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TWL Chapter 388: Operation Serpent Fang
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 04:57:09 +0000 UTCSparks, screams, and the sounds of combat echoed constantly from the front lines.
One guerrilla squad after another clashed with the Nilfgaardian main camp. They would stir up chaos and then withdraw just as swiftly.
As for the overall commander of the guerrilla forces, Letho remained hidden in the shadows, eyes closed in silent meditation, completely motionless.
Major Mopka had assumed that the Cintran guerrillas had received new reinforcements and were launching a full assault. In truth, however, it was still just the hundred-strong squad led by Geralt—an illusion of overwhelming force created entirely by Yennefer’s magic.
The true reinforcements stood behind Letho.
Julia, known by her codename Pretty Kitty, stared at the bald man’s broad back in astonishment. Just the sight of him gave off a pressure that was no less overwhelming than that of Gerd, the bear-like witcher.
Behind Julia stood her battalion of one thousand Free Company soldiers. Over the past weeks, they'd used guerrilla tactics—splitting into smaller units and then regrouping—to sneak through the forest's hidden paths and evade Nilfgaardian blockades. That allowed them to rendezvous with the forest guerrillas.
All in preparation for this very battle.
“Commander Letho…” Julia eyed the bald warrior, who remained motionless with eyes shut. His control over his presence was so perfect, she almost didn’t want to disturb him.
Since arriving at the rendezvous point, he hadn’t moved a muscle. Anyone unaware of the situation would’ve assumed he was a corpse. If she hadn’t deliberately focused on him earlier, Julia might’ve forgotten he was even there.
How could someone so physically striking actually give off the impression of a snake, coiled and hidden in the grass?
“Aren’t we moving out?” she asked tentatively.
With a long exhale, Letho finally opened his eyes.
Julia met those amber, serpent-like pupils for two seconds before involuntarily looking away.
“Colonel Julia, we still need to wait a bit longer.”
“Wait for what?”
[Flap-flap-flap—]
The sound of wings beating in the night sky caught Julia’s attention. A crow descended nearby—ordinarily invisible in such deep night—and tilted its head as it looked at them.
The crow seemed to be waiting for something. But Letho merely stared at it silently, making no move.
“We’re… waiting for it?” Julia asked in disbelief. After witnessing Bill rampaging through Brokilon in his bear form, she thought her ability to accept the bizarre had been pushed to its limits.
Could this crow be someone transformed as well?
Letho didn’t answer. He simply continued to watch the bird in silence.
The awkward stillness was finally broken by a blast in midair. A red portal burst open above them, causing Julia and her warriors to tense as they shifted into alert positions—just in time to see Yennefer and a dazed Geralt stumble out.
Letho let out a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief.
Waves of chaotic energy radiated from Yennefer’s body, and the crow on the branch seemed finally satisfied. Its feathers shimmered as if melting snow were washing them away, revealing a translucent crystal skull underneath. Empowered by magic, the skull floated toward Yennefer’s open palm.
As the sorceress’s pupils dilated, she established a mental connection, tuning into a new consciousness—beginning to witness a different world through another’s eyes.
While Yennefer cast her spell, Geralt shook his head and walked over to report to Letho: “Yennefer and I made a pretty big scene. The enemy mistook us for the main attacking force and is trying to lure us deeper in.”
“I had the guerrillas toss all their bombs and then retreat. After that, Yennefer and I continued fighting behind enemy lines. We’ve confirmed that they’ve already concentrated their main forces in our direction. So, do you want me to help with the next step—wait, what the hell are you wearing?”
Geralt trailed off, his eyes fixed on Letho’s outfit. The witcher was clad in a suit of black armor that, in the dim night, made him look almost indistinguishable from a Nilfgaardian.
Letho didn’t respond to Geralt’s final question. Instead, he nodded to himself and issued instructions: “I do need your help. In a moment, I’ll hand command over to you—you’ll lead the Free Company to burn the enemy’s supplies. I’ll try to achieve a greater victory elsewhere. The other guerrilla teams will be lurking nearby to support you once you succeed. Do you still have enough Dragon’s Dream and Dancing Star? I won’t need them where I’m going—take mine.”
Geralt stared at Letho’s outfit for a long while before letting out a heavy sigh. “This may be your old line of work, but don’t tell me this was a last-minute decision.”
Letho confirmed the suspicion. “I’ve been planning this for a while.”
Geralt sighed again.
Just then, both he and Letho felt the medallions on their chests start to tremble violently.
Yennefer exhaled slowly. Amidst a powerful surge of chaotic energy, the crystal bird skull in her hands once again transformed into a lively raven.
