The Witcher: Lord of the Empire

Higher vampires, like succubus, were also otherworldly beings stranded on the Continent due to the Conjunction of the Spheres. However, they were far more powerful than the latter.

They were the undisputed apex of the food chain. Based on the existing bestiaries, the known abilities of higher vampires included—but were not limited to—flight, invisibility, immense strength, immunity to conventional weapons, shapeshifting into giant bats, resistance to sunlight, telepathy, and control over other living beings… and more.

And most importantly—immortality.

Literally, immortality. Higher vampires could not be killed—not by any known human method. Even if they were chopped to pieces, melted with sand, and forged into glass, they would still slowly regenerate over time.

There was once a king who offered half his kingdom to anyone who could kill a higher vampire. But no one ever claimed the reward—in fact, that kingdom eventually vanished from the map.

Because higher vampires shared human-like appearances, cognitive patterns, and behavioral habits, they particularly enjoyed living in cities and led lives nearly indistinguishable from those of humans.

Unsurprisingly, this species did enjoy blood. Some followed their primal instincts and hunted humans like wild prey. Others took more refined approaches—such as running an orphanage. The truly clever ones might even establish a noble family and use an entire kingdom—or empire—as their cover.

Still, there were a few higher vampires who could fully abstain from drinking human blood and never harmed anyone—such as Regis, who had just arrived in Brokilon Town.

In the original novels, Ciri was frequently pursued or kidnapped by various factions. Regis unexpectedly crossed paths with Geralt, who, for the umpteenth time, was searching for his 'child of destiny'. After hearing the tales of the bard Dandelion, Regis was deeply moved and decided to join their quest to find Ciri.

Though Regis could not die, he still ended up gravely wounded while protecting Geralt and Ciri—so badly that he nearly fell into a coma that would have lasted centuries. His devotion was beyond question.

Of course, the current Geralt and Ciri knew nothing of that past—nor were they likely to ever know. But by a twist of fate, Regis had now come to Brokilon Town, and without a doubt, he was a powerful ally.

…

After Regis finished his full-length self-introduction, the study fell silent.

Coën's face twitched hard. Instinctively, he began to form the [Quen Sign]. He didn't outright take a combat stance, but his entire aura had shifted.

Ciri swallowed nervously. She had studied bestiaries back at Kaer Morhen—she knew exactly what a higher vampire represented.

Having such a being on their side was undoubtedly a cause for celebration in Cintra.

Still… she suddenly found herself missing Lann.

...

With a rumbling boom, a portal opened.

Since Nilfgaard had already advanced into Aedirn—a region Lann had never set foot in—he had no choice but to make do with an Aedirnian advisor's portal.

The portal's destination was inside the city, but the moment he stepped through, the sounds of battle echoed all around.

It seemed Nilfgaard's forces had broken through yet again. The allied forces were now locked in brutal combat. All across Lann's field of vision were flashes of black cloaks from cavalry units, and the metallic clatter of hooves striking cold stone.

The portal's grand spectacle stood out too much in the middle of a battlefield. A volley of arrows instantly flew over from the Black Army's ranks.

The Aedirnian advisor who had just finished casting the spell barely had time to retract his incantation, let alone raise a protective barrier. All he could manage was a short, panicked scream.

Thankfully, a round shield glowing with the color of the earth manifested just in time.

[Quen Sign - Active Shield]

The metal-tipped arrows thudded against the magical barrier, rippling across its surface. A cool rush surged through Lann's mind, easing the dizziness, and a low groan escaped his lips.

That felt better.

With his left hand maintaining the active shield, Lann grabbed the Aedirnian advisor with his right and shouted, "The city's fallen! Can you locate Demavend?!"

But the advisor was staring blankly at Lann's left hand. "You're casting magic… without an incantation? And maintaining it so easily?"

"Because I'm using a Sign! It doesn't need incantations! Can you locate Demavend or not? Do you have any magical items of his that could help you track him?"

"N-No… It can't be a Sign. Those are just simplified tricks derived from magic—how could something like that be this powerful…"

Seeing that Radcliffe still couldn't process reality at such a critical moment, Lann lost all patience and slapped him across the face.

That actually sobered the Aedirnian advisor up. The chaos and shouting all around triggered a violent shiver down his spine, and he began to ramble like spilling beans: "I can't find His Majesty! Because the northern kings are always wary of us sorcerers. His Majesty never allowed us to use any means to track him—let alone teleport directly to his location!"

