The Witcher - As Uchiha Madara! - Chapter 182 - Plans for the King of Kaedwen.

[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]
Third Person POV

Kaer Morhen.

...

...

While Coen was being freed, Madara quickly worked to extract all the useful information he could from his target while keeping King Henselt under a Genjutsu.

At this moment, the monarch of Kaedwen found himself engulfed in darkness, becoming even more terrified than when he had been on the rooftop.
There, he could feel nothing but the void and the uncertainty of what was happening. Never in his life had he felt such fear.

"Then, let's see what you're hiding, Henselt." The voice came from the darkness, as if it were everywhere at once. The king looked around, but he could find nothing beyond the shadows.

"W-what... what do you want? What are you doing? I am a king!" He muttered, but his voice trembled, betraying the fear he felt at that moment.

"You were the one who started this conflict, not me. Now, you will tell me exactly everything I want to know." Madara spoke calmly, yet his tone carried an unquestionable authority.

The king's eyes widened as he saw two glowing red lights in the dark—the same eyes he had seen on the rooftop. But then, the pattern of those eyes began to change, as Madara revealed his Mangekyou Sharingan.

"W-what... what is this?"

It was the only thing the king managed to murmur before his mind was lost. He tried to scream for help, but no one would be there to hear him. Madara now had complete control over his mind and began to sift through everything Henselt had done recently.

He quickly uncovered the details of the king's scheme: the operation he had orchestrated against non-humans and witchers in this kingdom. The shinobi also discovered that the true reason behind the attack on Kaer Morhen was, in the end, merely hatred and suspicion. That was why he had attacked the witchers as well, even though they originally had no intention of eliminating them. He had used the fear of the boy whom all the continent's kings feared.

Madara had never cared much for elves, dwarves, and other races, apart from a single dwarf who had once worked for him in Cintra during his early years in this world. If he was lucky, that dwarf had survived the fall of the kingdom. But even without direct concern, he did not condone ideologies that advocated for the extermination of anyone different from a human.

He expected this kind of mindset from the Brotherhood of the Eternal Fire, but he hadn’t imagined Kaedwen would follow the same path at this time.

Furthermore, as he delved deeper, Madara discovered that the kings had been making a concerted effort to locate either him or Cirilla. And this was no ordinary search. They were spending fortunes on it, using every possible resource. There were discussions across the continent about killing him, debates on whether to ally with Madara, and even arguments about attempting to pass his seed to someone who could control his power from a young age.

"So... that's why." His voice sounded dark.

The methods and objectives of their search continued to unfold before Madara. They had been looking for him and Ciri for years, but without success, of course. Yet, they would never have imagined that the two would be in Kaer Morhen. That was until someone appeared before the king last month, informing him that the witchers of the School of the Wolf might have some clue about Madara and Ciri.

"So it's him..." Madara recognized the mysterious man who had spoken with Henselt.

Madara had seen enough. The king, oblivious to the fact that his mind had been effortlessly invaded by those powerful eyes, now saw them revert to the three-tomoe Sharingan. Once again, he found himself surrounded by darkness. But those red eyes remained, watching him, as if piercing every part of his soul.

Suddenly, the vision shifted. When the eyes vanished, everything had returned to normal. Henselt found himself once again on the rooftop, looking out over the kingdom—but now, alone.

He couldn't utter a single word after everything that had happened. Wondering if that boy was still there watching him, he looked around in all directions. However, all he could see at that moment was the city illuminated by the moonlight.

Feeling the night breeze and the cold of the night warning him that he should return to the castle and inform his guards, he quickly tried to find a way down from there.

But things were not over.

In the next moment, a massive glow erupted, illuminating the entire city behind him. As the brightness began to fade, he turned his gaze back. However, what he saw made his body freeze in pure terror.

A gigantic creature.

The same creature he had seen at the end of the war in the south.

This time, however, Kaedwen’s capital seemed insignificant compared to that colossal beast, towering at 600 meters tall, like a mountain.

The king stood there, trembling in fear, recalling the destruction he had witnessed in the soldier’s vision. All he could do was pray that he would not die.

Then, the giant raised its hand, holding a titanic sword before swinging it toward the city. The king realized, horrified, that he was the target of those monstrous eyes.

In the next instant, destruction came.

The entire city was devastated. His castle turned to dust, and Henselt himself exploded like a balloon of blood, leaving no trace behind.

Then, a scream cut through the night.

"Henselt!"

A woman appeared at his side, touching him with concern. The king was drenched in cold sweat, breathing heavily while staring at nothing, still in shock.

"Are you alright, Henselt? What happened? A nightmare?" the woman murmured.

He was still breathing heavily, trying to remember what he had just seen, but he couldn't understand. However, the feeling remained.

"It was just a nightmare, my dear..." he muttered, but the bitter taste of destruction and terror still lingered. Flashes of the city being annihilated and his castle collapsing remained vivid, even though he couldn't fully recognize what he had seen.

