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TWL Chapter 295: Winds of Resolve, Chains of Fear
🕑 Added 2025-01-25 16:15:14 +0000 UTC"Why didn't you help just now?"
Milva turned her attention to a group of sirens, aiming her bow as an arrow pierced the chest of a siren flapping its wings not far away. She then reloaded an arrow as she cast a stern look back.
There, sheltering her from the icy wind, was Bill, transformed into a giant bear.
After returning to An Skellig, Lann subjected Bill to a simple test. He discovered that he could not only control his transformation into a berserker, but that he could also maintain his sanity while transformed. However, during the recent battle with the sirens, Bill had shown a hesitant attitude.
As he locked eyes with the angry Milva, the huge bear let out a sound similar to the cracking of bones. Shortly after, his figure transformed into that of a human.
Looking at the dying siren on the ground, Bill looked away with a pained expression. "Everything else is fine… but them… I don't want to hurt them."
Milva clicked her tongue in irritation, but didn't press him further. She knew Bill's history and understood his reluctance. Furthermore, during the fight, the berserker had withstood the attack of several drowners and rotfiends, creating opportunities for her to eliminate enemies from a distance. Despite his hesitation with the sirens, his help had been invaluable to Milva.
"Forget it, the real problem now is them..." Milva looked up, there were still enemies there.
There, the remaining sirens were flying at altitudes unreachable by arrows. Although Lann's magic sign had shot down most of them, a few had managed to escape and were attempting to flee. While that small number no longer posed a significant threat, Milva, who had followed Lann the entire time, was used to exterminating all enemies, so she couldn't help but feel dissatisfied.
However, Milva's troubles soon disappeared.
…
At some point, without anyone noticing, thick clouds began to cover the sky above them.
Fritjof stood up. His oak staff began to extend luminous roots, connecting him to the energy of the entire island. Moments later, the roar of thunder filled the air, followed by a torrent of wind and rain.
Although the impact was not as immediate as Lann's sign, the storm created by Fritjof had a much greater reach. The sirens, caught in the turbulence, lost control of their movements and began to fall.
Although the sirens were used to flying in adverse weather conditions, the sudden change in the weather caught them off guard. Although they tried to take flight again, it was too late: they were too close to the ground.
Eist coldly ordered his adjutant: "Blow the horn and shoot arrows."
The archers, who were already prepared, unleashed a shower of arrows that pierced the creatures as they descended. The sound of shredding wings and bodies falling to the ground filled the battlefield.
None were left alive.
From that moment on, the coasts near the Skellige Islands would no longer suffer the threat of the sirens.
Fritjof opened his eyes and exhaled deeply.
Following Lann's astonishing magical sign, combined with the soldiers' efforts to eliminate what was left on land, only a handful of sirens were trying to escape. Although letting them go would pose no threat to the residents of Skellige, Fritjof chose to eradicate them completely.
The reason was simple: Not far away, several mangled corpses lay, dressed in the remains of druid robes.
"Nature's way..." Fritjof muttered under his breath.
…
Lann's body shook, and intense pain and exhaustion took over his mind, as if he had gone three days and three nights without sleep.
Fortunately, there was no longer a need for him to take care of the rest of the battlefield; the soldiers had begun to eliminate the rest of the creatures that now no longer posed a threat.
Eist strode over and, noticing the paleness of Lann's face, asked worriedly, "Are you okay?"
Lann shook his head, and as he was about to speak Fritjof approached from the side.
"This must be the first time he's released such a massive amount of magic all at once. He's exhausted. With a little meditation he'll recover," the druid explained, finally getting Eist to calm down.
A drop of rain fell on the battlefield, followed by a torrential downpour. This change in weather also helped to contain the rotfiends' explosions, making it easier for the soldiers to finish off the monsters.
However, there were not too many monsters on land. Perhaps because the ice giant, with his speed, had advanced much further than the rest of the monsters, who could not cross the mountains with the same speed. The sirens were the only ones who managed to arrive in time. For the island of Undvik, this was a stroke of luck in the midst of so much misfortune.
Fritjof looked at the frozen flesh fragments scattered across the battlefield and exclaimed in admiration, "I've said this many times, but I'll say it again: Mousesack was too modest in his praise of you, Lann. I thought you would need my guidance to become a Master, but now I see that you are already developing your skills on your own."
