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TWL Chapter 449: A Match Made in Hell
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 04:44:14 +0000 UTCThe moment Kiyan saw Lann, he instantly knew what the young man was about to do. His already blood-red eyes gleamed with such excitement tha
The moment Kiyan saw Lann, he instantly knew what the young man was about to do. His already blood-red eyes gleamed with such excitement that it looked like they were about to bleed.
But in the very next second, his expression changed drastically. He pulled several companions toward him and raised his left hand to conjure a brownish-yellow protective barrier.
On the other side, Yennefer reacted almost instinctively, summoning a magical shield to firmly protect the remaining witchers.
[Aard Sign: Piercing Force – Magic Burst!]
The mine in Redania seemed to become one with the Mahakam Gorge. A terrifying glacial torrent surged out from the palm of Lann’s hand.
By now, Lann’s mastery over his own powers had reached a new level. He deliberately controlled the flow of air to prevent the storm's shockwaves from damaging the interior of the mine. At the same time, he made no effort to suppress the incoming cold, plunging the entire mine into an Ice Age.
With just a soft whoosh, a mere brush of wind froze everything it touched in shimmering frost. Undead staggering forward were turned into ice sculptures in the span of a single breath, along with the stone walls at their feet, overhead, and to their sides—all instantly glazed in sparkling crystalline ice.
Kiyan and Yennefer continued channeling their magical energy into their defenses until the chaos outside finally died down. Only then did they lower their barriers.
In that instant, the frigid air surged inward.
Fwoosh—every witcher simultaneously cast an Igni Sign, conjuring a fireball in their palms for warmth.
Yennefer, arms folded, walked over to a nearby torch only to find it encased in a layer of frost. Clearly, it was no longer usable.
“Was that really necessary? There were six of us. We could’ve just gone up and sliced them down in a single round. And if that wasn’t enough, a few more Signs would’ve done the job...” Lambert muttered under his breath.
But Vesemir furrowed his brow. “When did you become so reckless, Lambert? Have you forgotten the core principle that keeps witchers alive? We don’t know what tricks these monsters might have up their sleeves! You should all take a page from Lann’s caution—and his methods!”
“…We really can’t learn that,” Lambert grumbled, but quickly fell silent.
The group made their way around the grotesque ice statues and proceeded toward the tunnel behind them. The icy rubble scattered across the floor made it dangerously slippery—Yennefer nearly lost her balance and would’ve fallen if Geralt hadn’t caught her just in time.
A towering door came into view.
Its exceptional height meant there was likely a massive underground chamber waiting beyond it.
But what truly surprised them was the letter stuck to the center of the door’s lock. Despite being surrounded by ice, the parchment hadn't frozen over or torn apart. It was as if some force had preserved it—insisting that its message be read by those who arrived.
[To O:
My throat is hoarse from screaming, but no one will let me out.
Now I understand why...
Death is everywhere—darkness, blood, corpses, rot. The very air reeks of plague. All this pain, fused together, has spawned a spirit of corruption and torment.
It is the 'Red Miasmal Wraith'. Born of the deaths of the young and the old, it came from rotting flesh and clung to me the moment I stepped into this cave.
I had no strength to fight it. I could only seal myself in here with it.
I don’t know who—or what—you’ll meet when you come, but you must be prepared for anything...
If necessary, you may have to kill—
No...
No no no...
Save me. Please save me. You are my only hope!
Hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry—
HURRY!!!]
Vesemir took a deep breath. The bitter cold calmed his heart, which had momentarily been shaken.
Even the eldest Wolf had never come face-to-face with a Red Miasmal Wraith before.
The Red Miasmal Wraith is a creature born from the twisted agony of countless plague victims.
Its manifestation is beyond human imagination, arising only when pestilence—one of the deadliest of natural disasters—is compounded with overwhelming greed, selfishness, and cruelty. That’s why it spreads despair far more devastating than any other monster.
Vesemir's eyes were filled with sorrow.
“The Red Miasmal Wraith has no corporeal form. It can only possess others—and its host inevitably suffers irreversible damage from the plague. But witchers, with their resistance to toxins and disease, make for ideal vessels. A Red Miasmal Wraith paired with a witcher… it’s a match made in hell.”
“This letter is much clearer than the last one. It’s obvious that Reinald had already begun to merge with the Red Miasmal Wraith—ironically, that fusion allowed him to regain fragments of lucidity. At that point, he could’ve easily escaped using his restored strength—he could’ve sought help from other witchers or gathered ingredients himself to brew potions. There were ways he could’ve freed himself from the Wraith.”
The old wolf let out a heavy sigh.
“But that would’ve meant risking the spread of the plague. So in the end, he chose to seal the Red Miasmal Wraith inside this sunless mine—using his own body as the prison.”
“And these letters—letters that should’ve been torn apart long ago by wind, damp, and time—were preserved by some unknown means. Whether through magic, or by tapping into the Wraith’s power using what little reason he had left, he kept them intact. A warning to anyone who came after him.”
“You saw all of this through your Elder Blood, didn’t you, Lann?”
Lann nodded solemnly.
“Yes. That’s why I brought all of you here—to help save this fallen brother.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel drew the silver swords from their backs in unison.
They radiated killing intent.
The nameless voice that had been urging them on all this time suddenly fell silent. Now, they understood—it had been the Red Miasmal Wraith speaking through the possessed Wolf School veteran.
No more words were needed.
Everyone shifted into combat readiness.
Lann stepped forward and placed his left hand on the massive wooden door, now frozen into a solid block of ice.
[Aard Sign!]
A pure telekinetic blast erupted from his palm, tearing the frozen door into shattered fragments.
...
A vast underground cavern lay before them, roughly reinforced into the shape of a small plaza.
A dozen or so torches, spaced evenly along the rocky walls, cast flickering light over the chamber. But instead of smoke, they gave off a strange, dim red mist.
At the far end—directly opposite the shattered door—stalagmites jutted upward from the ground in a chaotic mess. Suspended among them, a warrior dressed in a witcher's gear, his hair and beard disheveled, hung with arms outstretched, held aloft by the jagged stone.
He had been in that position for a very long time. Some parts of his body were already encased by slowly growing stalagmites, as if he had fused with the rock itself.
Ever since Lann had cast the Sign to freeze the outer chamber, the voice that had guided them earlier had gone silent.
Now, with nowhere left to run, it tried once more to mimic a human plea:
“…Save… me…”
“Break these stalagmites… please… save me…”
The expressions on the Wolves' faces were now more ruthless than those of the Cat School, more merciless than the Bear School.
They all turned to Lann—waiting for his command.
“According to the records of the Eternal Fire, the first known plague outbreak happened centuries ago. If Reinald was already possessed back then, this could be very, very bad.”
“In truth, he’s already dead. The only thing keeping him ‘alive’ is the Plague Wraith anchoring itself inside his body. Once it leaves, he’ll immediately become a corpse.” Lann’s voice was grim. “And my Elder Blood can only heal—not resurrect. Even then, healing requires cooperation from the person being healed.”
“So here’s what we’ll do. First, we’ll release him. All of us will fight him to wear down the Red Miasmal Wraith’s strength—and through that, help awaken Reinald’s consciousness so he can work with me.”
Lann turned to Yennefer.
“While we’re fighting, you’ll use magic to suppress the Wraith. Make sure it can’t escape the body once it senses danger.”
“…What… are you saying…”
“Please… help me… brothers of the Wolf School…”
