Witcher: The Half Elf

The location where Princess Pavetta was believed to be held was a primeval forest on the border of the Kingdom of Verden.

Deep within the forest stood an abandoned castle, a relic from a bygone era. According to legend, it was built centuries ago by a proud monarch from Verden to commemorate his achievements. Vast sums of wealth and manpower had gone into its construction, resulting in an impressive, sprawling structure.

Yet, as time passed, both the monarch and his descendants faded into history, leaving the castle to the mercy of the elements. Now, overgrown with vegetation and crumbling in places, it stood as a silent, eerie monument in the wilderness, woven into the fantastical tales of the locals.

Wayne and his companions—Geralt, Yennefer, Aragorn, and Alex—arrived in the Kingdom of Verden through a hidden portal. The portal, created by Isa, the court mage of Cintra, allowed them to discreetly bypass the more populous regions and avoid detection by Verden's spellcasters.

After emerging in a secluded town, they immediately set off for the castle marked on their map, wasting no time.

Time was of the essence. After reporting the findings to Queen Calanthe, the queen was furious and initially considered mobilizing her army to destroy the sorcerers and their monstrous allies.

However, such a plan was impractical. Mobilizing an army over such a long distance to Verden, a vassal kingdom of Cintra, would take weeks—time they did not have. Moreover, the disappearance of Quitto, the fallen sorcerer, would not go unnoticed for long. They estimated they had no more than a day before the enemy realized something was amiss.

If the sorcerers were to relocate their base or escalate their operations, the mission would grow significantly more challenging.

Before setting out, Wayne handed two Dimeritium bracelets to Aragorn and Alex.

"This will reduce the influence of sorcerers on you," Wayne explained. "Focus on avoiding the monsters' attacks, and don't get too close to Yennefer—her spells might not function properly near the magic-blocking gold."

Initially, Wayne had been hesitant to involve the two young men in this mission. While Aragorn and Alex had honed their swordsmanship to an admirable level, they had yet to undergo the mutation trials and were not officially witchers.

However, both were insistent, and Wayne eventually conceded. Even so, he ensured they would not face unnecessary risks, providing them with protections and clear instructions to minimize danger.

When they reached the outskirts of the forest, Wayne hired a local guide from a nearby village at an exorbitant price.

The guide, a middle-aged man with a weathered face, turned pale at the mention of their destination. His voice trembled as he muttered about "haunts" and "monster lairs," his fear evident in his trembling hands.

But the glint of gold proved a powerful motivator. Steeling himself, the guide led them through the dense, shadowed forest toward the abandoned castle.

Nestled near a valley, the castle loomed larger than expected, its scale impressive even after centuries of decay. The structure's stone walls were cloaked in moss and ivy, its windows emitting faint, ominous light. Despite its state of disrepair, the castle retained a commanding, foreboding presence.

From the moment they saw it, Wayne and his companions knew they had found the right place. The eerie glow from the windows was enough to confirm that the castle was not as abandoned as it appeared. The enemy was here.

"The castle's interior is an unknown," Wayne said, breaking the tense silence. "I'll go in first to assess the situation and ensure Princess Pavetta's safety."

"If I engage the enemy, I'll signal for support."

The plan was straightforward, but it was not without risk. As the leader of the group, it was perhaps unusual for Wayne to take on the most perilous tasks himself. Yet, he preferred to shoulder the danger rather than risk the lives of his companions. Many battles that Wayne considered routine were, for Geralt and the others, fraught with deadly peril.

Geralt, ever pragmatic, did not argue. After a brief pause, he nodded.

"Be careful, Wayne," he said. "If something goes wrong, use an alchemical bomb to signal us. We'll be right behind you."

Wayne nodded upon hearing this, reached out and patted Geralt's shoulder, then tousled Aragorn and Alex's hair. Finally, he retrieved the invisibility cloak from his space bracelet, draped it over himself, and began sneaking toward the castle.

The castle was vast, equipped with a sprawling garden, a towering wall over two meters high, and several smaller stone buildings within the grounds. Its scale and grandeur indicated that its original owner had spared no expense in its construction.

Under the cover of darkness, Wayne made his way toward the castle without encountering any resistance.

The modern Witcher Order, bolstered by abundant resources and a growing number of sorcerers, had developed and distributed numerous magical tools to its members. Every active Witcher now possessed several highly practical enchanted items—an advancement far beyond the Order's earlier struggles.

Wayne had previously provided his invisibility cloak to the Order's sorcerers for study, but despite their considerable expertise, they had been unable to replicate it. They couldn't even comprehend the principles underlying its enchantment. If such cloaks could be mass-produced, they would undoubtedly transform every Witcher into a master assassin.

Still, the sorcerers had created alternative tools to enhance stealth. These included muffling boots that silenced footsteps, sprays to neutralize body odor, blood-sealing poisons for instant kills, and daggers designed to avoid reflecting light. Even without invisibility cloaks, many Witchers had become silent assassins, capable of eliminating their targets without leaving a trace.

