Witcher: The Half Elf

It seemed that fate had other plans. Despite the intelligence suggesting a dusk arrival, the fallen warlock Quitto did not appear as expected.

Wayne, Geralt, Yennefer, Aragorn, and Alex had already taken up positions, each hidden strategically around Arbor Village, maintaining a careful watch over the surroundings. The atmosphere remained tense as the hours passed, the setting sun giving way to the cool light of a full moon.

When the hour grew late, Quitto finally appeared, cloaked in black and accompanied by an ominous entourage of over a hundred monsters.

What caught Wayne's attention was the composition of this grotesque army. Among the ranks of twisted, hellish beasts were several familiar figures:

Rows of water hags, their slimy blue skin gleaming under the moonlight, shuffled forward with webbed hands gripping crude weapons. Towering over them were horned demons, their hulking frames radiating raw power, muscles taut like boulders.

Mixed within the ranks were swamp witches, mist wraiths, and malicious grave hags, adding an eerie mystique to the force. Most chilling of all, however, was the presence of a regiment of undead warriors—silent, armored, and armed—standing unnervingly still.

Though the number of monsters was not overwhelming, their strength and coordination made them a terrifying force. Without intervention, Arbor Village would be reduced to smoldering ruins by dawn. The fallen villagers would inevitably rise again as part of the undead army, bound to Quitto's malevolent will.

But Wayne was not one to waste time with words. The moment Quitto's cloaked figure emerged, Wayne made his move. While the monsters surged forward, their attention drawn to Geralt and the others emerging from their hiding places, Wayne flanked the enemy.

With a flash of lightning from his Statik Electric Blade, Wayne surged through the throng, slicing through undead soldiers as if their armor were paper.

Quitto's protective circle of armed zombies collapsed in mere seconds under Wayne's assault, their bodies hewn apart with precision. The sorcerer, sensing the danger, raised his staff to conjure an escape spell, only to find his magic faltering.

Confusion morphed into panic as Quitto realized what had happened.

Dimeritium.

Wayne's armor and weapons bore traces of this rare, magic-blocking metal, disrupting Quitto's spells and leaving the sorcerer powerless in its radius. Known as the bane of spellcasters, Dimeritium had been the undoing of countless sorcerers, their intricate spells rendered useless against the cold logic of this material.

In mere moments, Quitto's last line of defense materialized—a massive horned demon that stepped forward, snarling, its eyes blazing with malevolent intelligence. This towering beast, nearly three meters tall, exuded an aura of raw destruction.

Unfazed, Wayne dismissed the Statik Blade into his space bracelet, summoning instead the Sword of Victory—a legendary blade forged for purging evil.

The demon roared, its horned head lowering in a charge, confident in its brutish strength. But confidence was no match for Wayne's skill.

With a surge of supernatural strength, Wayne swung the Sword of Victory in a sweeping arc. The golden blade gleamed in the moonlight, its edge honed by countless battles. The horned demon's charge faltered as the sword met its thick arms in a single, devastating blow.

The blade cut through sinew and bone, severing both arms in one strike. Blood gushed from the gory stumps as the demon bellowed in pain, but Wayne gave it no respite. With a second swing, the blade cleaved through the demon's skull, splitting it cleanly.

The hulking body collapsed with a deafening thud, its lifeblood staining the earth. Wayne stepped over the corpse without a moment's hesitation, his eyes fixed on Quitto.

The sorcerer, now cornered, abandoned all pretense of escape. Dark energy seeped from his eyes and the demonic tattoos etched across his skin, forming a swirling aura of chaos around him.

/

Under the influence of the dark power coursing through his veins, Quitto's frail, gaunt frame began to transform grotesquely. His muscles bulged unnaturally, tearing through his cloak as his body expanded at an alarming rate. Within seconds, his features contorted into something monstrous—a humanoid abomination, his skin cracked and pulsing with dark energy. His staff, once a tool of spellcasting, now became a crude weapon in his grotesque hands.

Despite knowing deep down that he was no match for the witcher standing before him, the dark power that corrupted Quitto's mind left no room for rational thought or retreat. His corrupted instincts demanded he fight. With a guttural roar, he swung his reinforced staff in a wide arc, aiming to crush Wayne's skull.

But Wayne, battle-hardened and unshaken, met the strike head-on. His left hand, clad in an adamantine gauntlet, punched the incoming staff with devastating force. The clash wasn't even close. The staff shattered like brittle wood, and Quitto's hands were broken under the sheer power of the blow.

A scream of agony tore from Quitto's throat, but before he could recover, Wayne had already closed the distance. With effortless precision, he grabbed the sorcerer by the neck, lifting him off the ground like a ragdoll.

Wayne's cold eyes locked on Quitto's disfigured face. His grip tightened, choking the warlock into submission. The battle had barely begun, but the commander of the monstrous horde had already been reduced to nothing more than a pitiful, defeated figure.

The absence of their leader threw the remaining monsters into disarray. Under the coordinated assault of Yennefer's devastating spells and the relentless strikes of the three witchers, the horde crumbled.

The undead soldiers, devoid of intelligence, fought on until they were systematically dismantled. The remaining creatures—Demons, Water Hags, and other instinct-driven beasts—fled into the forest, scattering like frightened animals.

Only Aragorn and Alex, exhilarated by their first real battle, gave chase to the fleeing monsters, eager to test their skills further. For the rest of the group, the retreating creatures were of no consequence. The battle was won.

Dragging Quitto's limp body through the battlefield littered with the remains of the monstrous horde, Wayne unceremoniously tossed the bloodied sorcerer at Yennefer's feet. His tone was calm but commanding:

"Yennefer, use your magic. Whatever it takes—extract the information we need. Whether this filth lives or dies is of no concern."

The sorceress raised a sharp eyebrow, her piercing gaze meeting Wayne's. After a moment of silent consideration, she nodded.

"I'll use necromancy," Yennefer said, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. "This kind of dark magic leaves no room for resistance or deception."

Wayne inclined his head in agreement. Given the corrupting influence of the dark power, psychological spells would be ineffective. Necromancy, though frowned upon by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, was the only tool vicious enough to bypass Quitto's defenses. In this situation, no one cared for convention or ethics; the mission came first.

As Yennefer began her incantation, the air grew cold, and the ground beneath Quitto's body seemed to darken. For over ten minutes, the fallen sorcerer writhed and wailed, his voice echoing with inhuman agony as Yennefer's spell forced the truth from him.

When the interrogation was over, Quitto lay motionless, reduced to a husk of his former self. Without hesitation, Wayne drew his blade and ended the sorcerer's life with a swift, clean stroke. Blood pooled around the lifeless body, but the information they had gained was far more disturbing than anyone had anticipated.

The truth was grim. Princess Pavetta had indeed been kidnapped by the Dark Sorcerer Society, but Quitto was not the mastermind—merely a pawn. Their ultimate goal was the study and exploitation of the Ancient Blood.

What shocked Wayne and the others was the revelation that Princess Pavetta was pregnant. Her unborn child would inherit the full power of the Ancient Blood, becoming a vessel for the dark forces orchestrating this abduction. However, this transfer of power would come at a devastating cost—Princess Pavetta herself would be drained of her life force and ancient blood during childbirth, leaving her a lifeless shell.

This harrowing revelation spurred the group into action. After a brief but determined discussion, Wayne and his companions resolved to move immediately to track down the princess and end this dark scheme once and for all.