Psionic Ascension Starting with The Witcher

Noon passed quietly, and the sun shifted to a lower position, its brilliance blocked by the high mountains on both sides of the valley. Naturally, the valley also dimmed, becoming a shady place.

After a brief reorganization, the hundred cavalrymen formed a square. Baldas raised his longsword high, with a knight carrying a large banner closely following beside him.

He shouted loudly, and under his leadership, the Nilfgaardian soldiers sang a rousing military song.

They sang "Gods Save the Emperor" and simultaneously drew their longswords.

The incident happened suddenly, and they were urgently summoned and traveled through the night, so they were unable to bring their beloved warhammers or put horse armor on their horses.

However, the rows of towering swords and neatly arranged black armor appeared even more intimidating from a distance.

The melody of "Gods Save the Emperor" begins gently and gradually builds to a more stirring tone.

Baldas pulled down his armor, and a black, merciless iron mask replaced his youthful face. On the left side of the mask, a line of letters was engraved—"mail-sayiis".

When the song reached its climax, accompanied by the line "Gods bless the Empire," he moved.

He took the lead, charging ahead of everyone else. Behind him, a black-clad horde of people surged forward relentlessly.

Hundreds of hooves thundered across the land, the rumbling echoing through the valley. The slight tremors of the ground gave Effensor, in the distance, the illusion that the earth was shaking.

A hundred men in formation already possess such imposing power; when they charge, it's like a tidal wave crashing down. How magnificent would it be if it were an army of thousands?

Brondan put on his helmet, and the greatsword, which should have been held with both hands, was raised with one hand. There was no pre-battle mobilization, no encouragement; all they saw was him charging fearlessly ahead of the advancing black cavalry phalanx.

Like Don Quixote charging at a windmill, like a mantis trying to stop a carriage, like an ant trying to shake a tree.

Brøndane looked so small, as if he would be swallowed up at any moment, but he still pressed forward without hesitation.

Effensor patted his mount, this was the horse's first time on the battlefield, and perhaps its last.

"I'm sorry I haven't given you a name yet. I thought you'd end up like your ex, dying within a few months for various reasons..."

He spoke softly, but the horse turned its head and licked his hand, seemingly unconcerned.

The rest of the people followed Bronn. Effensor looked into the distance, then, without further hesitation, grasped the runestone.

A chilling magical energy emanated from the runestone. Once a stable connection was established, Effensor put the runestone back into his pocket.

A layer of pale blue frost appeared on his sword, and a faint chill emanated from it.

Even in the sweltering summer heat, Affenzo shivered from the cold.

Then, he drank two bottles of medicine, Thunder and Swallow, and black veins appeared on his face.

"drive!"

He flicked the reins, and the horse, understanding his meaning, began to gallop away, carrying him.

The wind whistled past his ears, and all other noises were fading away from him.

As the speed increased and the distant enemy drew closer, Effensor's focus became extremely intense.

At this moment, he could only hear his own heartbeat and the sound of the wind, and all he could see were the black-armored cavalry getting closer and closer.

Effensor could see the youthful faces of those people, who seemed to be young people under twenty, but their faces were full of fanaticism and bloodlust.

Closer and closer.

Effensor could see them raise their longswords, ready to slit his neck in the event of contact.

He could see Brondan and his men clashing violently with the Nilfgaardian cavalry, with four or five falling from their horses in just one encounter.

Effensor also raised his sword.

The sounds around me became clear, and the world suddenly seemed to shrink from the farthest distance to the closest.

The roars, screams, shouts, and neighing of horses—these sounds intertwined, illustrating the chaos of the battlefield.

Five Nilfgaards faced Effinso, wielding longswords as they passed him.

"Whoosh!"

Effensor bent down; he wasn't wearing full-body armor and didn't have the qualifications to fight head-on with others.

The first two enemies missed their targets, and Effensor's steel sword also failed to hit them directly, instead opening a large gash in the neck of one of the men's horses.

Although the last three enemies did not harm Effensor himself, his mount took the blows for him.

"boom!"

The sound of two horses falling to the ground rang out almost simultaneously, but the unlucky Nilfgaard was caught with one leg trapped under the horse, while Effinso had anticipated this and jumped off in advance.

