TitoVillar
patreon
TWL Chapter 304: Ashes of a Giant, Rise of a Follower
🕑 Added 2025-02-14 04:29:00 +0000 UTCFlames climbed up from his calves, quickly enveloping his thighs, abdomen, chest, and head. Even the fur ornaments on its body burned instantly, transforming the ice giant into a living torch.
In a matter of seconds, the damage he suffered far exceeded what everyone had managed to inflict on him after hours of combat.
But the pain did not weaken him but rather made him more ferocious. In his frenzy, anything within his reach was reduced to rubble with a single blow.
The witchers barely had time to react. Fortunately, Lann, seeing the situation, disappeared in a flash of gold, moving away from the battlefield. An instant later, he used his [Teleport] ability to take the group away from the ice giant.
Although his skin was as hard as rock, his body was not made of stone, but of flesh and bone. Although it was a slow process, under the intensity of the fire, his skin began to char, becoming brittle and tearing away until blackened muscles were exposed.
Milva's eyes lit up and in one fluid motion, she nocked an arrow that had been previously soaked in poison to her bow.
Three arrows cut through the air in quick succession.
All three struck the same spot, piercing through the giant's weakened skin. At last, his defense had been pierced.
The poison spread rapidly through the giant's body, due to his accelerated metabolism. Milva did not stop, firing without rest while the sound of her arrows cutting through the air continued to resonate.
Soon, the poison began to take effect. In the areas where his skin had not yet been charred, a purplish-blue hue spread like a stain of death.
The flames continued to consume the giant with increasing intensity. Finally, they reached their peak, as if everything flammable in his body had been consumed. Only embers and sparks remained, which, after a brief flicker, were extinguished.
The giant let out a scream of pain, but his roar no longer had the same force as before. His heavy steps became staggering, on the verge of collapsing.
The most important thing: he was turning around.
He wanted to run away.
Yennefer and Fritjof began to chant in unison. Between the icy cracks in the ground, dormant seeds awoke, transforming into thick vines. The mountain wind seemed to take on a will of its own, forming a gigantic invisible hand that stood in the giant’s way. Even the path beneath his feet suddenly warped, sinking into uneven traps that made his escape difficult.
If he had been in top form, the giant could have freed himself from these bonds with a simple movement. A slight push from his knees would have been enough for him to jump out of danger.
But now, he could only let out helpless moans as he struggled to move.
"God... God!"
He still had strength left.
Lann watched him caught in the trap, his mind working rapidly.
"It's not enough... He still needs to take more damage."
Suddenly, a sword appeared before him. Its design was simple, with no flashy ornaments or engravings. Even the runes carved into the bronze blade were barely visible.
It was the sword forged by the Tordarroch clan for Eist.
"Use this, Lann," Eist said, handing him the sword. "I know you have the Sword of the Lady of the Lake, and its power is undeniable. But this sword... this one was created with the efforts of the best smiths of the Tordarroch clan and the druids of Skellige, it has been created especially to defeat the ice giant."
Lann nodded and took the sword. Then, together with the witchers, he surrounded the ice giant.
He raised the sword above his head and began to concentrate his energy without any restraint.
Meanwhile, Yennefer and Fritjof kept their spells active, restraining the ice giant. The witchers used magical signs to suppress any attempt at resistance from the creature, ensuring that nothing would interrupt Lann.
The runes on the Sword began to glow, though not with the radiance of the Lady of the Lake's Sword, but with a deeper, more solemn light. His life force, adrenaline, and magic merged into the blade, preparing for the final blow.
A moment later, Lann felt like he was about to lose control of the sword, but the next moment an invisible force lightly pushed him from behind, guiding his arm to swing the blade naturally.
The mountain wind was torn by the force of the blow. Everyone, holding their breath, anxiously awaited the outcome of that attack. However, the intensity of the moment made them close their eyes in unison, overwhelmed by the power of the sword.
It seemed that a real giant had taken Lann's position and brandished the sword. When they opened their eyes, they saw the ice giant split from the shoulder to the abdomen. The foul blood was pouring out in torrents, like an overflowing fountain.
