scouted from above—striking with precision from the sky.
They were the perfect force for sealing off the battlefield—no one would escape this land alive.
And this was still a unit less than a year old. The true potential of the Griffin Knights had yet to be realized. Once griffins could be mass-bred, and their numbers surged explosively, they would completely replace dragons as Lann's dominant aerial force on the battlefield.
…
[Fwoo—]
An arrow suddenly shot upward from the ground. Leo, quick to react, pressed his knees into the sides of his griffin, tilting its body midair. The arrow struck the creature's thick breastplate dead-on.
[Ting—]
The arrowhead shattered and spun off into the air.
"Bloed! How the hell did these Dh'oine manage to put together a unit like this?! Flying beasts armored so well you can't even pierce them with arrows?!"
The elven commander cursed outright.
"Was this the kind of force the Aen Seidhe lost to over a thousand years ago?! Why the hell didn't the Red Riders mention anything about mountain folk having troops like this?!"
There was no time for further complaints. After dodging the sneak attack, Leo retaliated by dropping a bundle of twenty alchemical bombs all at once.
[BOOOOM!!!!]
Even the already-crumbling nearby city wall collapsed completely under the shockwave.
Leo grinned with satisfaction.
But when the smoke cleared—what he saw stunned him.
A thick magical shield had completely protected the elf inside. Only now did Leo notice the elf's armor was far more refined than the others he had bombed earlier—he wasn't just a soldier mixed into the ranks, but a sorcerer.
This could be trouble.
The sorcerer began chanting. If he really unleashed a bolt of lightning or something similar, no matter how tough their armor was, neither Leo nor his griffin would survive a direct hit.
…
"Don't worry. Go after the stragglers—I'll take care of this one."
A voice came from the saddlebag beneath Leo.
It was a magical communicator.
Though Leo wasn't part of Lambert's generation of the Witcher Order, as the new Griffin School witcher sent to replace Lann, he had still earned the favor of the veterans.
He not only received Lann's personal training, but nearly all his gear and supplies had been outfitted generously by Keldar and Jerome, as long as they didn't hinder his growth.
This magical communicator, for instance, was something none of the other Griffin Knights possessed.
So—who was the voice on the other end?
—It was Coën, the Griffin School witcher who had undergone a second mutation, now walking calmly out of the settling dust.
He waved to Leo from afar, motioning for the kid to get lost. Even on the battlefield, there was no need to go picking fights with enemies you couldn't handle.
The elven sorcerer instantly turned toward Coën, letting out a sharp shout.
A surge of blazing lightning shot straight toward him!
But the witcher didn't dodge.
With a flick of his hand, he cast an Aard Sign—a shockwave of compressed air that shattered the lightning bolt mid-flight!
Then the leftover force exploded outward, unleashing a radial shockwave as powerful as an alchemical bomb.
[Whoosh—!]
Dust and wind roared in every direction. It was a fearsome display.
Yet Coën frowned.
Because the sorcerer before him had already turtled up behind another magical shield—and worse, several more Aen Elle elves were already approaching fast from the distance.
Coën, however, was moving alone, acting as a guerrilla on the battlefield. Though not in immediate danger, the situation was still troublesome.
He shrugged and pulled a magical signal device from inside his coat, raising it and pointing it at the elven sorcerer from a distance.
The moment the elf's face twisted in alarm, clearly sensing something, Coën let out a quiet chuckle.
"Times have changed, elves. Humans now wield stronger magic."
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---