Upon landing, Effensor didn't even bother to steady himself. He adjusted his magic output slightly and slammed his left hand down on the ground.

"Bang!"

A circular shockwave emanated from Effensor, spreading out within a five-meter radius, instantly knocking down three Nilfgaardian cavalrymen and clearing the battlefield around Effensor in an instant.

At this moment, the melee has fully commenced.

The two sides were mixed together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other.

Effensor was also part of the melee.

Enemies are everywhere, so there's no need to distinguish between friend and foe.

"For the Emperor!"

A soldier roared and charged at Effensor, but in the instant the two clashed, Effensor skillfully knocked the sword out of his hand.

"Ald!"

Effensor swiftly freed his left hand and used the Reverse Aard Signet to pull the soldier off his horse. The soldier, wearing armor weighing dozens of kilograms, crashed heavily to the ground, while Effensor stomped heavily on the soldier's helmet.

The kick knocked the soldier's helmet askew, exposing his unprotected throat.

The blade flashed across the surface, and blood spurted out instantly, splattering all over Effensor, even covering his face with bloodstains.

After dealing with one of them, before they could even catch their breath, the three soldiers who had been knocked off their horses by Effensor using Alder rescued the unfortunate fellow whose leg was pinned down by the horse, and the four of them surrounded Effensor.

At this distance, there was no time to use alchemical bombs or sign spells, leaving Effinso with no choice but to confront them head-on.

"clang!"

Their swords clashed, and Effensor used the force to deflect the opponent's weapon. Taking advantage of a soldier's open stance, he kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. He then ducked to avoid another sword strike. Facing the attacks that followed, Effensor could only barely parry before retreating immediately.

His sudden retreat caused one of the attackers to miss his target, losing his balance. Effensor seized the opportunity, stabbing the man in the face the moment he looked up, slicing his mouth apart. As the flesh severed from its connection, his jaw also detached, leaving his mangled mouth stretched wide open, a grotesque and terrifying sight.

Effensor took a short breath and then launched an attack.

"clang!"

Once again, the two swords crossed, but this time, the Nilfgaardian soldiers on the other side noticed something was wrong.

He felt so cold; it was summer, but it felt like winter.

Frost spread along Effensor's steel sword, instantly freezing the soldier's arm armor and rendering his joints unable to bend. Another soldier's swing forced Effensor to parry, saving the soldier's life.

The next moment, Effensor suddenly crouched down, dodging another sword strike from the enemy, and then grabbed the enemy in front of him around the waist and tackled him to the ground.

Then, as before, Effensor stepped on the soldier's helmet, making him dizzy and exposing his neck.

With a swift movement of the sword, blood gushed forth.

At this moment, the soldier whose arm was frozen awkwardly raised his sword and tried in vain to block Effensor, but then he saw purple light shine on Effensor's hand, and three purple Arden chains grabbed his ankles and threw him to the ground.

He tried to get up quickly, but his half-kneeling posture when he got up gave Effensor a perfect opportunity.

"Whoosh!"

The soldier looked up, and a cold glint appeared in his line of sight.

The steel sword was swung high and then fell, sending a fine head flying high into the air.

Effensor took less than a minute to deal with the two men.

He twirled his sword and charged toward the remaining two.

When the soldier who was initially kicked down finally managed to stand up with the weight of dozens of kilograms, he saw that the guy who had almost lost his jaw was stabbed again by Effensor in the same spot, this time deeper, severing his cervical vertebrae.

The man's almost severed neck was only connected by a bit of skin, flesh, and bone. As his head tilted and fell limply onto his shoulder, his body also collapsed powerlessly.

In the blink of an eye, four against one became one against one.

The outcome was predictable: the last soldier was easily kicked to the ground by Effensor after a few rounds, his neck strangled by chains formed by the Arden sign. As the chains tightened, with a snap, his cervical vertebrae broke inch by inch, and he immediately stopped struggling, his body going limp.

However, it's easy to dodge a spear in the open, but hard to guard against an arrow in the dark. The next moment, Effensor heard a "whoosh" sound, followed by a sharp pain in his buttocks.

"Well!"

He staggered a step, looked back down, and found a crossbow bolt stuck in his buttocks.

He immediately looked around, but the arrow did not seem to be aimed at him; it should just be a stray arrow from the battlefield.

