Hearing Francesca's response, Wayne felt a warm glow in his heart. It was a good feeling to be trusted. Since the elven sorceress had placed such faith in him, he resolved not to disappoint her.
Though his full strength remained restricted by the seal on his body, Wayne had developed many trump cards over the years. His power was far greater than before, and he was confident he could handle this matter without needing to intervene directly.
Beyond showcasing the Order's strength to other forces, Wayne had another motive for confronting Nilfgaard. According to intelligence gathered by a sorceress he had placed in the South, the usurper emperor's eagerness to invade Aedirn stemmed from the influence of a shadowy figure—Vilgefortz.
Vilgefortz, disfigured and exiled, had become a fugitive with a bounty of one million gold coins on his head. Yet, after escaping to Nilfgaard, he quickly gained the trust of the usurper emperor and ascended to the position of royal advisor. It was unclear what argument Vilgefortz had used to sway the emperor, but the sorceress's intelligence indicated that Nilfgaard was now fully committed to war. The conflict between the northern and southern realms had become inevitable.
Two days later, Francesca's report confirmed this.
After rejecting Nilfgaard's envoy, Francesca observed the imperial representative leave in anger. Shortly thereafter, more than 20,000 Nilfgaardian soldiers arrived, establishing a camp on the outskirts of Dol Blathanna's forests, clearly preparing for an assault.
In the minds of the Nilfgaardian commanders, it was inconceivable that the elves—who couldn't even repel Aedirn's weakened army—would dare defy their empire. To them, this act of defiance was nothing short of a death wish.
The Nilfgaardian military's strength lay not only in their advanced equipment and strategic command but also in their highly disciplined structure. Their military academies produced a steady stream of well-trained officers who could maintain morale and execute complex maneuvers with precision. In the medieval age of cold weaponry, such coordination made Nilfgaard's forces the most elite and battle-effective army in existence.
The army's commander, a trusted general of the usurper emperor, approached the situation with caution. Despite facing an elven tribe without an organized military, he refrained from reckless aggression. Instead, he ensured that his troops gathered intelligence, advanced methodically, and avoided terrain disadvantages.
The Nilfgaardian army worked meticulously, cutting through the forest, building bridges across rivers, and steadily advancing toward the heart of Dol Blathanna—the Palace of Flowers. Yet, after two days of marching, they encountered no resistance. The elves appeared to have vanished.
The eerie silence unsettled the commander. Sensing a potential ambush, he ordered his troops to halt and dispatched scouts to gather intelligence.
As the Nilfgaardian army paused, the Witcher Order launched its attack.
A distant rumble, like rolling thunder, echoed through the forest. Flocks of birds scattered into the sky, startled by the approaching commotion.
The vibrations intensified, growing from faint tremors to thunderous quakes, as if tens of thousands of heavy cavalry were charging toward the Nilfgaardian army.
The soldiers and officers of Nilfgaard, seasoned professionals, felt a creeping unease. Their bodies tensed, and faint tremors betrayed their fear as they stared toward the source of the rumbling.
Yet, as trained soldiers, discipline had been drilled into their very cores. At the commander's orders, more than 20,000 soldiers quickly readied their weapons and reformed their lines. Under the direction of countless low-ranking officers, they established a dense spear phalanx to brace against what they assumed was a cavalry charge.
The vibrations grew louder, and soon, the first figure emerged from the edge of the forest—a towering knight, standing over three meters tall, wielding an enormous two-handed sword over five meters long. Its entire body was constructed from gleaming metal, enchanted with glowing magical runes. Despite its massive size, the knight's speed rivaled that of the finest warhorses.
Without hesitation, the Iron Knight charged directly at the densely packed Nilfgaardian formation, swinging its colossal blade with unstoppable force. It showed no sign of slowing, even as it faced tens of thousands of soldiers.
Moments later, the forest erupted into chaos. Hundreds of armored giants, each towering eight to nine meters tall, burst forth from the dense trees. Clad in metallic armor and wielding gigantic weapons, these colossi bellowed deafening roars, their voices shaking the very ground beneath them. Their cries of bloodlust reverberated like thunder as they charged the Nilfgaardian lines with weapons raised.
