The Witcher - As Uchiha Madara! - Chapter 139 - The Battle Between the South and the North 06.

[Chapter Size: 2200 Words.]
Third Person POV

Northern kingdoms.

...

...The men kept running to the other side of the field, fleeing the battle that had turned disastrous for the Nilfgaardians.

Thorne saw this and realized there was no need for his men to chase the Nilfgaardians any further. He looked at his trumpeter and signaled the retreat of the Northerners, who began to leave the battlefield. Madara dispelled all the clones he had created there and grabbed a loose horse to make his return.

Nilfgaard had been utterly crushed, and everyone in the Northern camp witnessed it, celebrating the enemies’ downfall with cheers. The victorious army was triumphant, gaining a significant morale boost in the process.

“...”

Madara remained silent as he returned, paying no mind to the people cheering around him. He had no interest in fighting alongside an army; his goal was to fight alone. After all, he already considered himself a one-man army.

“Ma...”

“Madara!”

Madara's name began to echo.

“Madara Uchiha!”

Soldiers idolize heroes who make a difference on the battlefield, and who else could they credit for this victory? The first soldier to penetrate the enemy lines and weaken their formation from within, allowing the Northern army to break through, was Madara Uchiha.

“Let’s go, General. After all, we have a protagonist to congratulate,” Thorne said, riding his horse alongside his entourage of advisors. The General, with no choice, followed the group as they joined the crowd.

“Madara Uchiha!”

“Madara Uchiha!”

“Madara Uchiha!”

The chants for Madara grew louder as the crowd moved closer to the camp. Many soldiers who hadn’t participated in the battle joined the celebration, shouting repeatedly, "North!", "Sodden!", and "Madara!" These three names echoed through the air as the king approached.

“Where is Madara?” the king asked, turning to one of the soldiers who had fought in the battle. “I sent men to bring him here,” he demanded.

The soldier, uncertain, replied, “My lord, we don’t know. I swear we saw him returning here, but he disappeared, and no one has seen him among the soldiers. Everyone is looking for him...” he said finally.

“Looks like your champion is a bit shy,” the general remarked with a slightly mocking tone, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t ask much more of him. He isn’t my soldier, General. He’s already done his part, and every soldier in the North should be grateful to him,” Thorne replied, sighing at the end. Though he wished Madara would stay, he knew he couldn’t force him.

Meanwhile, the young man had left the battlefield unnoticed. He walked away, knowing he no longer needed to fight. For him, the battle was the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t part of the Northern army. They weren’t his people or his comrades. He had joined them only to face a common enemy—nothing more. That’s why he had no interest in the celebrations or in being hailed as a war hero.

As he walked, he heard his name being called in the distance, but he no longer cared. Donning a cloak to conceal his face, Madara slipped unnoticed past two camp soldiers. He was heading toward someone he had already noticed upon his return.

Yennefer stood in a corner with a group of mages, watching the celebration. Her eyes scanned the area for the boy everyone was shouting for, but she couldn’t find him. Then she felt a presence approaching from her side.

She quickly turned her gaze and recognized him, raising an eyebrow.

“Come with me. We need to talk,” Madara said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Yennefer, despite finding his approach unpleasant, knew this was just how Madara was. She nodded, noticing that even the mages around her hadn’t detected his presence.

She followed him, and as she looked at Madara, it was as if she were facing a monstrous assassin. Yet he didn’t behave as one—at least as far as she knew. She had always heard that he faced his enemies head-on, in battle.

As Yennefer headed to her tent with Madara, who wanted to talk to her, the deployment of Madara's clones continued across the land of Sodden. One of his clones advanced further south, while another moved east, both searching for witchers, while a third trailed the Nilfgaardian army in the south. It didn’t take long for one of them to stumble upon a small village along the road in a most unusual condition. The smoke rising into the sky immediately caught his attention.

Approaching the village, he found it ravaged, with bodies scattered throughout, all bearing cuts from the same blade. The houses were still burning.

“This was done recently... Probably my target,” Madara murmured to himself. “Judging by the state of this place, it happened about an hour ago.”

If Madara had been a mage or a soldier, the culprit might have escaped him... but against a ninja? They’d be caught in minutes.

This clone didn’t seem to need much effort to investigate further. The destruction provided strong evidence that the one responsible was likely the person he sought. All he had to do now was follow the tracks.

As he walked through the corpse-laden village, one of the burning houses caught his attention when he heard crying coming from inside. Without hesitation, he entered the smoke-filled building. Following the sound, he discovered a false floor made of wooden planks supporting the burning structure above. The crying was coming from there.

Quickly, he lifted a burning log with ease, even in his cloned state, revealing a hatch beneath. After tossing the log aside, he opened the hatch to find a frightened boy staring at him with both fear and hope in his eyes. Inside the hidden space was also a woman, apparently unconscious, with the boy clutching her hands. They seemed to have hidden there while the village was being raided, as the kitchen shelves were empty, suggesting supplies had been stolen.

Madara observed the scene for a moment before making a decision.

“At least you managed to survive...” he said, extending a hand toward the boy. Despite his tears, the boy accepted the help without hesitation or words.

“You need to get out of there!” Madara urged, clearing the way.

“But my mother...” the boy replied, tears still streaming down his face.

“Out! I’ll carry her.” Madara picked up the woman. The boy, around eight years old, nodded and followed, looking back anxiously as Madara carried the slightly heavyset woman over his shoulder.

