If you were to ask Witcher series players what the most shocking and memorable scene is, what would it be?
Many would probably think of it.
The animated cutscene in the second game where Letho of the Viper School assassinates King Demavend of Aedirn.
And the North Wind bomb he used, capable of destroying an entire royal flagship, was crafted by the sorceress Sile.
It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but while Witchers are skilled at making potions, alchemical bombs, and can even use Witcher Signs and spells...
In truth, those are just leftovers from what sorcerers do; Witchers are merely amateurs.
Their only real advantages over sorcerers are their robust physiques and superior swordsmanship.
Ultimately, when Azur first created Witchers, his initial idea was to transform ordinary people into low-level sorcerers to combat monsters in the world, not to create Witcher warriors.
Unfortunately, creating a group of low-level sorcerers capable of casting first and second-tier magic proved too difficult.
Even with the Chaos Gods' magic having invaded the real world, humans with an innate talent for Chaos magic remained exceedingly rare.
Transforming ordinary people into sorcerers, even low-level ones, was merely a fantasy, very difficult to achieve.
Therefore, Witchers were simply Azur's failed experiments, or rather, failures; the Witcher Order was merely a product of repurposing waste and was quickly abandoned by Azur.
When Francesca, using her master-level alchemy and magical skills, produced that super North Wind bomb, glowing with a eerie blue light like a fluorescent lamp, just one glance at which sent shivers down one's spine...
He was indeed a bit shocked.
"I've named this bomb the 'Core of North Wind'," Francesca said, holding the pineapple-sized, eerie blue bomb, a slight smile on her lips, her voice tinged with pride due to Guilliman's shock.
"We'll use this bomb to deal with the murloc army in the Evil God's Cave later."
"I'll use Mirror Magic later so you can also see the murlocs on the other side being frozen."
"This bomb alone costs two thousand orens in materials. I haven't taken advantage of you with this commission's payment, Mr. Guilliman."
The Elven Queen seemed to be in a good mood, perhaps because she hadn't undertaken such combat missions in a long time.
Or perhaps it was because fighting alongside a Witcher was a rather novel experience for her.
The two followed the path Guilliman had previously scouted and soon arrived near the large cave.
After using Mirror Magic to observe the situation inside the cave, Francesca hesitated little, simply closed her eyes slightly, and began to chant a spell.
A dozen seconds later, a miniature teleportation gate the size of a washbasin opened before her. Simultaneously, another mirror-like magical surface displayed the scene inside the Evil God's Grand Cave truthfully before them.
Francesca smiled at the Witcher, then reached out and tossed the super North Wind bomb into the miniature teleportation gate, directly transporting it into the Evil God's Grand Cave on the other side.
"The Core of North Wind is about to explode, Mr. Guilliman."
As the Elven Sorceress's voice faded, the super North Wind bomb appearing in the Mirror Magic exploded with a roar in mid-air before it even hit the ground.
A magical fluctuation, similar to a black hole's collapse, first emerged from the center of the explosion. Extreme magic was compressed and then erupted with a crash.
Countless icy cold currents surged out like a storm, and an indescribable low temperature quickly froze everything around the bomb in place.
It's hard to describe in words; such a scene of the entire world being rapidly frozen can only be seen in certain disaster movies.
As the ice storm spread at an extremely fast rate, in just a dozen seconds, all living beings, all water sources, and even the air within a roughly four-hundred-meter radius centered on the super North Wind bomb were completely frozen.
As if time had paused, the elite murlocs inside the Evil God's Grand Cave didn't even have time to let out a wail before they were completely immobilized, frozen in place, and utterly deprived of life.
According to the images displayed by the Mirror Magic, the explosion of the Core of North Wind alone directly took the lives of over seventy percent of the murlocs, killing more than fifteen hundred elite murlocs.
Although there were advantages in terrain and elemental counter-effects at play, the power of the Core of North Wind bomb was undeniable.
Only those murlocs located closer to the corners and in the far back of the cave were not affected by the North Wind bomb's power.
However, at this moment, these low-intelligence murlocs were stunned by the scene before them; many simply froze, their ugly faces even showing expressions of bewilderment.
No one could have imagined that their kinsmen, who had been lively moments ago, were all dead in the blink of an eye, frozen into blocks of ice.
Even Guilliman, watching the scene, was shocked, muttering to himself.
Damn it, mages are indeed the best.
Witchers, low-magic world, what a load of crap. This power is already comparable to some missiles in the real world.
If he hadn't possessed the Elder Blood and were at the core of an explosion of this magnitude, he would probably have died instantly, without much suspense.
As expected of a high-level sorceress, the magic bombs crafted by Francesca already rival the power of a fully unleashed third-tier spell from Triss.
However, being a well-traveled transmigrator, Guilliman recovered from his shock after a few seconds, turned to Francesca, and softly asked:
"Shall we go now, my lady?"
"We must hurry, otherwise, if the murlocs here are severely wounded, who knows what might happen at the Evil God's Altar."
Francesca still smiled elegantly and calmly.
She clenched her fist, then swung it forward, and another short-range teleportation gate appeared before them, its destination being the Evil God's Cave monitored by the Mirror Magic.
This is too convenient, damn it.
As long as the teleportation gates are used well enough, what's there to fear about an underground labyrinth? Just teleport wherever you want.
However, the elegant Elven Queen did not go in first, but looked at the Witcher with her eyes, signaling him to lead the way.
Guilliman, of course, had no objections; this was, after all, a warrior's duty.
He cast a Quen Sign on himself, then without hesitation, quickly plunged into the teleportation gate, arriving in the blink of an eye in the Evil God's Grand Cave, which he had explored many times before.
The moment he touched the water, a feeling of biting cold emanated from the air and underwater.
While it wasn't enough to freeze his body, it was clear that the temperature of both the water and the air had been affected by the North Wind bomb's chill, approaching zero degrees.
As he appeared, the surrounding elite murlocs, who had been in a daze, snapped back to attention. As if they had discovered a mortal enemy, they charged at him from all directions without any order or strategy.
Perhaps they wanted to use the courage of defeating him to suppress the pain of their companions' recent mass deaths.
Guilliman casually knocked away a dozen hurled bone spears and used an Aard Sign to blast away the two mutated murlocs closest to him.
Just as he was about to leap into the murloc horde and use his Sword Dance skill to slaughter them,
The elegant Francesca also floated out of the teleportation gate.
Yes, floated out.
Her feet didn't touch the ground; instead, she hovered slightly in the air, with a distinct magical protective shield around her body. In the palms of her delicate hands, two crackling, massive lightning orbs floated.
Upon entering the cave, Francesca's hands began to dance without any hesitation. Bolts of massive lightning, like thunderbolts, shot out from the huge lightning orbs in her palms, striking the surrounding murlocs directly.
Each lightning bolt was dozens of meters long and could directly kill five or six murlocs at once.
The Elven Queen's killing speed was even faster than an armored vehicle firing a Gatling gun.
In just a dozen seconds, she had charred all hundred-plus elite murlocs charging at Guilliman.
This gave the Witcher the illusion of a max-level, fully equipped super boss rampaging through a beginner village.
Damn, this woman is too strong.
I really want to pin her down on the bed and make her show an embarrassed expression!
After eliminating the surrounding enemies, Francesca's face remained composed, still adorned with that elegant and serene beautiful smile.
She tilted her head, looked at the Witcher, and with a mischievous wink, chuckled:
"Lead the way quickly, Mr. Witcher."
"If we resolve things here soon, we might even have time for a drink together."
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