Effensor could only curse "Damn it!" before swinging his sword to cut the arrowhead. The next moment, a large group of Nilfgaardian cavalry charged toward him.

A Sintra soldier whom Effensor knew was being dragged along the ground, motionless, and appeared to have long since lost his life.

"ryaaaaa!!!"

These soldiers had completely descended into rage and bloodlust.

In fact, they had already completed one charge and broken through Affinso and his men's defenses. However, they chose to turn back and charge back again.

Baldas's throat was almost hoarse from shouting, but the soldiers, who were fully engaged, completely ignored him and disregarded his orders.

It was only then that Baldas realized that, as a temporary commander, he lacked both sufficient prestige and a formidable title. Normally, his orders would be carried out without hindrance. However, on the battlefield, in the midst of chaos, he had absolutely no ability to stop his bloodthirsty soldiers.

Especially with the addition of two troublemakers, Effensor and Brondan, to the enemy ranks. In the eyes of these soldiers, these two, though outnumbered, had killed several of their comrades, and revenge was imperative!

Seeing the enemy rapidly approaching, Effensor knew that this was not something an Alder could handle.

Without hesitation, he reached for his waist and grasped a gold bomb labeled with a light blue tag.

He had only one of these bombs on him.

It is rare and precious, made from the best materials, and a wizard from Ban Ade was invited to improve it.

The label had one word on it: "North Wind".

"Whoosh!"

The bomb was thrown by Effensor, and in the instant it exploded, it displayed unparalleled power.

This bomb, which Effensor had treasured for many years, was finally used and proved its worth.

The Nilfgaardian cavalrymen at the front were instantly turned into ice sculptures, horse and all. Icy magic covered their armor and seeped into their flesh. As they lost their balance and fell, both men and horses shattered into frozen chunks, like corpses frozen on a snow-covered mountain.

At this moment, the horrific scene instantly shocked the cavalrymen behind them, pulling them out of their frenzy and making them truly feel fear.

However, by then, it was too late to run.

"Ald!"

With a roar, Effensor unleashed a mental shockwave that swept through the area like a hurricane, knocking all the remaining people off their horses.

He drew his sword and charged forward.

The Nilfgaards retreated in disarray, terrified by the strange magic they had just witnessed, and were momentarily overwhelmed by fear.

As Effensor passed by the Sintra man who had been dragged along, he glanced down and found that the man was still staring, his eyes darting around.

He seemed unable to move or even speak. It could be due to a broken spine or a brain injury.

Effensor quickly crouched down.

"Brother..." he said with a hint of regret. He had chatted with this man the night before last, drinking and eating the dried meat he had brought, which was supposedly made with a family recipe and tasted quite good.

The Sintra soldier on the ground rolled his eyes, blinking repeatedly, before turning his eyes in one direction.

Effensor followed his gaze and saw a Nilfgaardian soldier struggling to get up.

"Kill him?" Effensor asked, turning around and making a throat-slitting gesture. "Did he do this to you?"

The Sintra soldier frowned, a look of anger on his face, his eyelids blinking incessantly, his eyes constantly darting in that direction, as if urging Affinso on.

"it is good."

Effensor nodded and stood up.

"As your last wish, I'll treat it as a commission." He twirled his sword and limped forward, a broken crossbow bolt still stuck in his buttocks.

"The commission is revenge, and the reward is your gratitude."

When the Sintra soldiers saw that Effensor had finally set off, they seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Their furrowed brows relaxed, and they closed their eyes in peace, awaiting their death.

The Nilfgaardians nearby quickly reacted, and taking advantage of their numerical superiority, they launched an attack, charging towards Effensor with their weapons in hand.

Meanwhile, Brøndane is already embroiled in a fierce battle.

He was knocked off his horse early on, and as a former Sintra knight, his foot combat skills were far superior to his mounted combat skills.

Brondaen's armor was too conspicuous; the Cintra lion head on his chest immediately reminded the Nilfgaardian cavalry of the Cintra knights they had fought alongside, and the rewards for killing those knights.

They flocked there, only to find they had targeted the wrong place.

That greatsword was terrifying; it seemed to be made of some kind of magical material. Even though it couldn't cut through the Nilfgaardian armor, it remained unscathed after millions of collisions under Brondann's ferocious swings, without even a nick.

