The Witcher: Astartes Of The Bear School

Chapter 62: Surrounded

Their coordination was impeccable, far superior to the brain-addled cannibals. 

Lan silently assessed the difficulty of his opponents. Just four of them had managed to corner him, forcing him to take a direct hit from a warhammer. 

And now, more than twenty men had gathered in the detention area, ready to transport their "cargo." 

This didn't even account for the others in the northern half of the camp, who would soon join the fray upon hearing their comrades' shouts. 

If not for this unexpected turn of events, these men would have been silently slaughtered in their sleep. 

'Damn it!' 

Criminals had no qualms about using hostages as leverage. 

But perhaps because the children were valuable, or because they were confident in their numbers and strength, the men hadn't harmed White. Instead, they had herded him aside, waiting to deal with Lan before shipping him off. 

"A mutant saving someone? How peculiar!" 

The warhammer-wielding man laughed as he approached, but his weapon didn't pause for conversation. He swung the hammer down toward Lan's prone form, aiming for his back. 

"How much did they pay you? Tell me!" 

'Thud!' 

The hammerhead alone weighed over five Kilograms. Combined with the leverage of the long handle and the momentum of the swing, the impact was devastating. 

Even as Lan rolled away, the hammer struck the sandy ground with a deafening crash. 

In the midst of his roll, Lan's steel sword lashed out like a viper, aiming for the warhammer man's exposed abdomen. Even with the awkward angle, Lan was confident he could make the man regret his carelessness. 

But the warhammer man's recklessness was backed by his comrades. With a metallic clang, a sword extended from the side, intercepting Lan's strike. 

"Get lost!" 

A shield-bearer charged forward, roaring as he tried to pin Lan to the ground with his shield. 

The coordination among the three wasn't on par with professional soldiers, but their numbers made up for it. Lan's rhythm was completely disrupted. 

However, unlike the time he was dealing with Bordon, these three attackers inadvertently blocked the crossbowmen's line of fire. This gave Lan the freedom to use his left hand for Signs. 

A flicker of orange magical light appeared before his palm. 

"Igni!" 

Lan altered the flow of his mana, transforming the concentrated heat into a wave of fire. A fan-shaped blaze surged toward the three men. 

Unfamiliar with a witcher's Signs, the men's eyes widened in fear as the flames reflected in their pupils. The shield-bearer instinctively ducked behind his shield—a wise decision. 

The warhammer man and the swordsman weren't so lucky. The moment the flames touched them, they let out blood-curdling screams. 

"Ahhh!!!" 

When the fire subsided, their exposed skin was covered in angry red patches. At first glance, it looked like they had been slapped, but within minutes, those patches would swell into massive, painful blisters. 

In these unsanitary conditions, infection was inevitable—a death sentence. 

If they had worn more clothing instead of open fur jackets, the Igni Sign wouldn't have been so effective. 

Magical flames were intense but fleeting. 

The shield-bearer, having shielded himself, emerged unscathed. 

The warhammer and sword fell to the ground as their wielders writhed in agony. These two were effectively out of the fight. 

But just as Lan moved to finish them with a quick slash to the throat, three more shield-bearers charged forward, shoving their injured comrades aside. 

The combined force of the three men was too much for Lan to withstand. He was knocked backward, stumbling to the ground. 

In mid-air, two crossbow bolts streaked toward him. 

Lan's cat-like eyes narrowed to slits. With a single hand, he pushed off the ground, the buckles of his armor straining as he performed a backflip in full plate armor. 

One bolt missed entirely, while the other struck his side. 

Lan had deliberately positioned himself so the bolt would hit a reinforced section of his armor—a layer of plate over chainmail, cushioned by a gambeson. 

The bolt pierced the gambeson but clanged harmlessly against the plate, lodging itself in the padding. 

Lan landed with a grunt, his side twinging from the impact. Even with the armor, the force of the bolt had rattled his organs. 

The shield-bearers, witnessing this feat, hesitated, their eyes wide with disbelief. A man in full plate armor had just performed a one-handed backflip. 

"That's heavy armor! Get more bows and crossbows!" The men exchanged glances and nodded, shouting to their comrades. 

No one wanted to engage a heavily armored opponent in close combat. With bows and crossbows, they could take him down from a distance. 

The frontline fighters' words caused a stir among the others. The crossbowmen, standing farther back, couldn't see the effects of their shots in the dim light. But Lan's backflip had been unmistakable. The mention of heavy armor sparked both awe and excitement. 

To them, Lan was like a bear—a fearsome creature, but one that could be brought down by a coordinated hunting party. Some even began arguing over who would get to land the killing shot. 

Lan, hunched over and breathing heavily, slowly retreated. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes. 

The relentless assault, the overwhelming numbers, and the constant pressure had pushed even his enhanced body to its limits. 

His cat-like eyes darted around, searching for a way to turn the tide. 

White had been forced back into the wooden cage, kicked inside by one of the men. The boy wept, waving at Lan through the bars. But it wasn't a plea for rescue—it was a desperate gesture for Lan to flee. 

"What a fool." 

'I'm the only one who can save him, and he wants me to run? Why are people like this? Well, fools always act this way. That's why I don't listen to them.' 

'Thud.' 

Lan's back bumped against another wooden cage. He leaned against it, shielding his rear from the enemy. 

"Sorceress," he panted, addressing the figure inside the cage. 

"Feel like giving it a shot?" 

***

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