The Sign Lynn had cast earlier had not actually been interrupted by Coinneach.
He had merely pretended it had been interrupted, placing the Sign on the ground where the grass grew thickest.
He had deliberately dodged to the side to divert Coinneach's attention.
His subsequent fierce assault had also been intended to drive Coinneach back to where he had laid the Yrden Trap.
Coinneach certainly lived up to his reputation as one of the Scoia'tael commanders who would throw the North into turmoil in the future.
Lynn had only been able to locate those Children of Freedom in this forest thanks to the "X-ray vision" granted by his Witcher Senses, yet his opponent had pinpointed his position just as quickly without any cheats.
However, this future Scoia'tael commander clearly would never again stain his hands with the blood of so many northerners as he had in another timeline.
As soon as Coinneach stepped into the trap, Lynn acted without the slightest hesitation.
There was no need for words that would only slow his movements.
But this time, there was no clash of blades.
The sword tip skimmed the ground before surging upward like a waterfall flowing in reverse, like a bird soaring into the sky.
Coinneach stood frozen in place, as though struck by an immobilization spell.
He slowly lowered his head.
He looked at the ghastly wound that had been cleaved almost the entire way from his chest to his shoulder.
The longsword slipped from his hand.
He looked at Lynn, bloody bubbles spilling from his mouth.
"Despicable witcher."
With those final words, he toppled forward like a rigid block of wood.
Crimson blood poured out beneath him in great pools, quickly staining the ground under his body red.
A scorching current of warmth surged into Lynn's body.
"Commander? Commander!"
The three remaining elves, their faces burned, had lost their sight and did not know what had happened.
They had only heard Coinneach's dying words and the sound of something falling to the ground, but it certainly did not sound as though their commander had won.
"Now it's your turn."
Lynn flicked the blood from his steel sword and looked at the three elves, his expression cold.
Every world had its own rules:
In the years after the signing of the Geneva Conventions, humane treatment and medical aid for wounded and sick enemies were naturally a matter of course.
But in this brutal world where human lives were worth no more than weeds, talking about such things was truly out of step with the times.
Even setting that aside, if he were the one defeated now, would these Children of Freedom spare his life?
Of course, Lynn was no racist, either.
What a joke. Humans had already lumped witchers in with nonhuman races such as gnomes, dwarves, and elves. Naturally, Lynn was not about to raise both hands in support of human supremacy.
He simply felt that elven civilians still living under oppression in human society certainly deserved sympathy and compassion, but every last member of the Scoia'tael had to die.
At the witcher's indifferent words, the Children of Freedom's faces filled with shock and fear.
They had never imagined that the commander who had led them to safety from pursuit by Aedirn's army would die just like that in this nameless forest.
"You dared to kill Coinneach? Witcher, you'll pay for this!"
Lynn took a bottle of Tawny Owl Potion from his belt pouch and drained it in one gulp.
Tawny Owl Potion accelerated the regeneration of stamina and magic.
As the potion took effect, Lynn felt his depleted stamina gradually recovering.
He tossed the bottle aside and spoke disdainfully.
"What you're saying makes no sense. War is no dinner party. Since you chose to kill, you should have been prepared to be killed long ago."
Although none of them could see, the elves all stared hatefully in Lynn's general direction.
There was no doubt about it.
Even knowing they were no match for Lynn in their current state, they would still fight to the death.
And Lynn chose to grant them that final wish.
Just then, however, a sudden flurry of footsteps approached from the distance.
Joy appeared on the Children of Freedom's faces.
"You're dead, witcher."
They instinctively assumed their comrades had come to help.
Yet Lynn put away his weapon.
For those who appeared in his field of vision were not the Children of Freedom's companions, but his own.
Geralt, Yarpen, and Istredd were all among them.
As it turned out, when Geralt noticed Lynn charging into the woods, he had worried for his safety, so after downing several potions, he too had fought his way into the forest.
With the two witchers wreaking havoc, even the numerically superior Children of Freedom had inevitably fallen into disarray.
The guard captain had seized the opportunity and ordered a counterattack.
Had the Children of Freedom adjusted their tactics in time, they could have held off the humans' assault.
But at that very critical moment, Coinneach had taken men to intercept Lynn.
Without his command, the Children of Freedom had immediately become leaderless, each fighting on their own.
These people were not even regular soldiers, after all. Although their lifespans were indeed long compared to humans', they had lived under human rule for too long, long since growing accustomed to daily labor rather than military training.
Apart from exceptional individuals like Coinneach, who had never submitted to humans and had always fought against them, most of the Children of Freedom had been nothing more than farmers and artisans until recently.
When the bravest Children of Freedom fell beneath human swords, when dwarves, fellow members of an ancient race, charged at them with axes swinging, and when they received no orders from their commander...
They naturally scattered and fled.
The battle was over.
Knowing resistance was futile, the three Children of Freedom had ultimately had no choice but to drop their weapons and surrender, begging the humans for mercy.
But the humans raised their crossbows.
"No!"
Amid their screams, the Children of Freedom were riddled with bolts until they resembled hedgehogs.
"Go check for anyone still breathing. His lordship said no prisoners."
After giving his men their orders, the guard captain walked over to Lynn, adopting a respectful expression.
But he did not dare raise his head to look at Lynn's face.
"Master Lynn, thank you for your efforts. Are you hurt anywhere?"
Lynn shook his head. "No. All the blood on me belongs to the enemy."
"That's good, Master. Leave this to us. His lordship wishes to speak with you. He's waiting just outside the woods."
Lynn walked out of the woods.
He saw that Geralt had emerged before him and was standing with Istredd.
"Master Lynn, please come over." Upon seeing Lynn, Istredd hurriedly greeted him warmly and beckoned him over. "Are you all right?"
Lynn nodded.
A trace of admiration flashed through Istredd's eyes.
"Just as I'd expect of Master Lynn. Hiring you and Master Geralt was one of the best decisions I've ever made."
Lynn replied modestly, "You're too kind, my lord. Since we accepted the commission to protect the caravan, stepping forward in times of danger was naturally part of our duty."
Istredd spoke sincerely.
"Even so, your achievements cannot be overlooked. I promise you both that my gratitude will not stop at words. It will be reflected in your payment once we reach the Principality of Talgar."
Since Istredd had put it that way, Lynn could hardly refuse. "Then you have my thanks, my lord."
Still, Lynn had a strange premonition.
He kept feeling that Istredd had called him and Geralt over for more than simply expressing his gratitude.
Sure enough, Istredd's expression turned serious as he brought up another matter.
"There is one more thing. I ask that you both keep what happened today confidential."
Lynn answered without a second thought.
"Of course. We won't breathe a word."
He had known Istredd would ask this.
He also knew what concerned Istredd.
It actually had to do with an elven sorceress.
Her name was Francesca.