Under the immense power of Bronn, the greatsword swept across everything around him, easily knocking off the Nilfgaard knights who surrounded him or dared to charge at him.

Then, the greatsword would either smash their helmets flat, head and all, or cut into the weak points of their armor, striking their vitals.

Corpses fell one by one, filled with resentment, while soldiers, believing they had found an opportunity, charged forward one after another.

As Baldas watched Brondaen fight with increasing ferocity, his anxiety grew.

This guy is inhuman. Not only is he incredibly strong, but he also looks completely unaffected after being shot with two arrows.

This, however, stirred up some strange emotions in Baldas, probably... annoyance.

The northern barbarians he despised were actually able to fight ten against one and single-handedly beat the imperial soldiers so badly they couldn't even lift their heads.

This is impossible!

Valdas got a little carried away.

He immediately gave the order to continue the encirclement and slaughter of the enemy. He refused to believe that this Sintra man could kill them all by himself!

When he turned his head and saw Effensor also wreaking havoc, all the emotions in his heart were instantly reduced to one thing—an explosive rage exploded in Baldas's heart.

He shouted at one of his trusted knights, who was standing beside him.

"He's not a mage! Damn it, these idiots!"

"That's a witcher! Are these idiots and foolish villagers the same? They think anyone who can use magic is a wizard or a sorcerer!"

"My lord!" a deep, muffled voice came from beneath the knight's visor, "We must kill him!"

"nonsense!"

Baldas continued roaring, grabbing a young man beside him and yelling in his face, "Now, immediately! Kill that damned witcher! We don't have any anti-magic gold, so you'll have to stop his damned magic!"

"Fight magic with magic! Don't let the Empire down! Go now!"

The young man was timid and hesitant, seemingly wanting to say something, but looking at Baldas's stern face, all the words he couldn't utter were reduced to a single sentence.

"Yes, my lord."

Then he rode away.

Baldas's confidant couldn't help but say, "My lord, he's just a mage apprentice. Look at him, he's so nervous he can't even cast a single spell, and he almost set himself on fire."

"Furthermore, the brigadier general instructed us to take good care of him and not to send him to the battlefield, so..."

"Shut up!"

Valdas glared at him, interrupting him.

"So what?" Baldas was still furious. "First! No favoritism! No! Second! Besides him, is there anyone else who can handle that witcher? Or are we going to scramble a large number of people, leave this damned guy alone, and focus all our efforts on rounding up that lowly witcher?"

"Hmm, maybe we can concentrate our forces and kill that witcher first..."

When he saw that his confidant was actually starting to consider this possibility, Baldas's anger flared up again.

"Are you an idiot too?! Both of them are such good fighters, wouldn't it all end the same whether we ganged up on either of them???"

"It's better to let magic fight magic!"

……

Affinso felt exhausted, which was very bad news.

After Effensor killed several more of them, these Nilfgaardian soldiers finally learned to be fearful and became cautious. They formed a circle around Effensor and even took out crossbows, attempting to kill him from a distance.

This was obviously useless. Effensor could easily break through the encirclement with a single Alder Sigil, but the people quickly surrounded him again. If he tried to take the opportunity to inflict some casualties on the enemy, they would join forces to fight him, and if anyone fell to the ground and was injured, they would be quickly rescued.

This united, persistent tactic was indeed very effective. Effensor found it difficult to leave, and these people were cautious and did not take the initiative to attack, which really stumped him.

When a sudden arrow struck Effensor in the shoulder, the Nilfgaardian soldiers cheered in unison.

Then they united even more closely to deal with Affinso...

Effensor found it unbelievable that these people actually intended to use crossbows to shoot him from the shadows until he died.

Are we fighting a boss here?

He looked around and saw almost no other companions besides the Nilfgaardians.

The battlefield was littered with corpses; at least thirty Nilfgaardians had fallen. The fertile black earth was soaked with blood. If these corpses had been left behind, those who planted crops on this land next year would surely have had a bountiful harvest.

Blood has flowed like a river.

Their battle took place near a stream, where people often fell by the stream, their blood flowing down and blooming into bright red flowers in the water.

Whenever one person bleeds out, another person will take their place.