Lann gritted his teeth hard—utterly exasperated.

But he could understand. Across the entire Northern Realms, there was no other kingdom that enjoyed the same harmony between monarch and magic users as his own alliance with the druids and mages.

Among predominantly human societies, any individual whose power surpassed conventional human limits might earn superficial respect—but rarely ever genuine trust.

Lann shoved the Aedirnian advisor aside and began scanning the surroundings, assessing the battlefield.

The rain of arrows continued to strike his Sign barrier—at first producing only faint whup-whup sounds. But then, to Lann's surprise, a sudden boom exploded outward—the entire shield shattered completely.

Lann was caught off guard and startled.

According to the characteristics of the Active Shield skill, it was a barrier that consumed mana to block attacks. And right now, his mana reserves were still almost full—he had definitely not taken any powerful hits just now!

If it had been an ordinary mage, they would've been turned into a pincushion in the next second.

But Lann was no mere mage. His reflexes were top-tier.

Even as the shattering light particles of the Active Shield still hung in mid-air, he had already lashed out with a kick, slamming it into Radcliffe's side and sending the Aedirnian advisor flying to safety.

In the next instant, he activated Blink. A flash of golden light, and he phased five or six strides to the right, narrowly evading the incoming hail of arrows.

At the same time, maintaining the Blink effect, he took advantage of the built-in temporal deceleration to scan his surroundings. Amid the dense rain of arrows, his eyes caught sight of a particularly ornate arrow gliding through the air like a swimming fish.

Its shaft was crafted from ebony, its fletching black-feathered, and only the arrowhead gleamed with a faint, bluish glow.

Dimeritium!

Lann's gaze gradually shifted toward the direction the dimeritium arrow had come from.

There, amidst a cluster of Black Army cavalry, stood a high-ranking officer. He wore a black-winged helmet and a cloak embroidered with a golden sun. The officer had just retracted his bowstring and was now reaching into his quiver for a second arrow.

Beside him, another knight clad in padded leather armor was chanting loudly, arcs of electricity crackling around his form.

A mage.

But judging by the standardized outfit, he was likely nothing more than a low-ranking war mage—or even just an apprentice.

Having locked onto his targets, things were now far simpler.

The next second, the Blink effect ended. Lann felt the griffin emblem on his chest tremble slightly. Then, he heard Radcliffe let out a loud yell behind him, followed by the telltale sounds of a portal opening and closing.

The Aedirnian advisor had fled.

But Lann no longer had time to care. Light flickered over his body once again. In the blink of an eye, he vanished—just as a blast of lightning magic struck the spot where he'd been standing.

"Lannister! It's Lannister! The Aedirnian mage brought Lannister here!"

The high-ranking officer who had broken Lann's Active Shield with the dimeritium arrow shouted excitedly and hastily gave the order to his guards.

"He's vanished again! Everyone stay alert! Priority is to locate hi—"

The officer suddenly noticed the expressions of his guards twist into horror. A few even leapt from their horses and threw themselves toward him.

A dreadful premonition struck him. He turned his head—and saw the war mage who had just cast the lightning spell now lying decapitated.

And Lannister—the very man he had ordered his troops to search for—was midair, blood still spraying around him, as he brought his sword down toward the officer.

The blade, inscribed with glowing runes and blazing like a torch, gleamed with terrifying brilliance.

The legendary sword Lannister received from the Lady of the Lake... Damn it! That blade was said to be in Toussaint—and Toussaint is our vassal state! That was the officer's second-to-last thought.

Damn it! Why did Lannister go for the mage first?! That was his final thought.

The next moment, one of his armored bodyguards dove in front of him—but Lannister's longsword suddenly unleashed a sweeping arc of light far exceeding the blade's length.

Though golden and radiant, it was as cold as the breath of death itself. The extended blade cleaved through the bodyguard's armor with ease, then slashed open the officer's armor, skin, ribs, and organs—before finally halting.

"Colonel Mortensen!" one of the guards cried out in a short, tragic scream.

Lannister landed lightly from his blink-strike, already having memorized the positions of his surrounding enemies.

Without pause, he stepped forward with seamless motion, twisting his shoulders as he swept his sword. Golden arcs danced through the air, cutting down the remaining guards one by one.

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