The Witcher – Uchiha Madara!

[Chapter Size: 1800 Words.]

Third Person POV

Northern kingdoms.

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The Northern camp, which had been brimming with high morale one day, was now enveloped in a strange atmosphere of silence, broken only by the rhythmic sound of blacksmiths adjusting armor and sharpening swords everywhere.

The soldiers' boots struck the ground with steady beats as they moved through the camp, tending to their horses, whose uneasy whinnies betrayed their awareness of the tension in the air.

The men might have celebrated themselves to sleep the night before, but today they knew the next battle would be far more than just watching ten thousand men clash on each side and seeing tens of thousands of corpses within the first hour. The sheer thought of becoming a lifeless corpse by the next day was enough to dishearten everyone.

The absence of Nilfgaard's men calling for another battle was a sign that the next clash might be the most brutal of all.

The weather did little to lighten the mood, with strong winds sweeping down the mountain slopes and gray clouds casting a somber, grim atmosphere over the day. Everyone felt it.

In the main tent, where the sounds of men walking, horses snorting, and anvils ringing were audible from the entrance, Thorne paced back and forth inside, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His advisors stood in silence, waiting for him to speak, as he seemed lost in thought.

"Have you managed to contact Madara Uchiha?" he asked the men of his kingdom stationed at the camp.

"No… No one has been able to find him," one of the nobles replied.

Even though he knew it was nearly impossible, Thorne had hoped to reach Madara to discuss strategy. The retreating mages, following Tissaia's orders to return, had discovered one of the witcher's corpses, its death disturbingly difficult to describe, its body pierced with numerous small blades. It was evident that Madara had fulfilled his promise, and the other enemy was likely dead as well. Still, Thorne had hoped Madara would provide information about the South. Yet, Madara never appeared.

In contrast, a scout Thorne had sent returned, reporting a much larger force advancing from the South than they had anticipated. This information had not yet reached the troops, with Thorne and the other leaders keeping it to themselves to avoid unsettling the morale of the Northern armies. The general of Temeria had agreed to this secrecy.

"I'll try to reach Madara again later," he muttered in frustration, though he knew he couldn't demand much. Then he continued, "That's it… There will be no battle today, but they'll come at us with everything tomorrow. That will determine the fate of the North." His voice carried a note of weariness.

"But we can still defeat them, King of Sodden," said the Temerian general with firm conviction.

"Yes," Thorne replied at last, his confidence in his army unwavering, though he mourned the fate of his men in the South. The enemy presence here meant they were all dead.

"I have a plan, even if the enemy numbers have grown," Tissaia said, drawing all eyes to her.

"We have a secret strategy for this battle, and my mages are positioned in a key location," she explained, though her words were met with skeptical looks from the other leaders.

"What is this plan?" the general asked.

"I will reveal it at the right moment, General Edmar Kaelen," Tissaia replied, noting the faint smile forming on Vilgefortz's lips in the corner of the room.

"Very well…" The general couldn't demand much, as the mages operated independently.

The meeting continued with more deliberations, while elsewhere in the camp, in the mages' section, Lydia van Bredevoort stepped into her tent after retrieving supplies from another location via a portal.

She paused for a moment, observing the books and numerous alchemical containers scattered throughout the space. Lost in thought about the tasks her master had given her, she suddenly felt a presence sneaking up behind her.

Lydia turned swiftly, but as her eyes met the figure before her, she froze. The Sharingan had trapped her in a genjutsu.

Madara had already decided to eliminate Vilgefortz, as the man was too much trouble. It would be convenient to end him once and for all. But first, he needed information. For that reason, he had chosen Vilgefortz's trusted assistant as his target. Even though she had mental protections crafted by herself and reinforced by her master, they couldn't withstand Madara's current Sharingan.

Madara observed her for a while before breaking the silence. The woman remained frozen, her eyes wide open.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Lydia van Bredevoort," she replied, her voice trembling.

"And what are you?" Madara continued.

"I am the loyal assistant of Master Vilgefortz."

"Would you die for him?" Madara questioned, his tone impassive.

"Yes," Lydia answered. He knew she was telling the truth. She was in love with her master, even knowing that, in the end, he would sacrifice her without hesitation. To her, that didn't matter. She had accepted being treated as a disposable pawn. But that wasn't Madara's concern. He was after something far more interesting, even if it meant he might have to kill her.

Madara's eyes gleamed briefly as he delved deeper into Lydia's mind. He bypassed every magical defense as though they didn't exist. Lydia instinctively tried to resist, as any sorceress would, but it was useless. She began to tremble as Madara sifted through her memories. The connection brought forth vivid images of her master and their conversations.