On the verdant grassland, this red river of blood stands out so conspicuously, as if tied with a red ribbon.

There seemed to be another encirclement in the distance, which was probably where Brundane was located. Besides that, there were many people fighting on horseback. Effensor saw Drakarov. The old man was really skilled. He rode his horse with ease and agility. His white beard was stained with blood, but he didn't have a single wound on his body. This blood naturally belonged to the enemy.

However, given the intense fighting on their side, they couldn't spare the time to rescue either Affinso or Brondan.

Just as he was distracted, a crossbow bolt flew at the perfect moment, striking him in the abdomen before Effensor could react.

"Um……"

Effensor let out a muffled groan and quickly snapped the arrow shaft in two, just like the previous two arrows.

He knew he couldn't delay any longer.

The numerical disadvantage was insurmountable. Even if he killed a dozen people by himself, it would be to no avail. As casualties on both sides increased rapidly, the numerical disadvantage actually widened further.

It is necessary to deal with these people as soon as possible... and then escape the encirclement quickly.

He didn't want to be dragged to his death in this place.

As Effensor was still pondering how to break the deadlock, he suddenly felt a chill in his heart, and then lunged to the left without hesitation.

"Boom!"

A loud explosion rang in his ears, even causing tinnitus.

When Effensor looked up, he saw a large crater on the ground, created by an explosion, with magical flames burning inside.

Of course, there were also several Nilfgaardian soldiers lying motionless on the ground nearby.

Effensor was astonished, but then he heard a stuttering voice.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry!"

He was a mage apprentice, and he waved his hand, expressing his apology to the soldiers who were glaring at him.

"I didn't control it well! But I really didn't mean to! Actually, this is the first time I've successfully cast this spell outside the classroom..."

Why are there even monks here!

Where did this sorcerer come from!

Effensor cursed inwardly, "Why is a mage here?!"

If he had time to think of a suitable way to escape the encirclement just now, Effensor now felt that his countdown to death had begun—he had no time left!

The knife was already at his neck; every second that passed meant the knife would penetrate even deeper into his flesh. Once the mage cast his second spell, Effensor's death would be imminent.

We must, immediately, right now, get out of this awkward and dangerous situation.

In a flash, Effensor made his decision. He pressed down on the ground, and a cylindrical Quen sign rose up.

This Quen Seal completely abandons mobility; although one cannot move while casting it, it possesses unparalleled defensive power.

Upon seeing this, the soldiers outside swarmed forward, frantically slashing at the Quen shield with their swords, but they only dimmed the brilliance of the Quen Seal, showing no signs of breaking.

Effensor originally intended to create a massive Aard Sigil, just like the first one in the forest.

But when he caught a glimpse of the frost on his sword, he suddenly changed his mind.

This frost magic is extremely powerful and highly stable, and because it is supplied with magic by runestones, its consumption is very small.

If one strengthens the Seal of Aard with their left hand and guides this power into it, then the power can be further increased.

There was no time for him to hesitate; Effensor had already seen out of the corner of his eye that the sorcerer had started chanting incantations again.

He began to gather his magic, single-mindedly focused, his mind free of distractions.

He drew upon the power within the runestone and integrated it into the Aard Seal. However, the power from the runestone initially flowed like a trickle, but then rapidly expanded until it became a raging river.

Effensor suddenly realized that he had no control over the whole situation, but it was too late to stop.

The wolf head badge on his chest began to vibrate violently like never before.

cold.

It's cold.

He felt as if he had returned to his childhood, just like the time in Kaer Morhen in winter when he slipped and fell into a snow pit and couldn't climb out for an hour.

It was a chilling cold, a despairing cold.

The cold penetrated to the bone, making Effensor's breath as cold as the north wind, and frosting formed on the Quen shield.

His white hair turned blue, and his face became deathly pale, as white as snow, without a trace of blood.

When Effensor opened his eyes, his pupils and the whites of his eyes had turned a deep ice blue, his eyes resembling a pair of flawless sapphires.

In Effensor's eyes, the world was on fast forward; the height of summer vanished like the wind, autumn flashed by, the earth was covered in silver, and the mountains and forests were covered in snow.

The world is left with only an endless winter.

He uttered a barely audible word between his lips and teeth.

"Damn it..."