[Chapter Size: 2400 Words.]
Third Person POV
Northern kingdoms.
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...
Madara jumped between the trees, leaving Duén Canell, as some dryads ran through the forest chasing those who had caused their sisters' deaths, scattering in all directions as Madara passed over them. He formed a hand seal and created shadow clones, which began dispersing in all directions in search of the forest's intruders.
'So, the witchers of the School of the Cat are here... finally. Emhyr is using them to find us... which is logical, but it will also be the fatal mistake for those mutants...' Madara thought arrogantly as he moved through the forest.
It didn't take long before he suddenly looked up towards the west, changing his trajectory and heading that way while dispelling the clones with another hand seal, since his targets had been found, and there was no need to keep other clones scattered throughout the forest.
Elsewhere in the forest, a group of witchers stood on guard, all looking up at the treetops, somewhat confused.
"What the hell was that?" one of them muttered, still holding his crossbow raised toward the branches above them.
"We don't know, but it vanished like a cloud. Remember what we heard about that boy's strange abilities. Maybe it was one of them, like that duplication ability mentioned in the report we got from Nilfgaard," another witcher said.
They were still wondering what had happened, because a short while ago, suddenly, someone had emerged from the treetops, moving quickly toward them. One of them had drawn his crossbow and fired a bolt reflexively, while Madara's clone had dodged swiftly and lunged to the side. More witchers had raised their crossbows, but Madara's clone had simply looked at them with a mocking expression before exploding into smoke and disappearing.
"It's best to stay alert," the leader of the group spoke up, observing the situation. "It seems the boy has found us."
They all felt somewhat surprised, realizing that now they were the ones being hunted. At the same time, they felt relieved to finally find those they intended to capture, after weeks of fruitless searching.
Further ahead, shouts came from the north as dryads approached the witchers.
"It's you... wait, you're mutant humans...?" one of the dryads yelled upon seeing the group with strange eyes approaching, while the witchers lowered their crossbows, waiting for the dryads to stop, seeing that they posed no immediate threat.
"You're right... We're hunting a boy and a girl. Don't take it the wrong way, but we intend to kill anyone in our way to get to them," the group's witcher leader said in a neutral tone, still looking in the direction where Madara had disappeared before turning his attention to the five dryads that appeared before him.
"It doesn't matter. You're invading our forest, approaching Duén Canell. And we've heard you've killed all our sisters to the south. We intend to kill you for that," one of the dryads said, growling with anger and hatred, drawing their bows and pointing them at the witchers, who also prepared for a fight.
"So be it," they responded, and quickly the battle began.
The dryads charged at the mutants, releasing arrows with swift movements, while the witchers used their signs to defend themselves. They also raised their crossbows, and bolts were fired, striking some of the dryads, who had no time to evade, falling to the ground and dying with a wound to the neck.
Two dryads were already dead, while the rest tried unsuccessfully to launch attacks against the witchers. None of them seemed the least bit shaken, mocking the failed attempt to kill them as some approached closer to where the dryads were to take them down.
"Don't worry, you'll join the others we killed..." a witcher said with a shield as he walked toward them.
But before he could really get close, it was at that moment that a sharp sound of cutting air arose from the trees above them, drawing everyone's gaze in that direction.
Three blades of cutting wind moved toward them, enveloped in Wind Element chakra, launched alongside a shuriken. It advanced swiftly, descending towards the witchers who were protected by the Quen sign. But if they thought their shields could stop it, they were in for a surprise.
As soon as the blade touched the golden barrier of the Quen sign, it shattered into fragments and continued advancing, slicing three witchers in half before they could even comprehend what was happening.
"Take cover!" the leader shouted as the blade, which hadn't stopped, moved towards its next target, those behind it. Quickly, they made an effort to dodge out of the way.
The blade passed through more victims, eliciting cries of pain as it advanced through the forest before rising into the sky with no more targets in sight.
"Ah, my arm!" one of them screamed.
A witcher had lost an arm, while another fell to the ground without a leg, screaming even louder as blood gushed out. In just a second, the group had been reduced from thirteen to eight combatants, with three dead and two others screaming in agony without limbs.
A moment later, Madara jumped from a tree and landed on the ground between the witchers and the dryads, keeping his gaze on the mutants.
His eyes fell on the first three, who had been cut in half, dying without any resistance, and on the others who were still screaming. The last eight witchers, who had escaped unharmed, looked at him with furrowed brows.
"What a disappointment..." was the first thing he said before continuing. "You, leave now." Madara said, turning to the dryads, who were still stunned. They began to move, picking up their fallen companions' bodies and retreating into the forest.
"Hey, that was dangerous," the leader of the witchers said, looking at the sliced bodies. He didn't know what it was, but not even the shields had worked against it. His narrow gaze then fell on Madara. "So, you're Madara?" he muttered, frowning.
"You are the witchers sent by Emhyr. It's a shame he didn't tell you that you would die here, isn't it?" Madara spoke arrogantly, though he was still just a teenager standing in front of a group of adults.
Without warning, something cut through the air, and a bolt flew towards him, with a witcher from the group making a quick move, aiming for the boy's head. However, as soon as it reached Madara, it stopped in mid-air as he caught it with his hand, near his eyes, making it look as easy as breathing.
"Please, if you're going to do this, do it right," he said, breaking the bolt in half and tossing it aside before looking at the one who had tried to catch him off guard. The witcher couldn't help but take a step back instinctively.
"This kid is fast..." one of them murmured.
"Should we use...?" the leader was about to speak but was interrupted before he could finish.