Despite being outnumbered hundreds to one, the giants displayed no fear. Each stride carried them five or six meters forward, rivaling the speed and ferocity of well-trained cavalry. Their sheer size and unrelenting momentum created a spectacle that left the Nilfgaardian soldiers paralyzed with shock.
For the empire's soldiers, this was unlike anything they had ever encountered. Unlike the northern kingdoms, where monsters were relatively common, Nilfgaard had few such creatures. Many species had been hunted to extinction in the empire's densely populated lands, and the remaining monsters were often weak humanoid variants. The sight of a massive, organized force of giants nearly ten meters tall was beyond comprehension.
The unknown bred fear. Despite their numbers, the Nilfgaardians could not ignore the enormous size and seemingly advanced weaponry of their opponents. The incoming giant army felt like a tidal wave crashing upon their ranks. A heavy pressure settled over every soldier's heart as they braced for the inevitable.
But the worst was yet to come.
Before the Iron Knights or the terrifying Giant Legion could close the distance, fiery clouds began to gather ominously above the Nilfgaardian formation. The soldiers looked up in horror as the skies darkened, and from the heavens, massive flaming boulders descended. Each stone, engulfed in comet-like flames, streaked toward them with terrifying speed from hundreds or even thousands of meters above.
"Magic! It's magic—wizard spells!" someone shouted in panic.
"Quick, officers! Deploy the anti-magic equipment!" another voice barked. "Their spells are nothing but shells. The equipment will block their effects!"
Before the commander could finish his orders, the flaming boulders crashed into the ground with devastating force, propelled by gravity.
Like massive cannonballs, the boulders obliterated everything in their path. The impact not only pulverized obstacles but unleashed shockwaves that turned nearby soldiers into little more than crimson pulp. The fiery meteorites descended swiftly and mercilessly, leaving destruction in their wake.
Though thousands of boulders fell, only a fraction struck true. Still, the sheer power of the spell was undeniable—one or two thousand Nilfgaardian soldiers perished instantly. In the face of such raw, physical magic, the much-vaunted anti-magic gold was almost entirely ineffective, offering no protection to the hapless soldiers and officers caught in the spell's devastating radius.
While the spell's direct lethality was limited, its psychological impact was immense. It shattered the morale of the Nilfgaardian army and disrupted their carefully prepared defensive formations. The meteorite bombardment became the final straw, breaking the discipline that had kept the soldiers in line.
Before the shaken soldiers could recover, the Iron Knight reached their front lines. Wielding a colossal sword, he plunged into the crowd with unstoppable force.
The Iron Knight's power was terrifying. His swings cleaved through armored officers and shield-bearing soldiers as if they were made of paper. Even without his sword, a punch or body slam was enough to crush soldiers into mangled heaps of flesh and broken bones.
Though smaller than the steel giants following behind, the Iron Knight acted as a razor-sharp spearhead, tearing through the Nilfgaardian ranks with a relentless and unstoppable advance.
And then, the steel giants arrived.
The towering, armored colossi stormed into the fray, their thunderous steps shaking the battlefield. Their massive weapons annihilated everything in their path. The black armor, once the pride of Nilfgaardian soldiers, crumpled like paper under the sheer weight and force of the giants' blows. Weapons wielded by human hands proved useless, barely leaving scratches on the giants' thick steel plating.
This wasn't merely a disparity in skill or equipment—it was a fundamental mismatch of scale. The giants' armor was many times thicker than anything humans could forge. Only large siege engines, such as ballistae, might have had a chance to penetrate their defenses. Against human strength alone, the steel giants were practically invincible.
Faced with such overwhelming odds, the Nilfgaardian army collapsed. The battlefield became a slaughterhouse, with victory for the giants all but assured.
Above the battlefield, Wayne, Francesca, and Elf Sage Ada hovered in the air, watching the carnage below. Francesca's expression was a mix of awe and unease, while Ada remained cold and impassive, her gaze fixed on the battlefield.
"Your legion is impressive, Wayne," Ada remarked, her voice cool and detached. "But these giants are not invulnerable. Curses and venomous magic can still harm them. Against such dark arts, they won't last any longer than human soldiers."
Wayne suppressed an eyeroll at the elf sage's tone, finding her arrogance both amusing and predictable.
"I'm well aware of that," Wayne replied evenly. "That's why my Chamber of Commerce is working to secure large quantities of anti-magic gold. Soon, my giants will have the means to resist magic as well."