An oak coffin rolled across the floor, miraculously unharmed by the attack. Fritjof's spell worked on it, causing the wood to unfold, revealing Harald inside, unconscious.
…
"God..."
The ice giant did not even have the strength to let out a scream of agony. Stunned, he stared at Lann who had dealt him the fatal blow. His expression reflected the realization that his millennia-long existence was coming to an end.
A ghostly figure emerged from his body, taking the form of Iris. She was barely able to maintain her corporeal form; possessing such a colossal creature, even if only to slow her movements, had almost completely drained her energy.
"It's over," Iris said, coming to stand beside Lann. At some point, the black magic scimitar had returned to the sheath on Lann's back.
"Good job, Iris," Lann replied.
Iris transformed into flames of an intense emerald green color and returned to the scimitar, to recover.
But Lann did not take his eyes off the ice giant. For him, this was not over yet.
The witchers looked at him in bewilderment. Eist, Yennefer and Fritjof approached with curiosity.
"What are you going to do?" Eist asked.
Lann didn't answer. Instead, he smiled and said, "I've thought of something far more glorious than slaying an ice giant. Something that will have songs sung about us across the islands for centuries."
He watched the frost giant bleed out. It gathered its last strength to let out one last roar before weakening again. Its eyes closed, and its breathing became increasingly weaker.
"God..."
"My God..."
Kolgrim nodded and commented, "Now we can say that he wasn't just shouting, but that he has actually learned to speak."
Eist and Fritjof looked at each other, and they had a bold guess in their hearts.
Lann, undistracted, waited until the ice giant was on the verge of death. Then, he placed his left hand on the creature's forehead.
This was something he had been preparing for.
Consumed an ability point to activate a new Follower panel.
Follower - Contract.
The experience that had nearly filled his progress bar dissipated as if an eraser had wiped it away. The energy that could have taken him to the next level was channeled into the contract.
Suddenly, the snowy mountain came to life. In that frozen landscape, the giant's wounds began to heal. The massive wound that had nearly torn his torso apart vanished. His blue skin regained its vigor, shedding burn marks and bruises. Within seconds, the ice giant not only recovered, but looked healthier than ever. All traces of millennia of battles, disasters, and hunts had disappeared.
The giant's eyes snapped open and with a slight movement he escaped from the bonds that held him. With a leap he was completely free from the trap.
The witchers, still on guard after the fight, took up their weapons, ready for a new confrontation.
But Lann knew the contract had worked.
The ice giant fell to one knee, bowed his head, and, surrounded by swords and arrows, proclaimed, "My god."
The ice giant bowed to Lann, like a subject paying homage to his king or a devotee praying to his deity.
Whatever the reason, everyone understood one thing: from now on, the ice giant would no longer be a problem for the inhabitants of the islands.
Harald, who had just regained consciousness, stared blankly, unable to believe what he was seeing. If someone had told him that Eist had killed the ice giant to save him, he might have doubted, but to see with his own eyes how the colossal creature knelt before Lann? That was something that went beyond all logic.
Eist gestured for the guards to lower their weapons. He even had to take several deep breaths to calm himself down.
Lann's followers and Cintra's soldiers had a very direct way of expressing their respect and emotions: without hesitation, they knelt on one knee next to the ice giant, as if to compete in loyalty to their lord.
The witchers, Fritjof and Yennefer, on the other hand, showed a mixture of astonishment and bewilderment on their faces. Their hearts were pounding, overwhelmed by a wave of indescribable emotions.
At that instant, from among the charred remains of the ice giant's armor, a blackened figure of oak wood fell rolling down.
It was a grotesque carving, with features that oscillated between those of a bear and those of a human being, with its claws extended in a threatening pose.
Fritjof sighed, his expression fluctuating between resignation and relief. "I think I finally know where Artis went…"
He looked at the ice giant, who still had traces of druidic magic on his body, and seeing his reverent attitude towards Lann, he shook his head and swallowed the rest of his words.
Then the colossal creature, perhaps uncomfortable in its submissive posture, shifted slightly to accommodate itself. In the process, its foot landed with a dry thud on the charred oak figure, crushing it to the ground and sinking it into the snow.