"You should use your potions. Otherwise, this will be boring," Madara said, cutting off the mutant leader with an arrogant tone, making all the witchers raise their eyebrows.
"This child is mocking us... or whatever this thing is," one witcher muttered darkly.
"There are many professions—soldiers, knights, mages, witchers... but let me introduce mine. I am a shinobi, something you've never faced before," Madara said. "So I will let you do whatever you can against me, so that when I send you to your deaths, you can't say you didn't try everything against me." He was being deliberately arrogant, perhaps an effect of having experienced a glimpse of his power, almost in its entirety. In truth, his Uchiha blood was once again boiling with excitement, as he could face multiple witchers at the same time after the difficulty of facing just one years ago.
"What should we do?" one witcher asked his leader.
"Do we have a choice? He's clearly mocking us, after killing three and putting two more out of action," the leader muttered, taking out his potions and starting to drink them. Madara didn't mind this. It was time for some real fun.
He watched as each of the witchers drank their potions, their bodies changing—even the ones who had lost an arm or a leg took their potion to try and recover, doing whatever they could to help in the battle, but their potions couldn't regenerate lost limbs.
"If this kid thinks he can handle multiple witchers at once, let's take him down!" one of the witchers said, drawing his silver sword. Like anyone else, they believed Madara wasn't human, so it made sense to use the silver blade. Meanwhile, Madara simply stood still, waiting until everyone was ready, which happened at that moment.
"Here he comes," the leader exclaimed, and Madara dashed forward the next instant.
"He's fast!" they shouted as Madara was already in front of them, moving like a blur. He quickly drew his sword from his storage scroll on his wrist and struck at the first witcher, both using force. Even with the potions, the witcher was thrown back by the boy, unable to react, before feeling a cut on his leg, which was severed. Madara didn't even have time to take his life, as other witchers began advancing.
He launched himself at the second witcher, clashing blades and creating an impact that echoed through the area, advancing to position himself among them. The witchers' hands moved at incredible speed, seeming like blurs in the air, and their silver blades began clashing against him, but Madara followed each one, defending against all the attacks as his Sharingan spun in all directions, even while surrounded. The witchers frowned, frustrated, trying to strike him and failing, while the boy continued creating openings among them and cutting them down.
The witcher with a missing leg took out a bolt and threw it in his direction. Madara quickly caught the bolt in the air and threw it back at another witcher, who had no time to react before collapsing to the ground, his throat pierced.
Another witcher attempted to attack him, but before he could do anything, his hands were severed by Madara's swift movement. The screams continued echoing as Madara turned his attention to the remaining witchers, who were trying to regroup.
"Screw it, we have to do this, or we're dead!" the leader shouted, and they quickly began casting signs in the air, while Madara was busy cutting down a few more witchers who were fighting against him and seeing him kill the witcher without a leg with another bolt he had caught.
"Hm?" The witchers were surprised when they saw five of their comrades finishing the Igni sign from a distance, using the generated fire point-blank on Madara, even with their comrades still nearby.
They saw no other option. Whatever that boy was—he was faster than any of them and had more skill with a sword than any enemy they'd ever faced before. So, in a last-ditch effort, a whirlwind of flames erupted, exploding throughout the area. The screams of their comrades echoed as their bodies were cremated by their own companions' fire.
Only five witchers remained, staring at the spreading flames. "You call that a fire attack? What a joke." Madara's voice emerged from the flames as he stepped out, unharmed, seemingly immune to them, causing all the witchers to raise their eyebrows and grip their swords more seriously.
"He's immune to fire?! Not even his clothes are burning!" they murmured, seeing Madara standing there.
The Uchiha finally stopped. "Let me show you what a real fire attack is," he said arrogantly before moving his arms to quickly form hand seals until he completed his jutsu. Madara spat a simple fireball, but it was so large that it enveloped all of them. It could be said that it was at least ten times greater in flames than five combined Ignis.
The remaining witchers were astonished at this and quickly used Quen to protect themselves, believing that the attack wasn't that strong, as it seemed to be the most basic fire style. The flames collided with their shields, and they managed to hold firm until the flames stopped surrounding them, burning only the ground around.
"Where is he?" they asked, still inside their shields, trying to figure out how to get out of that situation. After all, at this moment, they no longer knew if they would survive.
"Above you," Madara said, while in mid-air. Around him, several flames took the form of dragon heads and advanced downward. The witchers had no time to react; they, along with their shields, were engulfed by flames even more powerful than those launched before, which had only served to distract them in the end.
"Ah!" A scream came from a witcher running from the chaos, emerging in flames as his body was cremated by the explosions. Another companion, their leader, also managed to survive, escaping the range of the attack.
"We should get out of here," the leader murmured before his throat was pierced by a blade, with Madara leaping over him.
"Too slow," Madara said. Even the last remaining witcher, an almost emotionless being, fell backward trembling as he tried to retreat. Madara heard him murmur "Pathetic" before activating his Sharingan and paralyzing him.
He took his sword and simply approached, walking slowly.
"If this is the greatest challenge this world can offer me, I will be disappointed," Madara commented. After all, witchers were supposed to be among the strongest people in this world. And now, he had wiped out the entire group while merely toying with them.
The witcher, still paralyzed, felt a sting in his left chest as Madara pierced his heart with the sword. Madara withdrew it, and the witcher fell to his knees, dying. In the end, he had wiped out an entire group of thirteen witchers in less than five minutes, which left him feeling a bit down, as his bloodlust was not satisfied with such an easy battle.
Some time ago, he had been excited about the possibility of using the Kyuubi in this world, but now he longed for the chance to really fight someone seriously and not keep fighting ants.