The name of the submerged city beneath Lake Vizima has faded from memory, but as an underwater dwelling in an inland lake, it is more akin to a town than a sprawling metropolis. Unbeknownst to the inhabitants of Vizima, this seemingly tranquil lake conceals a terrifying entity: Dagon, an ancient and powerful god, along with hundreds of his devoted Vodyanoi followers.
While Dagon and his minions plot and amass strength, they remain hidden, awaiting the opportune moment to unleash chaos upon the surface world. In secret, Wayne, has rallied six fellow witchers and three sorceresses to aid him in the eradication campaign against this underwater threat.
The submerged town bears the scars of neglect and decay. Scattered amidst the ruins of small, Romanesque buildings lies a colossal temple, occupying a vast expanse at the town's heart. Numerous acolyte guards, armed with rudimentary weapons, tirelessly patrol the area. Meanwhile, other acolytes, gaunt and emaciated, struggle to catch fish and seaweed, striving to ensure the survival of their community.
Beginning in the latter half of the previous year, a series of bombing incidents, spanning several months, has severely impacted the acolytes population. Once dominant along the shores of Lake Vizima, they have been reduced to a state of perpetual fear and heightened sensitivity to their surroundings.
Although the daily loss of a dozen or so acolytes may seem insignificant, the cumulative effect has been devastating, halving their warrior ranks. As a result, they rarely venture out in search of food, preferring to remain huddled within their nests, wary of any intruders who dare encroach upon their territory.
As Wayne and his team ventured from the lakebed to reinforce the underwater barrier that bisected it, they drew near the submerged town. Their presence immediately provoked a hostile response from the local inhabitants.
Unlike the structured battles of games, where enemies appear in small groups and gradually increase in difficulty, culminating in a final boss encounter, reality offered no such controlled escalation. As Wayne and his companions approached, the acolytes rallied their full force. Led by a dozen heavily armored acolytes warriors, nearly two hundred others swarmed towards the intruders like a surging dark tide.
Before they could close the distance, a barrage of bone harpoons filled the water, reminiscent of spears launched in a pitched battle. The projectiles hurtled towards the underwater barrier, but the acolyte, isolated from the surface world, remained unaware of the potent magic wielded by humans.
Keira Metz, adorned in a white dress and various magical accessories, countered the incoming threat. With a small wand in hand, she swiftly chanted an incantation. A wave of her wand unleashed an invisible surge, transforming into a powerful current upon leaving the barrier. The harpoon volley was swept aside, rendered harmless before it could reach its target.
Keira, a sorceress specializing in protective magic, may not have been able to withstand a vast army, but against the individually weaker acolytes, her magic proved to be a formidable asset in this smaller skirmish.
The acolytes, momentarily stunned, had never encountered such a defense. Harpooning was their primary tactic, and while they had few enemies near Lake Vizima and limited combat experience, they had always relied on this method to secure food within the lake.
The failure of their tried-and-true strategy did little to deter them, however. Encouraged by their leaders, they rallied once more, wielding their crude weapons as they charged towards the underwater barrier, hoping to overwhelm their foes with sheer numbers.
In response, Wayne and the other witchers formed a protective semicircle in front of the sorceresses, shielding them from the acolytes onslaught and preparing for a fierce melee.
Yennefer, in particular, was channeling mana to sustain the underwater barrier. An attack on her would likely destabilize the barrier, unleashing millions of tons of lake water upon them. This could cause serious harm, if not death, to everyone present. Therefore, Wayne remained close to the sorceresses, acting as their personal protector, rather than engaging in the battle alongside the other witchers. This was his primary responsibility in this fight.
As the acolytes approached, the first wave passed through the underwater barrier. The barrier's magic disrupted their forms, causing them to fall from the lake and crash onto the ground. The six witchers on the front line immediately launched a swift and precise attack, eliminating the fallen acolytes.
The acolyte's natural physiology and rudimentary armor offered little protection against the witchers' blades. Furthermore, they were inherently weaker than humans in combat. Facing sober, potion-enhanced, oil-smeared, and well-rested warriors who fought with seamless coordination, the battle was one-sided from the start.
The acolyte's weapons shattered against witcher steel, and their bodies were swiftly sliced apart. Foul-smelling, ichor-like blood filled the lakebed, only to be obscured by the gore of newly fallen acolytes.