"A storm of this magnitude is beyond the reach of many experienced druids and sorcerers."
No rituals, no incantations, no auxiliary magical materials. With just one movement, Lann had unleashed a freezing storm capable of engulfing the entire battlefield, powerful enough to tear the sirens to pieces. Even Fritjof was impressed.
"I haven't killed many," Lann said, counting in his head and with humility. "Dozens at most? Most of them were shot down by my storm, but the soldiers finished them off. That only works against sirens; if they were other creatures, it wouldn't have been as effective. Compared to that... You really have amazed me."
Lann pointed at the dark clouds in the sky. Despite having cast a weather spell that covered the entire island, Fritjof still seemed calm. No one doubted he could do it again if he put his mind to it.
"That's because I channeled the energy of nature, using rituals and incantations to supply me with the magical power necessary. But to do so, we need time, preparation, and soldiers to protect us. Often, our abilities as Vaedermakar are used to pray for rain in times of drought or to calm raging storms at sea."
The druid shook his head and added, "Lann, you are also a Source Mage, right? However, your handling of magic power is still somewhat crude..."
He looked at the scattered remains on the battlefield again, and after a brief pause, he chuckled. "Though perhaps this type of use is the most suitable for the battlefield."
The soldiers had begun to clear the battlefield and rescue the wounded. Lann's squires, noticing his condition, quickly led the Cintra cavalry to surround him. Lann, sitting on his heels, closed his eyes and began to meditate, regaining his magical energy.
Meanwhile, Kolgrim, with his silver sword, beheaded a siren. The snake-like corpse transformed into the mangled body of a beautiful young woman, causing him to shake his head in regret.
At that moment Coen walked past him. Kolgrim noticed this and pointed towards Lann and said: "It's getting more and more exaggerated. Tell me, Coen, could you also..."
Coen ignored him and continued on, helping the wounded soldiers.
…
Lann closed his eyes and meditated to restore his magic power.
Eist, seeing his soldiers tending to the wounded and maintaining order, turned his gaze towards the main objective of his mission: the Tordarroch clan.
Yoana, the golden-haired girl, with the help of her clan guards, removed the armor damaged during the battle. Some pieces were so deformed that when removed, they revealed fresh wounds. The cuts bled profusely, causing feelings of guilt among the guards.
However, Yoana remained unfazed, revealing her arms marked with scars from burns and cuts. She was clearly not a spoiled noblewoman.
Her hands were covered in thick calluses, something that made Eist nod inwardly. The Tordarroch clan's blacksmithing skills were legendary in the archipelago, and it seemed even the women had inherited that tradition.
However, Yoana did not wait for the guards to tend to her wounds and hurriedly ran to Eist.
"Lord Eist... no, Your Majesty."
Seeing the iron crown on Eist's head, Yoana reacted quickly, adjusting her way of addressing him.
“I am very sorry about what has happened here, Yoana,” Eist said, trying to comfort her as he noticed her worried expression. “We will do our best to help with the relief efforts. We have all understood the danger posed by the ice giant, and the armies of the other six clans are on their way. We will settle this problem once and for all for the Tordarroch clan.”
However, the words of comfort did not seem to calm Yoana, whose face remained tense.
Eist hesitated for a moment before asking, "Come to think of it... I haven't seen Harald. Is it possible that he already...?"
Before he could finish his sentence, Yoana interrupted him, visibly agitated: "Your Majesty, we can't wait for reinforcements to arrive! My father has been captured by the ice giant! He is in more danger with every passing minute. We have to save him right now!"
Eist had not seen Harald among those present, so he had assumed the worst: that he was dead, or perhaps something even more terrible. But now he received even more shocking information.
He had never heard of an ice giant capturing people before.
He was momentarily stunned, even though he considered that it would be easier to accept that the giant had devoured him.
"Please believe me! I'm not some deranged crazy woman who makes things up after a sudden trauma." Yoana protested, noticing the doubt in Eist's eyes. "I've never seen an ice giant before, but I never thought it could have... intelligence."
Remembering that immense figure made Yoana start to tremble involuntarily. Although she tried to maintain her composure, her body did not respond to her will.