"Try to sleep, dear," his queen tried to soothe him.

"I think you're right..."

He lay down again, but the fear remained. What if he had another horrible nightmare...

Suddenly, his wife widened her eyes, her face consumed by horror.

"Henselt!!"

"What is it?" he asked, looking at her.

"Your face... Did you hit something?" she questioned, noticing the marks of injuries on his skin.

"I... don't know..." He touched his own face, feeling a burning pain in the affected area. He finally realized something was wrong.

"Guards! Call the sorceress immediately!" his wife exclaimed, as one of the soldiers ran through the castle corridors in search of the woman.

Henselt appeared injured, unable to remember Madara or even the vision he had, but the Uchiha had preserved all the emotions he had felt—after all, none of them had been good, and that alone would be terrifying for the king.

Meanwhile, Coen felt his body slightly sore after having been still for so long, but he kept walking through the city, alongside Geralt, while Madara's clone advanced across the rooftops, always seeking the best escape route while avoiding the night patrols.

It took a while, but they finally reached the inn. Madara's clone then exploded into smoke, disappearing completely. Geralt, along with Coen, raised an eyebrow at the sight, but he wasn’t surprised.

At that very moment, the real Madara appeared in front of the inn.

"Let me take him," Madara said, grabbing Coen despite the witcher’s protests. With an agile movement, he leaped to the top of the inn and entered directly through the window of the room.

Geralt, without saying a word, climbed up using the rope he had prepared earlier, securing his ascent with a hook.

"Rest a bit," Madara said as he observed Dandelion, who was already snoring in his bed. He hadn't even noticed their entrance, which was not surprising. After all, ninjas are silent assassins.

"Then, did you manage to have a friendly conversation with the king?" Geralt asked as he entered shortly after, wondering if Madara had killed the king.

"Killing him wouldn’t improve the situation." Madara replied, as if reading the witcher's mind, surprising him. He then continued.

"No, I’m not reading your mind, I just guessed." He went on. "You may not show much expression on your face, but after a few years together, you’re easy to read."

“...” Geralt shrugged at that and remained silent.

"Anyway, I have a solution." Madara spoke again and continued. "The king will soon find out that his witcher has escaped and, at the same time, he’ll realize that the men he sent north won’t be returning. He will certainly declare the School of the Wolf an enemy and send groups to exterminate it."

Coën looked stunned, clearly displeased by that.

"This really doesn’t improve our situation," Geralt murmured the obvious.

"Regardless, I scared him a little, but I also erased his memories so he wouldn’t remember me. However, I left a feeling of fear in him… and a few marks on his face." Madara spoke casually, while Geralt raised an eyebrow and Coën frowned.

"Wait… you hit the king?"

"Yes."

The witchers were speechless—after all, it wasn’t every day that someone claimed to have beaten a king as if it were a common occurrence.

"But I have an idea that the king will need your services soon..." Madara informed.

"What do you mean by that?" Geralt asked, suspicious.

"It’s simple." Madara began to explain his plan, while the witchers nodded, understanding his logic.

"This actually sounds reasonable... So, do you intend to stay in the city?" Geralt asked.

"Yes. After all, someone needs to leave the king with no alternatives but to seek the witchers' services. I am the only one who can do that. Even though I could simply go there and kill him, that would forever doom your reputation. But if I make him negotiate with the witchers, then you’ll have a chance to ask for his help in exchange for forgiveness."

"So... you plan to beat the king every day?" Coën murmured, a little concerned.

"In a way, yes. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you need to leave the city immediately. It won’t be safe for you after tonight."

"I doubt we’ll be able to leave unnoticed," Geralt commented.

"Don’t worry about that." Madara approached Coën and yanked off the witcher’s medallion, which had been recovered along with his iron sword from the prison. His silver sword, however, was still missing—it had been stolen by a noble involved in Coën’s imprisonment.

"I’ll distract them. I’ll send a clone to the south and have it cross the gate alone, dropping this." He raised the medallion. "That will draw the king’s attention south, and you will head north."

Madara explained while Geralt nodded, understanding the shinobi’s reasoning.

"Anyway… and what do we do with him?" Geralt asked, looking at the bard snoring heavily in the bed.

"Take him with you. If he’s seen in the city after what happened, he’ll be an easy target—it’s already suspicious enough that he’s staying at an inn with two strangers. Leave hidden through the northern walls and continue your journey. Avoid main roads and try not to run into anyone along the way."

"I protest!" Dandelion's voice suddenly rang out. He sat up in bed, half-groggy, blinking a few times before staring at Geralt.

"I won’t go! If you take me, it will have to be by force!... I don’t want to go to your bed without any effort, Young Maiden—maybe if you call your fifteen noble friends, this humble bard might consider accepting!"

However, before he could continue his protest, his eyes closed again, and he collapsed back onto the bed.

The three of them exchanged glances, raising their eyebrows, as the bard went back to sleep, completely oblivious to the situation.