Bear School Astartes

The dark fog of negative energy is rapidly dissipating.

Behind the fog, Furinjira Veges is struggling to dig out her legs, which have already been crushed by dirt.

At this moment, unlike most of the warlocks from the south, this carefully groomed female warlock has dirt-covered hands, her meticulously manicured nails turned upwards from digging, and cold sweat flows from her forehead like pouring water, smudging her eyeshadow and face cream.

Within that soon-to-disappear dark fog, a long knife gleaming with a warm golden light ’whoosh’ flies out from inside.

The blade of the long knife penetrates Furinjira’s right shoulder as if it were slicing through butter, pinning her to the ground.

The female warlock grits her teeth, letting out a dying-like groan, with veins bulging on her temple.

But she dares not move an inch.

The Lady of the Lake’s Sword, a divine-made armament, is too sharp.

Given Furinjira’s current posture, logically, even a slight movement should have loosened the weapon pinned against her on the muddy ground.

Because the ground has already become blood-soaked mud, offering little stability.

Yet, the sharpness of the Lady of the Lake’s Sword makes Furinjira feel that even the slightest tremor would expand the wound in her bones and muscles as if slicing air.

Nevertheless, when the figure approached, Furinjira uncontrollably trembled, instinctively shrinking back.

”War makes everyone unbearably disheveled. Right, lady?”

Lann approaches from afar, speaking as he walks.

”Now both of your legs are fractured, right arm pierced. Casting spells is pretty much impossible, so don’t resist, wait to be captured.”

”After this war, your status in Niflgaard should rise, so don’t worry about your emperor abandoning you... Take the bandage, press it on the wound.”

Lann presses the hand of the dazed female warlock against her right shoulder, then quickly grips the knife handle and pulls it out.

”Ah!”

This time, Furinjira finally couldn’t hold back due to the sudden severe pain, her face twisted in agony.

”Wait...”

Furinjira calls out halfway, but Lann immediately moves towards Triss and Yennefer after pulling the knife.

In total, including talking time, he stays beside Furinjira for less than three seconds.

The reason for such haste is that Lann doesn’t care much about this southern female warlock.

After all, he doesn’t even know that she is distantly related to the Emperor of Niflgaard or closely related to the Duchess of Toussaint. Blood ties are more important than her caster identity.

Secondly, because Triss’s situation seems genuinely not good.

The skin exposed outside her clothes starts to burst into tiny flames.

Unlike flames normally made by a mage’s magic, these flames are causing Triss intense pain indiscriminately.

”Hey! Hey! Triss! Are you okay?”

Lann supports Triss’s shoulder, the Grandmaster Bear School Armor’s performance makes him not too afraid of these flames.

The dazed Triss is called back into focus by Lann: ”Lann... is that you?”

She speaks while gritting teeth, sounding incredibly painful.

”War... Yes! How goes the war? How long did I lose focus just now?”

”Don’t worry about that, the warlocks of Niflgaard have pretty much been dealt with. The Northern Alliance Army has won, only the battlefield cleanup remains.”

Dealt with?

Who ’dealt with’ them?

Just as Triss’s sense of responsibility prompts her to inquire further, another turn of events in her body leaves only her screams.

Now, not only are the flames not being suppressed by Triss’s regained focus, but they’ve started to burn even her clothes!

Seeing Triss is now in so much pain, she’s completely unable to speak, only scream. Lann has no idea what’s going on.

He can only seek the trembling in blindness Yennefer lying on the ground.

Although he doesn’t know this female warlock, it is evident that her relationship with Triss is good.

”Lady, what’s happening to Triss now?”

But at this moment Yennefer only curls into a ball, rejecting Lann’s light touch greeting. The sudden blindness amidst a perilous bloody battlefield induces indescribable fear.

”Don’t touch me! Who are you? Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

Yennefer’s struggle is intense, forcedly, Lann has to use the Yakxi Rune to try and soothe her spirit.

Typically, it is difficult for a demon hunter’s rune to affect a warlock.

This time is no different, Lann’s rune is even dispersed by Yennefer’s uncontrolled magic power.

But this female warlock seems to feel something from the rune’s wave, suddenly calming down, seeming to gain a bit of security: ”You’re... a demon hunter? Was that Yakxi for comfort?”

Does this female warlock have a connection with demon hunters?

In Lann’s mind, he habitually analyzes this conclusion.

But soon, he puts down this analysis.

”Yes, but now isn’t the time for that, lady! Triss needs help!”

Lann describes Triss’s situation to Yennefer during which Triss’s own screams are interspersed.

The experienced female warlock uses her confused mind to think briefly, then exclaims: ”Her magic power is out of control! It’s a spontaneous combustion phenomenon!”

Currently, Triss, her signature wine-red hair starts to burn, her clothes already completely burned away.

The bare-naked body curls on the ground.

Lann calmly asks: ”What do we do now? How can we help her? Magic power out of control sounds very tricky.”

”No way now! Either wait for her magic power to burn itself out or find several well-prepared great mages to suppress it.”

”Can’t you do it?”

”Usually, yes, but now...” Yennefer harshly wipes her eyes, seemingly wishing to dig out her eyeballs to see clearly.

Due to sudden blindness, her sense of balance went wrong.

Suppressing another great mage’s magic power? Sounds like telling jokes.

Yennefer can’t help, but she at least clears the situation.

Mentos quickly sorts out information and formulates a plan.

Lann simultaneously reviews the established plan, and finally, a decision passes with high feasibility.

The demon hunter comes to Triss, curled up screaming, at this time her hair already burned away.

”Listen carefully, Triss. Your magic power is out of control; we need to drain your magic power, or you could potentially burn yourself completely.”

Lann’s tone is calm and rational, nearly seeming unfeeling amidst Triss’s cries. But unmistakably, it is the best state of mind in handling emergencies.

Despite enduring the burning pain, Triss manages to nod slightly, indicating she hears.

”My sword can cut magic power, and to consume part of your internal magic power, I will later slash you. I’ll handle it well; you won’t be too badly hurt.”

”Soon, these flames surely weaken, but that alone isn’t enough, you must exhaustively release magic power; decide specifically how.”

No time to delay, Lann finishes then promptly pulls out the Lady of the Lake’s Sword.

In his eyes’ vertical pupils, pupils contract unstably, with the Sight observing Triss’s body magic power flow.

Scarily precise and stable swordsmanship level grasps that moment’s shift.

With a ”puz”, Lake Lady’s Sword’s blade penetrates Triss’s left chest beneath.

It’s the result of Lann’s dual considerations of magic power flow and injury seriousness.

Just as anticipated, blood loss isn’t much, but the flame enveloping Triss’s body suddenly thins significantly.

For the rest, it’s all up to Triss herself.

”Touch... touch me.”

During the painful cries’ midst, powerless mumbling reaches Lann’s ears.

Without hesitation to think, Lann immediately removes his armored gloves and grips Triss’s burning hand.

The previously pained expression of the female warlock suddenly shows improvement as if the burning pain is eased by other sensations.

Lann nods; though unaware of the principle, relieved pain should aid in spell casting smoothly.

Then, suddenly a transmission portal opens.

With Lann’s surprised gaze, it engulfs him and Triss together.