The Witcher: Make the Witcher Great Again

Chapter 404 404: Night Raid

It wasn't a stealth insertion, but a direct observation from dozens of meters away using his witcher senses. Normally, witcher senses couldn't reach that far, but thanks to the second mutation, Lynn's senses had been greatly enhanced. And at a distance of dozens of meters, he didn't worry about being discovered by sentries; even with moonlight, to the humans of this era who widely suffered from night blindness, the visibility was barely better than pitch black.

After concluding his observations at the Southern Camp, Lynn ran to the Northern Camp for a similar inspection, before finally returning to the witchers' resting spot.

His observations confirmed his initial predictions. Most people in both the North and South camps were asleep. The sentries primarily focused their vigilance on the direction of Ironwood City. While the other directions weren't entirely unguarded, the alertness there was negligible.

After a half-hour rest, their expended energy was fully recovered. Lynn distributed the Higher Alchemy Bombs and Higher-grade Potions. The witchers all drank their potions and were fully laden with the bombs.

Lynn waved his hand.

"Let's move."

The witchers split into three teams and quietly approached the nearest Southern Camp from three directions.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

That was the sound of crossbow bolts tearing through the air, piercing throats and skulls. Unlike Lynn, who had the System, learning to use a proper bow took years to decades. However, a crossbow could be mastered quickly. Lynn drew a longbow from his magic-woven satchel and aimed for the sentries on his side.

A few quick arrows, and all the sentries on watch fell, arrows embedded in their heads.

"We're going in."

The company scaled the palisade and entered the camp.

The ground inside the camp was littered with sleeping bodies, lying haphazardly. Conscripted peasant soldiers didn't have tents, and even standing troops often slept with the sky as their blanket and the earth as their bed. The widespread use of tents for every soldier wouldn't happen until the Napoleonic Wars. In this era, only knights and nobles had tents to sleep in.

Lynn made a few hand signals. The witchers in his team dispersed. Ignoring the sleeping conscripts, they drew their daggers and began methodically executing the professional standing troops sleeping on the ground.

Unprepared, these professional soldiers lost their lives in their sleep.

Unfortunately, after killing about fifty men, someone was finally startled awake by a sound. A sudden scream pierced the silent night, sounding exceptionally harsh.

Since they had been discovered, there was no need for pretense. The witchers, including Lynn, put away their daggers, drew their two-handed swords, and began their massacre. These two-handed swords were all forged by Theinssel and his apprentices using the mithril ore mined deep in the Blue Mountains. As a result, even the chainmail worn by the professional soldiers was cut through as easily as paper.

Switching to two-handed swords, and no longer needing cautious assassination, significantly increased the efficiency of the slaughter. In short order, dozens of bisected corpses fell to the ground.

In the distance, enemy soldiers began gathering into formation, and someone was shouting, "Archers!"

Lynn would not allow them to organize.

"Throw bombs!"

He instantly pulled out a Higher Dancing Star bomb and hurled it toward the direction of the "Archers" shout.

Boom!

A ball of fire exploded, engulfing two or three dozen clustered chainmail soldiers. They instantly became burning human torches, screaming in agony, a truly ghastly scene.

The other witchers also tossed their alchemy bombs. The bombs exploded one after another in the ranks, quickly disrupting the formation that the enemy had struggled to assemble.

"Don't panic! Re-form ranks!"

Lynn looked in the direction of the voice. He saw a nobleman, clad in ornate, heavy armor, standing protected by several knights in full plate armor and dozens of heavily armored infantry. The noble was loudly exhorting the surrounding soldiers.

In the midst of the chaos, his words had some effect. Some soldiers and conscripts fleeing from his direction stopped running, inspired by his voice, and began gathering around him.

Lynn didn't hesitate. Shouldering Aerondight, he charged straight toward the nobleman.

"Stop him! Quick, stop him!"

Someone noticed Lynn's movement and loudly warned the others. Over ten heavily armored infantrymen rushed to attack Lynn.

Lynn thrust his left hand out, casting a freezing Aard Sign. A massive burst of cold air rushed forward, freezing the dozen infantrymen into lifelike statues of ice in the blink of an eye.

Lynn leapt over the frozen statues. He was now only a few dozen meters from the nobleman's entourage. He covered the distance in a flash, cutting into the panicked crowd. To Lynn, the movements of the heavily armored infantry and knights blocking his way were agonizingly slow, like a scene in slow motion. Their shields and the armor they wore were sliced apart by Aerondight as if they were made of paper.

From the moment Lynn broke into the crowd until he carved a path straight through it, only a few seconds passed. Every enemy that stood in the witcher's path was reduced to a corpse on the ground. Blood saturated the earth.

As the utterly bloodless nobleman gripped his sword, attempting a desperate final stand, Lynn had already completed his sword swing behind him.

The nobleman was suddenly shocked to find his head rolling away from his body.

The surrounding conscripted soldiers, who had just managed to gather themselves, instantly broke and fled.

The Southern Camp was finished.

The remaining routing soldiers were intentionally driven by the witchers toward the Northern Camp. A few, scattered individuals, managed to escape into the darkness.

At the Northern Camp, the earlier explosions, firelight, and loud sounds had prompted the sentries to quickly ring the alarm bell. The commanding officer was jolted awake. When he learned that the Southern Camp was under attack, his mind went blank. He couldn't believe that the garrison of Ironwood City dared to launch an offensive.

However, he was still the commander of the entire Northern Camp. After grasping the situation, he quickly made a decision:

He ordered his second-in-command to take a troop of men to reinforce the Southern Camp. But the bulk of the forces were to remain and defend the Northern Camp.

The second-in-command was confused. "My Lord, shouldn't we only leave a small detachment and send the majority of our men to relieve the attack?"

"Are you an idiot?" the commander snapped, cuffing his subordinate on the head.

"Even if the worst happens and the Southern Camp falls, our army can at least rely on the Northern Camp to hold its position and prevent the Ironwood City garrison from attacking His Majesty's rear…"

"If we send the majority of our men to reinforce, and the enemy uses the camp's emptiness to strike here and take the Northern Camp as well, what then?"

The second-in-command broke out in a cold sweat, dared not speak further, and hastily left to take a company of soldiers out of the camp.

Soon after, the commander observed a large number of troops rapidly approaching the Northern Camp.