They quickly exited the house. Madara walked to the middle of the courtyard, the unconscious woman in his arms, while the boy, coughing, kept close by his side.

“Will she live? She’s not dead, is she, sir?” the boy asked, his trembling voice filled with heartbreak.

Madara touched the woman’s neck and examined her body using the Sharingan and the chakra the clone still held. Though he couldn’t see everything, he could discern enough to provide a diagnosis.

“She’ll live. She’s just unconscious. But she’ll need to clear her lungs in the coming months if she doesn’t want to die of another illness,” Madara concluded.

“Thank goodness...” the boy murmured, relief washing over him as he trusted Madara’s words.

“By the way, are these people from your village?” Madara asked, standing up and looking toward a group of six men approaching. They were of various ages, wielding pitchforks and spades. One of them, a man about fifty years old, held a crossbow aimed directly at Madara. His black ninja attire made it obvious he wasn’t a local.

“Who are you? Are you with the witcher? Did you come here to finish us off?” the man with the crossbow demanded, pure hatred dripping from his voice as he prepared to fire.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Madara replied calmly. “Just tell me where the witcher is,” he demanded, his tone unwavering as the villagers exchanged suspicious glances.

“He’s with the witcher! Of course he is! We should kill him!” one of the men exclaimed, jumping to conclusions.

“Stop!” the boy shouted, stepping between them. “He saved my mother and me! He’s not the bad man!” he declared with dry tears and resolute conviction.

Madara raised an eyebrow but remained silent, observing the men before finally deciding to speak directly to them.

"I am here to hunt the witcher. Just tell me where he went, and I will be on my way. I cannot waste time here," Madara stated bluntly.

The farmers exchanged glances for a few moments. Finally, the one holding the crossbow responded, "If you want to know where he went... He entered the forest. He headed south."

"Good. If you want revenge, don’t worry. I’ll bring you his head after I kill him," Madara said coldly, beginning to walk away, leaving the boy behind as everyone watched his back.

No one tried to shoot or threaten him further. They only observed as he disappeared, jumping over a fence near one of the houses and heading toward the woods. He began searching for signs in the forest and soon found tracks that confirmed the villagers were telling the truth. Without hesitation, he ventured into the dense forest.

Meanwhile, the witcher was over 10 kilometers away. He rested with a large sack containing everything he had stolen from the village beside him. After finding the village, he attacked without warning, massacring everyone he could without mercy, looting their belongings, burning their homes, and then leaving. Such behavior wasn’t uncommon in recent weeks. Having separated from his two companions, his mission was to create chaos while seeking any nobles to abduct. Village after village, he left nothing but destruction in his wake.

He sat eating a piece of fruit he had stolen, contemplating his next move. He knew there was a castle nearby, and perhaps it would be worthwhile to seize the family of a duke, rob his treasury, and even violate the duchess.

But at that moment, he noticed footsteps coming from within the forest. He quickly put the fruit aside and stood, urgency evident as he stared at the thicket ahead.

Someone emerged—a boy walking toward him calmly.

"Who are you?" the witcher asked, highly suspicious. After all, he was deep in the woods, and now a boy appeared out of nowhere.

"I saw what you did to the village nearby—men, women, and children dead. Truly, witchers like you are worse than filth," Madara said in a mocking tone.

"So you’re here for vengeance for the village, but I don’t know who you are..." he replied.

"I’m not here directly for the village, but I accepted a request for help from the king of Sodden, and I’m here to kill you," Madara said simply, drawing closer.

"So you’re the king’s dog..." the witcher mocked.

"Said the dog of Emhyr," Madara retorted. "But unlike you, I’m no dog. In fact, what you see now is just a clone, while my original self is killing Nilfgaardian soldiers at this very moment. You’re not even worthy of facing me," Madara spoke each word calmly as he approached the man, who was already holding his silver sword, ready to fight.

The witcher frowned. Only a madman would approach him like this. Anyone else would show fear or hesitation, but this adolescent walked toward him as if it were nothing. Yet what set him apart from a madman was his clear posture—this was a warrior. The witcher realized there were no openings to exploit. What seemed like vulnerabilities on the surface, such as being unarmed, were contradicted by his instincts screaming otherwise.

Madara noticed his silence and continued.

"By the way, my name is Madara Uchiha. I’ve faced over a dozen of your schoolmates up north, and it was quite easy to kill them all at once. I hope you do better because things are getting monotonous in this continent," Madara said calmly. For him, aside from demons, limbo creatures, and those with chakra, there seemed to be no challenges left here.

"Then... die!" the witcher exclaimed as Madara finished. Not believing his words, he traced a sign in the air—Aard. A blast of energy erupted in front of him, causing the area to explode, sending debris flying.

But Madara was no longer there. All that remained was a tree trunk hurled aside, as Madara’s form vanished in a puff of smoke, replaced by the log.

‘Where did he go?!’ the witcher’s thoughts raced as he realized the boy had disappeared—only to feel someone descending upon him.

Before he could react, his cheek met the force of a devastating kick, launching him several meters away. He crashed through branches and other forest debris before finally landing.

Madara landed gracefully, watching as the witcher stumbled and eventually steadied himself, blood dripping from his mouth. He spat, teeth falling out along with the blood from the severe oral hemorrhage.

"What a disappointment. It seems this will be quicker than the others I’ve faced," Madara said, the only words leaving his lips as he began walking toward him, intending to finish him off.