Chapter 397 - 397: Decisive Battle atop Tesham Mutna

On the lookout terrace of the ruined Tesham Mutna.

The blood moon hung high overhead, while Syanna had vanished without a trace.

His killing blow having struck nothing, Dettlaff furiously swung his arm.

"Argh! It seems I've been deceived again!"

"She'll pay for this. She will pay for this!"

As he cursed, his claws swept across the low stone wall, carving deep gouges into it.

Then the higher vampire glared viciously at Victor, his eyes practically spitting fire. There was no need to think about it. The young man was obviously responsible.

"You should not have interfered in this, witcher!" he snarled through clenched teeth.

Casually tossing aside an empty potion bottle, Victor rolled his neck from side to side.

He looked rather strange at the moment, his face covered in bizarre battle markings.

"Dettlaff... at last we meet... Leo asked me to help you uncover the truth. Now that you know it, what exactly do you want?"

At the mention of Leo, Dettlaff's expression shifted. His left hand restrained his right, which was clearly itching to strike.

"I want nothing, Victor. I merely wished to say farewell to my beloved, yet you toyed with me, just as Syanna did!"

"No, I didn't toy with you. Just as you demanded in your letter, she came here and spoke with you. You also received the explanation you wanted.

"I never promised to let you kill her...

"Enough people have died tonight. You should keep your promise and call off the attack on Beauclair."

Dettlaff took a deep breath.

"I refuse! Toussaint will know no peace. The vampires will leave before sunrise, then return tomorrow night, and every night after that, until the city is utterly destroyed or you hand Syanna over to me."

"Then I'm afraid you've gone too far. I can't allow you to leave."

The witcher answered with perfect calm.

Dettlaff's pupils contracted slightly, and he looked at Victor with the cold indifference one might show a corpse.

"Though this was not part of my plan, nor something I desire, if you intend to stop me, I will kill you. I suggest you think carefully."

Victor gave no verbal answer to Dettlaff's ultimatum.

He simply drew his silver sword, Frost's Lament, and assumed the Ox Guard. The blade was held parallel to the ground, its strong positioned before his forehead, while the hilt remained beside and slightly behind his head so as not to obstruct his vision.

The witcher's movements flowed seamlessly from one to the next.

There was no hesitation.

And no room for misunderstanding.

With a low snarl, Dettlaff's face thrust forward to reveal razor-sharp teeth.

As the higher vampire advanced, his pallid cheeks tightened and gleamed as bestial features spread across them, while the claws extending from his lowered hands lengthened.

The familiar combat form of a higher vampire.

Just like Regis, Dettlaff's transformation was violent yet strangely beautiful, displaying an overwhelming ferocity.

Once again, Victor felt his heart begin pounding faster.

An intense instinct for survival surged from deep within him, his body relentlessly pumping blood and adrenaline into every limb.

Mind and skill as one, mastery forged through a hundred trials.

Drawing upon his previous sparring experience with Regis, Victor acted before Dettlaff could turn into mist and launch a surprise attack.

His Moon Dust bomb exploded first.

Silver particles filled the air, leaving the vampire nowhere to hide.

Without hesitation, the witcher swung Frost's Lament.

The strong of the blade collided with Dettlaff's claws with a metallic clang, blocking the attack just before those claws could pierce his chest.

That exchange had been perilously close.

Had Victor reacted even a second later, Dettlaff would have ripped out his heart.

Having failed to kill him in one strike, Dettlaff immediately sprang backward and opened some distance.

Under the moonlight, he touched his forehead with his left hand.

The blood around the gash there had frozen solid, interfering with his regeneration.

Clearly, it was the freezing effect of the silver sword.

At the instant Victor had blocked the killing blow, the vampire had pressed forward, attempting to force the weapon aside.

Victor had suddenly released his resistance instead.

He immediately followed with another exchange, the sword point tracing an arc before slashing in from the opposite side.

Because the resistance against him had abruptly vanished, Dettlaff's own momentum left him unable to block.

He could only retreat in a blur, narrowly avoiding having his skull split open.

Even so, the wound remained.

"So this is what you're relying on? Victor, one enchanted sword that freezes its target won't save you."

Dettlaff swept his claws across his forehead, slicing away the entire frozen section of flesh.