“I’ve seen it. The enemy’s main force has indeed shifted toward the direction Geralt and I attacked from—but there’s one area where their defenses haven’t been reduced. That has to be their granary.”
The sorceress’s complexion had turned slightly pale. Even for her, the night’s exertions had nearly drained her magical reserves.
“It’ll lead you to the granary,” Yennefer said, pointing at the raven. “I’m not going.”
Letho nodded. “You’ve done enough.”
Geralt, for once, showed visible concern. Yennefer, however, mocked his change of expression.
“Don’t give me that look like I’m some delicate flower. I finished my part tonight—you haven’t.”
With that, Yennefer tossed her hair, leaving behind the scent of lilac and gooseberries as she opened another portal. Just before vanishing into the void, she left one final remark drifting in the air: “Don’t forget to bring my things back—”
The raven, still perched on Geralt’s shoulder, tilted its head as it watched the proud sorceress disappear into nothingness.
Letho pulled up his hood, his entire figure melting into shadow, his expression hidden. “Sorceresses, huh?”
White Wolf didn’t respond to Letho’s jest. He shrugged his shoulder and sent the raven flying.
“Time to work.”
...
“What do you mean they disappeared? With all that noise? With that many enemies?!”
Major Mopka shouted, completely losing his composure. The messenger he had grabbed by the collar looked just as bewildered.
“We found tons of fragments. They used a lot of alchemical bombs. When we tightened the encirclement, we really did see a lot of Cintran fighters… but then they suddenly vanished—just like that. Like illusions…”
Major Mopka took a deep breath. “If it wasn’t because your front-line squads were especially affected by the poison… then it must’ve been magic.”
He released the messenger and forced himself to stay calm.
Magical tactics weren’t rare for southern forces. The existence of sorcerer units wasn’t a secret. With Mopka’s rank, he’d had access to many of the Empire’s high-end weapons:
Sorcerers, alchemical bombs, Fire Scorpion ballistae, corpse throwers, catapults… the Empire’s philosophy of war was ahead of the North’s by more than just one generation.
But damn it all—because of logistics and other complications, none of those had been supplied to the Western Army Group!
And now Nilfgaard was being tactically outmaneuvered by a tiny Cintra?
Mopka was furious—but a chill suddenly shot up from the base of his spine.
Northern sorcerers held high status. A magic user capable of creating this much chaos could easily command their own unit in the South. So why would a sorcerer cause a commotion this massive?
He suddenly spun around—and saw flames rising high into the sky, illuminating his eyes.
That direction… was the granary.
It was over.
“Major!”
“I see it…” Mopka muttered. “A fire that big—how did they even set it?”
“Oh, right. They had a sorceress. And bombs. And a witcher…”
“Major!”
The messenger tried to rouse his commanding officer, but Mopka was already slumped on the ground, unresponsive to the shouts around him.
His adjutant gritted his teeth and assumed command. The strictly hierarchical Nilfgaardian army would never allow itself to collapse into paralysis. A dull horn sounded, and almost every able-bodied soldier rushed toward the granary.
Of course, even without the horn, everyone already knew which direction they should be running.
The exhaustion that Major Mopka had been suppressing through sheer will and pain suddenly surged forth. His vision grew blurry.
In that haze, he caught a glimpse of a pair of amber, serpent-like eyes—and the faint yet blinding flash of a blade.
[Schlick!]
Major Mopka would never stand again. A spray of blood burst from his body as he collapsed heavily to the ground.
Although the night wasn’t so dark that one couldn’t see their hand in front of their face, visibility was still poor. The blaze in the distance failed to provide enough light for proper observation, and the flickering shadows it cast only made it harder to see clearly.
Add to that the chaos of people running everywhere and officers shouting commands, and it was no surprise no one noticed what had just happened nearby.
Even Mopka’s own guards hardly registered his fall.
After downing a vial of Cat, Letho’s vision sharpened dramatically. The blinding firelight dimmed, the heavy black shadows brightened, and the world’s color tones evened out. Every edge and outline became clear.
He glanced at the adjutant who had assumed command, then lowered his head in contemplation. Like a serpent gliding silently through the grass, he crept forward.
Ten breaths later, a shrill scream rang out.
“—The major has been assassinated!!”
The flames roared, smoke billowed, and every royal guard turned pale with terror.
[Crack!]
The Black Sun banner at the army’s center emitted a dreadful sound as it collapsed to the ground with a rustling crash in the wind.
The fire began to trace the golden edges of the Black Sun symbol on the banner—setting the sun ablaze.