The black wave of acolytes seemed to have crashed against an unyielding reef. Upon contact, they were scattered into bloody fragments, offering no resistance.
Wayne, steel sword in hand, remained vigilant. While guarding the sorceresses, he observed his fellow witchers decimate the acolytes.
No acolyte could withstand three blows from a witcher. Their coordinated attacks meant that even if a acolytes blocked a frontal assault, it would often be skewered from behind by another witcher's blade.
It was a pity that no one could understand the acolytes's language. Perhaps negotiation could have swayed them from their devotion to the evil god, rather than resorting to slaughter.
As more acolytes poured through the underwater barrier, Keira and Triss joined the fray.
One sorceress wielded lightning, the other fire. Against the unprotected acolytes, their magic proved devastating.
Each bolt of lightning, each fireball, inflicted horrific wounds on the acolytes. But more potent than the physical damage was the psychological impact.
To these primitive underwater creatures, sword fights were comprehensible. However, the dazzling lightning and scorching fireballs were terrors they had never encountered. These magical assaults swiftly shattered their morale.
Through the combined efforts of sorceress and witcher, nearly half of the two hundred acolytes were swiftly eliminated.
The heavy losses in such a short time alerted the acolyte leaders.
One particularly robust acolyte, likely of high status, noticed the carnage. It waved its weapon, let out a screeching cry, and blew a raucous note on an ugly shell horn.
Upon hearing the signal, the remaining acolytes abandoned their fighting comrades and retreated towards the massive temple in the city.
Unable to break through the underwater barrier, Geralt and the others could only watch the acolytes escape, powerless to stop them.
They vented their frustration on the remaining acolytes, their attacks growing even more ferocious. The stragglers were hacked to pieces, falling to the lakebed.
Despite the setback, the initial battle yielded significant results. Although the confrontation lasted less than twenty minutes, Wayne's side suffered only minor injuries. Berengar had a small abrasion on his arm, but no one else was harmed.
The acolytes, on the other hand, left nearly a hundred corpses behind. The survivors retreated into the massive temple at the city's center.
Unfortunately, the underwater barrier moved much slower than the acolytes could swim. They could only inch towards the temple.
After entering the underwater city, Triss exhaled and turned to Yennefer.
"Yen, let me take over the barrier. It's your turn to rest."
Yennefer, looking a little pale, nodded. Maintaining such an underwater barrier required immense magical energy, not sustainable by a single sorceress. This was why they hadn't used large-scale spells earlier – they needed enough mana to sustain the barrier until they returned to the surface.
Upon being relieved by Triss, Yennefer immediately downed a vial of purple potion with a rather unpleasant odor. While its taste and smell were disagreeable, it was the most common potion used by sorcerers. It effectively helped replenish mana and boost their spirits.
Geralt, ever attentive to Yennefer, saw her covering her mouth with a look of nausea. He quickly offered her a white handkerchief. Yennefer, however, merely gave him a sidelong glance and disgustedly tossed the handkerchief, now stained with foul-smelling acolyte blood, to the ground. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and asked Geralt,
"What's next, Wayne?"
"Should we clear out the remaining acolytes near the town before focusing on the temple, or should we head straight in?"
Wayne was pondering this question when Vesemir, the veteran witcher, spoke up.
"I think we should keep pursuing them. We should corner them as soon as possible. Faced with our overwhelming strength, these acolytes didn't scatter. They all fled to the temple. Clearly, they believe there's a power within that can aid them against us."
"The more time we give them to prepare, the stronger their resistance will be."
The veteran witcher's suggestion was met with immediate approval. George, wiping his sword, said,
"Yes, Wayne, I agree."
"We should eliminate the evil god first, then deal with its minions. Otherwise, it might sense danger and escape."
"Our mission would then be a failure."
After hearing their thoughts, Wayne agreed. After a few minutes of rest, they proceeded directly towards the temple gate.
The underwater temple's structure resembled that of an ancient Roman temple.
However, unlike the magnificent Roman temples, this underwater temple had existed in the lake for an unknown period. Its exterior was covered in algae and grime.
Instead of grandeur, it exuded an eerie, terrifying aura, like a monstrous maw waiting for prey.
Undeterred, Keira cast a powerful illumination spell towards the dark temple entrance.
The path ahead and the hall's interior were bathed in light. The group, maintaining a vigilant formation, cautiously entered the temple.