Madara saw Vilgefortz immersed in various experiments. He observed his schemes, his alliances, and his betrayals — from secret dealings with the North to negotiations aimed at uniting forces with Nilfgaard if it benefited him.

Worse yet, Madara uncovered Vilgefortz's plan to harness the power of Elder Blood. The mage was conducting experiments, aiming ultimately to acquire Ciri's placenta. However, his tests had yielded no success so far. Madara saw horrifying memories of women being tortured as Vilgefortz tested his theories. The sight angered Madara.

Pulling out of Lydia's mind, Madara scratched his chin, thoughtful, regaining his calm and rational demeanor. But there was no doubt in his mind—Vilgefortz had to die.

Lydia was aware of some of Vilgefortz's conspiracies, but there were others she merely suspected. She didn't know all the details of her master's plans, and now it no longer mattered to Madara. He had to deal with Vilgefortz before the upcoming battle.

"When the time comes, I will return," Madara said, turning to leave.

Lydia shuddered slightly before returning to normal. She turned her back to Madara and resumed her tasks as if nothing had happened, still under the concealed genjutsu Madara had left behind.

Madara despised the idea of killing from the shadows, preferring to defeat his enemies directly in combat. For this reason, he had never infiltrated any camp to assassinate its leaders. He didn't want to be remembered as a mere murderer in this land.

However, he had no patience for manipulators. If necessary, he would eliminate those who schemed in the shadows, using their own methods against them, ensuring they wouldn't interfere with him.

He moved swiftly through the camp, passing unnoticed by the mages until he reached an area with a higher concentration of blacksmiths. He approached a large man hammering at an anvil. As Madara neared, the man noticed him, though no one else seemed aware of his presence—he was like a ghost.

"You're here," the man murmured. "I thought that symbol you requested was strange, but after what I saw you do in yesterday's battle, now I understand."

The man, a native of Temeria, had no idea who this noble from the Uchiha family of Cintra truly was. Madara had commissioned him to forge this armor during his first visit to the camp, mentioning he would go speak with Thorne afterward. Now, over a week later, the armor was finally ready. It hadn't been finished before the previous battle, but the blacksmith had assured him only the final touches were missing. Madara hadn't been bothered by not wearing it then.

The man pointed to the mold where a red samurai-like armor rested. It bore no resemblance to the armors of the Northerners or even Nilfgaard. On its back, the Uchiha crest was prominently displayed, exactly as Madara had requested and shown in his design.

How had the blacksmith managed to craft such a thing? It was thanks to a model Madara had brought, complete with all the necessary pieces. Madara had created it after lengthy discussions with a dwarf who had been a former blacksmith in Cintra and had successfully replicated the design at Madara's request. Though he hadn't seen the dwarf since the invasion, Madara wasn't sure if the craftsman was still alive.

"Perfect," Madara said. He pulled out a bag of coins and was about to toss it to the man, but the blacksmith declined.

"I don't want your money. All I ask is that you fight for us in the next battle. It will decide the fate of our families, and if you tear through those bastards from the South, that will be payment enough," he said.

Madara nodded. "Very well. It will be done."

He moved closer to the armor and used a jutsu to store it within a scroll. He would save it for the right moment. After bidding the man farewell, he disappeared, remaining unseen for the rest of the day.

That afternoon, both auxiliary armies began to mobilize—one from the North and the other from the South. The first to advance was Temeria's army, moving through Sodden's Hill and joining General Edmar, who took command and instructed the commander who had brought the reinforcements to organize the troops alongside the others. It wasn't long before thousands of Nilfgaardian soldiers began marching from the South.

The sight of the enemy force struck fear into many, as their numbers appeared even greater than anticipated. Finally, the Nilfgaardian army was positioning itself, boasting over 150,000 soldiers against the 130,000 troops of the North, now combined from all forces. In total, the battlefield would see 280,000 men.

The disparity in numbers was clear, and morale surged among Nilfgaard's generals and soldiers, confident they would crush the Northerners once and for all.

The upcoming battle, as everyone imagined, would be a bloodbath—perhaps unmatched in the continent's history. This field would become the graveyard of countless lives that would never return home.

From a distance, Madara observed the scene with a calm expression, but soon he snorted. He was well aware of the enemy's numbers, yet he hadn't bothered to inform Thorne. To him, it was irrelevant. What truly mattered was that, by the end of this war, the entire world would tremble before his power, sending ripples even to beings from other continents and other worlds.

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