After several minutes, Wayne reached the castle's outer wall, but the lack of any visible enemies left him uneasy.

Climbing through a shattered window, he cautiously entered the castle's interior. The moment he stepped inside, his unease deepened as he realized something was gravely wrong.

Outside, the castle grounds had seemed eerily deserted, save for the faint glow of torches. Yet, within the grand hall, he was met with an unsettling sight: thousands of fully armed zombies stood in neat, unyielding rows, as motionless as statues.

The oppressive silence was broken only by the faint crackle of torches carried by a few short, grotesque fallen demons patrolling the ranks of the undead. Their movements were methodical and deliberate, as though they were caretakers tending to their macabre army.

Wayne paused, scanning the hall, his brow furrowing in contemplation. The scale of this force was staggering. The Kingdom of Verden itself, with a population likely just over 100,000, would struggle to muster an army half the size of this undead horde.

These zombies, equipped with armor and weapons, posed a threat on a scale he had not anticipated. Combined with the other monsters and fallen warlocks, this force could devastate cities and potentially overrun Verden's capital before its defenders could organize a response.

The dark sorcerers were advancing more quickly and decisively than Wayne had predicted. They now wielded the strength to lay waste to entire nations.

As Wayne considered the implications, his sharp gaze fell upon the armor and weapons adorning the undead soldiers.

The armor was standard-issue, uniform in style but crudely crafted. It consisted of half-plate chest and joint protectors, clearly intended for mass production rather than individual craftsmanship.

More importantly, the gear appeared new—too new for the undead, who were often adorned with whatever scraps could be scavenged from graves or battlefields. The pristine quality and standardized design suggested something far more insidious: these items had been produced recently, likely on an assembly line dedicated to outfitting this monstrous army.

It was nearly impossible for a private blacksmith shop in the north to mass-produce armor on such a scale. This immediately raised doubts in Wayne's mind, leading him to suspect the Kingdom of Nilfgaard to the south.

Only an emerging power like Nilfgaard, with its burgeoning capitalism, advanced manufacturing, and large-scale industrial operations, could produce such uniform and assembly-line-quality gear.

It seemed likely that Nilfgaard's agents had quietly extended their influence into the north, potentially forming an alliance with the Dark Sorcerers Society.

What remained unclear to Wayne was whether this collaboration was the result of rogue southern sorcerers acting independently or if it was sanctioned by Emhyr var Emreis, the White Flame himself.

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Wayne decided not to linger in the first-floor hall. After a quick survey of his surroundings, he silently ascended the spiral staircase leading to the castle's tower.

As he climbed higher, Wayne kept a vigilant eye on his surroundings. The upper floors were far quieter compared to the first floor's teeming mass of undead soldiers. However, the monsters he encountered here were more dangerous and specialized.

The corridors and chambers held an unsettling variety of enemies. Fallen sorcerers wielding staffs prowled the halls alongside swamp witches capable of casting primal magic. In one room, Wayne glimpsed a night demon—a floating, grotesque creature with a terrifying visage and sharp talons.

The castle seemed to be a haven for monsters of diverse races, unified under the corrupting influence of hell's magic. This unnatural harmony would have astonished scholars who once studied the behaviors of monsters.

Wayne's thoughts, however, were practical. The concentration of powerful foes within the castle rendered it far too dangerous for Geralt, Aragorn, Alex, or even Yennefer to join the battle. Their collective strength, though formidable, wasn't sufficient to overcome these numbers without considerable risk.

Charging into the castle recklessly would almost certainly result in their deaths.

Wayne's demeanor grew more cautious as he continued his infiltration. After more than ten painstaking minutes, he bypassed the monsters and reached the top floor of the castle.

The top floor was arranged in the style of a laboratory, spacious and unsettlingly orderly. The walls were lined with torches and enchanted lamps, flooding the hall with an unnervingly bright light.

Wooden contraptions resembling torture devices were scattered across the room, with numerous individuals tied to them—most of whom appeared lifeless or on the brink of death. Nearby, rows of experimental beds were meticulously arranged, each adorned with various grim instruments and magical devices.

Despite the castle being heavily fortified, this hall was surprisingly quiet, likely due to the late hour. The presence of enemies here was minimal but no less dangerous.

As Wayne scanned the room, his eyes fell on Princess Pavetta. She was restrained on one of the experimental beds, her frail form dressed in a thin, nearly translucent garment that offered no protection from the cold. Her abdomen was swollen with pregnancy, and her expression remained eerily calm, though it was clear she was unconscious.

Wayne's gaze shifted to the man standing beside her—a figure of imposing build, dressed in fine robes. The man held a set of intricate magical instruments, his attention fixed on examining the princess. His expression was one of cool detachment as he worked methodically, jotting down notes and analyzing data.

The moment Wayne saw him, he recognized the man. This was Vilgefortz, a powerful sorcerer whose name was infamous across the Continent. Known for his intelligence, charisma, and ruthlessness, Vilgefortz was a pivotal figure in the wizarding world—a man who had once shattered Geralt's legs with a staff in the original timeline.