Seven witchers and three sorceresses - their team was fearless, even against a three-hundred-strong human army, let alone two to three hundred acolytes.
Upon entering, a putrid stench, worse than rotting fish, assaulted their nostrils. Looking into the hall, they instantly understood the source of the acolytess confidence.
The acolytes had regrouped inside the temple, forming an attack formation.
However, they looked different now.
Their eyes were bloodshot, their expressions fierce. Their muscles bulged, their bodies seemed larger. They appeared possessed.
Behind them stood a dozen hunched acolyte priests, wielding metal staffs. They channeled a blood-red energy into the acolytes.
The dozen or so strong acolyte leaders were unrecognizable.
Their bodies had swelled to nearly three meters tall. Their skin was a ghostly pale blue, their fish heads covered in writhing tentacles. Their muscles had grown to grotesque proportions, exuding a lethal aura.
Behind this group stood another figure, nearly five meters tall, its skin almost black. It resembled a giant with an octopus head, staring at the intruders with enormous, blood-red eyes.
Looking at the acolytes in the temple hall, now clearly corrupted by the evil god's power, Vesemir's expression turned grim. He shouted to the others, "The evil god's power is formidable. Be careful, everyone. These acolytes have been corrupted. The enemy is about to attack."
Wayne's face mirrored Vesemir's seriousness. The acolytes transformation was alarming; their power clearly amplified. The evil god's influence was not to be underestimated. Even if the acolytes weren't slain by the witchers, they would likely succumb to the corrupting power, becoming sacrifices to the evil god. The battle ahead promised to be difficult. The sheer size of the transformed acolytes indicated a significant increase in their combat strength. The previous tactic of direct confrontation would no longer suffice to protect the sorceresses.
Fortunately, Wayne had anticipated this scenario. He yelled to Vesemir and the others, "Execute the plan! Don't hold back on my account. Safety is important."
As if on cue, the evil god's avatar at the back of the acolyte ranks emitted a terrifying, rasping cry. An invisible force erupted from it, filling the temple.
Upon hearing this sound, all the witchers and sorceresses, including Wayne, felt a jolt as if their minds were being assaulted by a psychic force.
It felt as if an unseen force was attempting to rip their souls from their bodies. Overcome by intense pain and a haze over their minds, they lost control. The acolytes waving their staves abruptly stopped, their forms erupting into a bloody mist infused with the malevolent god's power. This transformed into countless crimson tendrils of energy that seeped into the acolytes standing before them.
Empowered by this sinister energy, the acolytes grew even larger, a surge of violent power emanating from their bodies. Suddenly, Triss, who had been maintaining the magical barrier from behind the crowd, cried out. Her mind was under assault by the god's psychic attack. Not only was her consciousness overwhelmed, but her body could no longer contain the chaotic magic within her. The barrier she'd worked tirelessly to uphold began to falter, and the backlash of energy caused Triss to collapse, her face pale and foam spilling from her lips.
As Triss fell, the barrier surrounding them constricted, millions of tons of lake water surging towards them like a broken dam. At that moment, a radiant energy burst forth from Wayne's brow. It banished the god's influence from his mind and wove a protective melody around him. Wayne recognized the ethereal tune as that of the Lady of the Lake.
With no time to ponder the implications, Wayne reacted instinctively to the impending deluge.
Quickly forming a seal with his hands, he channeled all his magical energy upwards, conjuring a massive Quen shield that encompassed a ten-meter diameter above them. This protective dome sheltered him, the three sorceresses, and the witchers. Though smaller in scope than the sorceresses' underwater barrier, this wasn't due to a disparity in magical power. Rather, the Quen shield was a basic, unchanted spell, barely even qualifying as one. If not for Wayne's recent studies in spellcraft, he wouldn't have been able to cast it at all.
Even with his efforts, the shield could not be strengthened beyond its inherent limitations. It paled in comparison to the underwater barrier, which had been crafted with specific magical rules and tailored for aquatic conditions. Maintaining the Quen shield drained Wayne's Chaos energy rapidly, causing cracks to appear in the skin of his hands.
Despite his best efforts, Wayne's power was no match for the immense force of the surging water. The shield shattered under the unimaginable pressure, its semicircular form seemingly compressed as the chaotic energy within it was consumed at an alarming rate.
A burning sensation spread through Wayne's mutated organs, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he coughed up a crimson spray. His transformation into a Source Warlock was the only thing preventing him from being immediately crushed and swept away. This was the first time since his arrival in this world that he had been injured, and the damage was severe.
