Twenty or thirty arrows came hurtling toward him.
Lynn narrowed his eyes slightly.
Those arrows, enough to turn a man into a pincushion, seemed as slow as snails to the witcher, whose face showed the effects of the potion's toxins.
As though he had activated a Sandevistan, he twisted and darted through the incoming hail of arrows with incredible reflexes, deftly avoiding every last one.
By the time he had dodged that volley, fewer than twenty meters remained between him and the forest. He drew a deep breath, stamped hard against the ground, and shot forward like a crossbow bolt, plunging into the trees ahead.
Inside the forest was different from outside. The terrain rose and fell, and the trees provided cover.
Once he entered the woods, the threat posed by the volleys of arrows diminished considerably.
Lynn exhaled a stale breath, rolled behind a large boulder, then closed his eyes and opened them again.
Witcher Senses, activate!
The world took on a different appearance before his eyes.
A wealth of scent traces appeared before him, distinguished by colors visible to the naked eye:
The jumbled footprints left throughout the forest...
The smells of sweat and bodies left unwashed after long stretches living in the wilderness...
And the tiny currents produced as breathing disturbed the air...
These were the Witcher Senses granted by the mutations of the Trial of the Grasses.
Witcher Senses allowed witchers to easily identify the traces left by the monsters they were tracking among the evidence at a scene, and even directly "see" the sounds of creatures breathing.
See them in the literal sense.
When a creature breathed, a witcher with his Witcher Senses active could see rings of ripples spreading outward.
Those ripples were the sound of breathing.
Ordinary people naturally could not see them.
Only witchers with their Witcher Senses active could see them.
And wherever those ripples appeared, there was a living creature.
Different creatures produced different ripples, so experienced witchers could also identify what sort of creature they would face in advance from the sound of its breathing.
"Found you!"
In just a few short seconds, Lynn had pinpointed the enemies hiding in the woods.
Holding his steel sword in a reverse grip, he lowered his body, darted out from behind the boulder, and charged toward the three enemies closest to him.
Hearing movement behind him, the elf instinctively turned and loosed an arrow.
He reacted quickly. Although he had no time to aim, the arrow he fired in haste still flew straight toward the source of the noise.
Judging by the sound, the elf reckoned there were only a few paces between them.
At that distance, few people could dodge an incoming arrow.
But what rang out next was not the sound of an arrow piercing flesh, but the clash of metal.
Confusion appeared on the elf's face.
Then he saw the witcher charging out of the bushes.
He instinctively reached for an arrow, but Lynn reacted faster.
There was only a flash of cold steel.
Then he heard his companions scream.
Lynn slit the elf's throat with one stroke and did not pause, for out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the other three elves in the squad had spotted him and were turning their bows toward him.
Not a trace of panic, fear, or hesitation entered Lynn's mind. The combat experience and memories granted by his mastery of School of the Wolf Swordsmanship made him instinctively step forward.
With the extraordinary reflexes granted by the Blizzard Potion, he dodged two arrows fired in succession with tiny movements, barely losing any speed.
He ignored the other two elves reaching behind them for arrows and lunged straight at the elf in the middle, who was drawing the longsword at his waist.
Seeing Lynn approach like a phantom, the elf hurriedly swung his longsword at him. Unfortunately, in Lynn's eyes, both his movements and his speed were riddled with openings.
He easily evaded the elf's slash, then cleaved into his shoulder with his steel sword.
Squelch!
Blood sprayed like a fountain.
Only a fountain sprayed water, while what gushed from this elf's body was blood.
He snatched the longsword from the elf's hand, then swiftly hurled it to his left.
It drove firmly into the chest of another elf who was nocking an arrow.
"Human!"
The last elf roared, raised his longsword high, and slashed with all his strength at Lynn's back.
But his blade met empty air.
The violently vibrating witcher medallion had warned Lynn.
Even without looking, he could sense the malice behind him.
So he leaped aside without hesitation.