The injury then began visibly regenerating.

"You managed to withstand one of my attacks. For Leo's sake, I'll give you one chance to keep your life.

"Go back to Beauclair and tell Anarietta my demands."

"Thank you for the offer, but as I already said, I'm keeping you here tonight."

Victor shifted his fingers and palm, silently casting two Signs in succession, Quen and Yrden.

A pale golden Quen shield coated the outside of his armor.

Meanwhile, a faint violet Yrden field spread outward from beneath the witcher's feet to a radius of twelve yards, enveloping the higher vampire within it.

Magic seemed to make the very air viscous.

Every movement felt as though it were taking place underwater, and the faster one moved, the more layers of resistance had to be overcome.

Victor's experience fighting Regis had proven one thing, the Yrden Sign was extremely useful.

Even a higher vampire couldn't gain much of an advantage against Victor while trapped inside the slowing field.

Though the silver dust prevented him from turning into mist and Yrden interfered with his speed, Dettlaff showed no fear.

"Heh heh heh! Young man, if you acknowledge any gods... start praying, now."

One step.

Two.

Three.

Dettlaff suddenly accelerated.

A sonic boom cracked through the air as he lunged forward.

His claws smashed down viciously.

Clang!

They struck Frost's Lament in an eruption of sparks.

His movements were swift and elusive, while his claws, fists, palms, and kicks carried terrifying weight.

The relentless assault made it seem as though several vampires had surrounded the witcher at once, hazy afterimages attacking him from every direction.

Compared to Regis, Dettlaff was faster and stronger.

Had anyone else encountered this storm of attacks for the first time, they might have panicked and been overwhelmed in a single barrage.

Fortunately for Victor, they were ultimately the same kind of creature.

There were no truly fundamental differences between higher vampires, and while fully dosed on alchemical potions, he could maintain this battle for quite some time.

Dodging and shifting within an extremely confined space, he made full use of his vambraces and silver sword to block and parry while patiently searching for the smallest opportunity to win.

The witcher knew that defeating a higher vampire required exhausting the regenerative power contained within their blood.

Ideally, he needed to inflict overwhelming damage all at once, dropping them instantly before their body even had time to unleash its full potential.

Working from that principle, Victor had devised several tactical plans.

Every one of them relied upon Frost's Lament and its freezing power, which could temporarily prevent wounds from regenerating.

His first plan had been to launch a surprise attack during their initial exchange.

While Dettlaff was careless and failed to dodge, Victor would perform a quick craniotomy, then, while the vampire's brain was still malfunctioning, cut him into pieces.

Unfortunately, he had only managed to wound Dettlaff's forehead.

That same strike had also put the vampire on guard, ensuring he would no longer casually expose his vital points to the sword.

So Victor adapted to the situation and moved on to his next plan.

Amid the vampire's storm of attacks, he would use the School of the Viper's distinctive dagger techniques to defend and counterattack.

Thanks to the concealment offered by his herbal satchel, the angles from which he could produce his dagger were even harder to detect than those normally used by the Viper School.

And the Higher Vampire Oil coating its blade was far deadlier than the classical formula.

Such a perfect and entirely feasible plan had only one tiny flaw.

Actually carrying it out was nowhere near as easy as it sounded.

Under Dettlaff's crushing pressure, Victor had to devote everything he had to resisting.

He couldn't afford even the slightest distraction.

Within inches of death, there was nothing but heart and sword, his sword-heart clear as crystal.

Claws and silver blade continued colliding with ringing metallic blows.

Finally, after countless ferocious exchanges...

In the span of a single blink, the silver sword knocked the claws aside.

Victor's left hand produced a dagger as though performing a magic trick, unleashing a dreamlike yet lethal strike.

Shhk!

The dagger plunged deep into the vampire's heart, piercing straight through his back until the point emerged from the other side.

Dettlaff instinctively grabbed the hilt.

At first, he felt nothing but disbelief.

Then the agony exploding through his chest made him understand.

It wasn't that the witcher had failed to prepare Vampire Oil.

He had been waiting for this exact opportunity to inflict a devastating wound!

And there was no chance his opponent would waste the moment when his body was locked in place...

Sure enough, the razor-sharp silver sword Frost's Lament came slashing diagonally down toward his head!

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