The Witcher – Uchiha Madara!

[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]

Third Person POV

Northern kingdoms.

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Another explosion happened at that moment as both magical energies collided in midair, causing yet another explosion.

"We can't keep going like this!!" From the camp of the Nordic sorcerers, someone exclaimed in a slightly weak and nervous tone.

"This is getting difficult…" Another murmured, looking at all his companions, breathing heavily, seeing that the situation was quite grim…

"We should retreat… at this rate, we'll die here… three of us have already fallen!" someone pleaded, while everyone had conflicted expressions at hearing this; after all, no one wanted to die, and they would lose as soon as they exhausted all their energy.

"We can't abandon the North!" an old man exclaimed.

"He's right… if we leave here… they'll be able to attack the northern armies, and our mission will fail… condemning many lives in the process," another spoke.

"But what's the point in staying if we're going to die?!" Keira exclaimed, tired and nervous.

The group was in total despair, almost splitting into two sides, with the side wanting to flee able to quickly create a portal and disappear. But they would also be branded as cowards for the rest of their lives—though they would live, at least.

"We can defeat them!" someone tried to argue.

"There's at least twice as many mages over there; we're screwed…" another, very fearful, said.

"Behind us!" Coral spoke, sensing someone approaching while a spell was being cast on the other side by the mages, as she saw someone riding toward them.

"I come as a friend!" Geralt raised his hands as he reached the group, stopping his horse and looking between them and the spells on the other side, nearly ready to be unleashed against them again.

"Geralt!" Triss exclaimed, stunned to see him there. Other sorceresses also looked surprised to see him in such an unlikely place—a magical battle atop a mountain. Madara hadn't mentioned him either.

"What are you doing here?!" Triss spoke again, frowning as she had to split her focus between the witcher and the magic being prepared to strike them.

"I'm here to help." He spoke, trying to sound as natural as possible while dismounting the horse. But the mages looked at him with suspicion, clearly wondering how he had appeared there or who had sent him.

"Yennefer." He spoke with a more urgent tone, seeming to read the expressions on their faces, keeping a serious look, doing so to avoid raising further suspicions. "She sent me. She asked me to follow you, and I also found an acquaintance who informed me where you were. He's here too, in the Sodden Hills." He continued, observing them and trying to be as quick as possible.

"Madara?" Keira asked, raising an eyebrow. The group already suspected Madara had spoken with them.

"And how can a witcher help us in a fight where we're about to die?" a man exclaimed, clearly disliking the idea of working with a witcher in such a desperate situation.

"Can you send me close to them, preferably behind them? I can hit them from that side and take down a few." Geralt suggested, as everyone exchanged glances.

"That could be a good way to turn the situation around, but we need to prepare for their attack now, or we'll die," Coral exclaimed, and all the mages ignored Geralt at that moment, focusing on preparing their spells, matching the power of the spells the others might cast, drawing more energy from chaos due to the smaller group.

Again, explosions erupted in the sky as the energies clashed, but now the northern mages were getting much weaker, starting to lose the advantage.

As the energies exploded in the sky, some enemy spells managed to pass through, meeting no resistance, advancing toward the camp. Geralt and the mages, creating a Quen shield, tried to protect themselves.

"Ah!" someone screamed in pain, falling to the ground, bleeding after taking a direct hit. The others tried to shield themselves, covering their faces as various parts of the terrain exploded, lucky not to be hit.

Things began to calm down as Geralt deactivated his shield and surveyed the scene, seeing a fallen mage screaming in pain while another had a burned arm, though nothing severe.

On the other side, a new light began to shine, preparing another spell—perhaps the one that could kill them.

"We have to send him," Triss said, realizing it was their only chance.

"But even if we send him, another of their attacks will get through, and some of us will die," another exclaimed in fear, watching his comrade groaning in pain on the ground.

"We have no choice; we must do this for the North," another mage declared intensely.

"Yes!" Triss nodded, and Keira looked at her, stunned.

"Are you sure about this? Even knowing you might die here?" Keira questioned.

"Yes, we must reach the top of the mountain and destroy their plan, even if we'd rather get out of here right now," Triss reaffirmed, and everyone began to feel a certain confidence as a sense of self-sacrifice emerged among them, knowing that this was what they were about to do.

"Alright then. Get ready. We're going to fight!" The tension was rising in everyone.

"Geralt, it's been a long time… though I'm surprised to see you, we don't have time to talk… now, come here. I'll take you to the other side. You'll have a better chance of taking down those mages as soon as they cast their spell. Don't waste this opportunity," Coral said, and Geralt nodded as he approached the sorceress.

All the other Northern sorcerers began preparing their attack, chanting together as their magic glowed. Geralt saw a portal open in front of him. He took a deep breath before running toward it, stepping through.