Agonizing pain racked his body, his mutated organs strained beyond their limits. The immense pressure of the water felt as though it was crushing his very bones. A sickening cracking sound filled the air as the lake water continued its relentless assault, threatening to obliterate him entirely.
Despite the agonizing pain, Wayne held on, driven by the need to protect his companions. They were under his care, and he refused to let any of them suffer lasting harm during this mission.
Thankfully, the Lady of the Lake's blessing proved potent, freeing everyone from the evil god's mental grasp. Though Triss had succumbed to the magical backlash and lay unconscious, and Keira was still recovering from the psychic assault, Yennefer was the first sorceress to regain her senses.
Taking in Wayne's dire situation, she wasted no time. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she began casting a new underwater barrier. The witchers, too, awoke from their stupor. Witnessing Wayne's struggle to maintain the Quen shield, they were eager to help but lacked the magical knowledge to do so.
Yennefer's exceptional talent shone through even in this crisis. With swift, precise movements, she restored the underwater barrier, halting the onslaught of water and relieving the pressure on Wayne.
As the immediate danger subsided, a wave of even greater pain washed over Wayne, but he ignored it, shouting to the others, "Keira, focus on the barrier!"
"Everyone else, as planned, prepare the Northern wind bombs for a saturation strike," Wayne commanded.
Keira, despite her lingering disorientation, instinctively began casting a protective spell. The witchers, meanwhile, retrieved their Northern bombs and armed them. While other alchemical bombs were ineffective underwater, Northern wind bombs, which relied on freezing power, were not only potent in aquatic environments but even more devastating due to their unique properties.
As Wayne struggled against the pain of his injuries, the mutated acolytes completed their transformations and launched a ferocious attack. Engorged with the evil god's power, they had lost all semblance of reason. Grotesque tentacles sprouted from their bodies, their eyes burning with a bloodthirsty red as they charged towards the group.
But this was exactly what the witchers had hoped for. As the acolytes closed in, over a dozen Northern wind bombs were hurled, each carefully aimed to maximize their impact. Simultaneously, Keira completed her spell, erecting a shield specifically designed to protect against the intense cold.
The bombs detonated in a series of explosions, unleashing a wave of freezing energy that rapidly spread through the water.
Within ten seconds, the water surrounding them froze solid, encasing most of the mutated acolytes in thick ice. Frozen mid-movement, they became statues, trapped and immobilized. Though the cold wouldn't kill these aquatic creatures, it would rapidly drain their body heat, sending them into a state of hibernation.
However, not all of the acolytes had been caught in the blast. Some, moving slower than the others, had escaped the freezing radius. Fueled by the evil god's power, they had no concept of fear or self-preservation, mindlessly charging towards the group from different angles.
But Wayne was prepared. As the remaining acolytes approached, Vesemir and the others unleashed another volley of Northern bombs, targeting the new threats. Each bomb cost a hefty thirty crowns, and in a matter of minutes, they had expended nearly a thousand crowns worth of explosives.
It was a costly tactic, but an effective one. The remaining acolytes were frozen solid, neutralized, if not killed. The immediate danger had been dealt with.
Wayne, using his steel sword as a crutch, struggled to his feet, coughing up another mouthful of blood. He quickly downed a healing potion from the druid elder and a second, stronger one from his own inventory. Then, pointing his sword at the monstrous effigy of the evil god, he shouted,
"There's no time to waste," Wayne urged. "We have to destroy the evil god clone before it causes more trouble."
Drawing upon the Lady of the Lake's residual blessing, he invoked its power once more, enveloping everyone in a protective aura that shielded them from the clone's mental influence.
George of the School of the Griffin, ever the bravest, was the first to act. He downed a potion of underwater breathing and charged towards the clone, followed closely by his fellow Wolf School witchers, including Vesemir. Six master witchers surrounded the clone, their movements swift and coordinated.
Though fighting underwater put the witchers at a disadvantage, their combined skill was enough to challenge even a monster, let alone an clone of a god.
Wayne, severely injured, could only watch helplessly from within the barrier as Keira and the witchers battled the clone. The only thing he could do was tend to Triss, who remained unconscious. He gently administered an intermediate healing potion from Azeroth, its magic-free properties safe for the magically sensitive sorceress.