As he dodged the descending longsword, he also slashed open the elf's throat with his steel sword.
The elf's eyes widened.
He fell stiffly to the ground.
His hands desperately tried to cover his throat.
But it was all in vain.
Blood seeped ceaselessly between his fingers.
At last, he slowly stopped struggling.
He had choked to death on the blood flowing from his own throat.
Having killed four enemies in succession, Lynn did not linger.
He could feel streams of warmth flowing into his body.
But he had no time to check his status panel.
These were far from the only enemies in the woods.
From the breathing he could "see" with his Witcher Senses, Lynn could tell that these Scoia'tael-well, they called themselves the "Children of Freedom" now-were scattered throughout the forest in small squads.
There were even two squads moving toward the northern side of the forest, just as he had feared, evidently trying to sneak around behind the caravan.
That meant he had to be more active on his end as well.
Fortunately, the Children of Freedom had chosen this forest as their battlefield, and that benefited not only them, but Lynn as well.
Honestly, if this had been open ground rather than a forest, he really would not have dared to rush in so recklessly.
But now the trees provided cover, not only greatly reducing the threat of arrows, but also blocking the enemy's view.
His Witcher Senses, on the other hand, allowed him to see through to the enemies' positions and gain the advantage of striking first.
Nor was he afraid of driving these Children of Freedom into a corner and having them all come after him.
After all, he was not fighting alone.
Istredd's men were still exchanging arrows with the Children of Freedom outside the forest.
If they noticed that the arrows coming their way were thinning out, would they seize the chance to charge in?
Then, with Lynn striking from within, these pointy-ears would only die faster.
Meanwhile, on a patch of higher ground somewhere in the forest.
Several cold-faced elves surrounded a tall elven commander.
Coinneach da Leo was the commander of these Children of Freedom.
The Children of Freedom did not, of course, refer only to him and his men.
Any elf who resisted human tyranny and believed the continent belonged to the Aen Seidhe was a Child of Freedom.
Over the past year or two, he and his men had struck throughout the Kingdom of Aedirn.
They attacked villages and killed lone travelers, sparing neither the children nor the elderly who went into the forest to gather firewood.
In Coinneach's eyes, this world should have belonged to the elves in the first place.
Yet now, the elves' living space was being squeezed ever smaller by the relentless human advance.
Many elves like Coinneach could not understand it.
Why?
The elves had clearly come to this world first.
Because he and his men had committed every sort of atrocity in Aedirn, the Aedirnian army had launched operations to encircle and wipe them out.
As it became harder and harder to get by in Aedirn, Coinneach had no choice but to lead his men south, preparing to relocate to the United Kingdom of Lyria and Rivia.
But along the way, the men he had sent out to scout happened to discover Istredd's caravan...
Materials and supplies were, of course, important and precious even to Children of Freedom who burned, killed, and plundered.
That was why Coinneach had launched an ambush despite knowing that the other side had a sizable escort.
Coinneach had thought that a few volleys from his men would send the humans fleeing in terror.
Just as had happened countless times when they robbed caravans before.
But this time, the result was the exact opposite of what Coinneach had expected.
The humans had not crumbled beneath the elves' volleys.
Instead, they had used their covered wagons as cover and organized a counterattack.
Although his men held the advantage of terrain because they had hidden in the forest beforehand, things were not going smoothly on his side either.
What worried him even more was that if they failed to finish off those humans soon, an Aedirnian patrol might be drawn by the sounds of fighting, putting them in danger of being attacked from both front and rear.
Just as Coinneach hesitated...
An elf stumbled up onto the high ground and reported in a panicked voice.
"Coinneach, a human has fought his way in! He's formidable. He's already killed several of our brothers. We can't stop him."
Coinneach could scarcely believe his ears.
His men could not even stop a single human?
"Useless!"
Coinneach kicked the messenger elf to the ground, then shouted to the elves around him, "All of you, come with me."