He emerged on the other side of the battlefield in the middle of a dark forest, feeling a slight dizziness from the portal. Upon spotting the mages about 50 meters away, preparing their magic, he pushed aside his disorientation and ran toward them—there were at least 30 of them, and he had the advantage of not being detected.

Wasting no time, despite his blurred vision from the portal, he sprinted as they began to launch spells, magic rising to the sky. From the camp of the Northern sorcerers, explosions also erupted, clashing with the enemy energy, and as before, losing again, while flashes of light fell on the Nordic sorcerers' side, exploding everything in their path.

"We'll destroy them soon!" shouted the Nilfgaardians. Although Geralt couldn't understand the language, it was pretty obvious what they were saying. But he ignored it as he closed in on the first enemy, who didn't even have time to react before his head was severed. He quickly moved to the second mage, who also didn't notice what had happened to his companion next to him, distracted by the explosions in front of them.

While the spells continued to echo with explosions on the other mages, hoping to eliminate them, Geralt advanced through the group, killing as many mages as possible while remaining undetected—after all, he was incredibly fast, and the mages didn't expect such an attack.

But as the Nilfgaardians celebrated, they suddenly heard screams behind them. "AHHHH!!!" Someone saw Geralt kill his companion and immediately shouted.

"Enemy attack! Kill that…" Another shouted as he noticed as well, but he didn't have time to finish his sentence before crying out in pain, engulfed in flames as Geralt made an Igni sign in the air.

Geralt was already advancing on his tenth target, slashing as the mage stumbled backward.

"What are you doing?! Kill him!!" the leader shouted, watching Geralt take down ten mages behind him and move on to the next.

"Die!!" Two mages prepared to launch a quick attack, and Geralt quickly used the Aard sign, sending the two mages flying directly into a tree. They hit hard, their bones breaking on impact, and collapsed unconscious on the ground.

The mages quickly backed away, frightened to see the witcher eliminate two of them so effortlessly. "Quick, start casting spells!" someone exclaimed.

They began to prepare a group attack spell, and Geralt, now a distance away from them, quickly used the Quen sign to create a shield. But it wasn't enough; the attacks from eighteen mages shattered his shield, sending him flying backward and rolling down a hill on that side.

He felt intense pain in his ribs, but he knew he couldn't stop. More attacks were coming his way as he got up to run, moving through the darkness, trying to dodge while the ground around him exploded with every type of magic—lightning, fire…

"Quick! Quick! We need to kill him!" the Nilfgaardian mages shouted, furious that this witcher had left only eighteen of them able to fight, as they tried to hit him.

"Hey, look! The northern sorcerers are trying to launch another attack!" one of them exclaimed, noticing the light glowing from the camp, although weaker than before, as some of the mages had fallen in the last assault as well.

A magical explosion erupted in their direction. Geralt quickly pulled back, watching the entire area burst into flames as the mages cried out in pain, trying to raise protective shields.

Geralt frowned. It seemed like the northern mages didn't even care whether he was there or not, sacrificing themselves willingly while keeping the Nilfgaardians occupied. But he couldn't complain and quickly moved to assess the situation as five more Nilfgaardian mages fell, leaving only twelve.

"We should retreat!" someone shouted, looking at the fallen bodies around them, some of them blown apart, but most cut down by a blade before they even had a chance to react.

Geralt drew his crossbow and fired at another mage as soon as he found a good position, hitting him in the neck. The enemy collapsed to the ground, while the others looked in that direction, seeing the witcher still alive and fighting them.

Geralt tried to move to another position to strike them from a different angle, throwing them off-balance, as he had to face both sides.

However, Geralt barely had time to react when a portal opened behind him, with some mages fleeing and launching a point-blank attack at him. He groaned in pain as he was hit, falling to the ground and gritting his teeth in agony.

"Damn witcher, die, you son of a—!" one of the mages shouted, preparing a fire spell to destroy his body. But he didn't finish before something struck his neck at high speed, causing him to let out only a silent gasp before falling, a kunai embedded in his throat.

His companion beside him was stunned, and before he could react, he too was struck in the head, dying instantly.

Geralt watched the whole scene in surprise as Madara landed beside him, observing him in silence. Neither of them said a word.

Madara simply turned his back on him and then leapt again into a tree, advancing toward the last mages who were trying to open portals to flee.

He quickly made several hand seals before breathing fire, forming flaming dragons with open jaws, using a bit of the chakra that the original Madara had shared with him.

The mages only managed to see the flash and hear the dragons' roars as they were annihilated in fiery explosions, thus finishing off the Nilfgaardian mages.

"Is it over?" Madara couldn't help but ask, seeing all the Nilfgaardian mages dead, dying even as they raised shields, but Madara's flames were too powerful.

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Raccoon Here: Attention, everyone: I won't be posting anything during the week from the 25th to the 1st, as I'll be taking some personal time off. 

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