Within the Haze (Part 2)

The bat-woman's wings beat furiously, causing two pendulous masses of rotten flesh on her chest to sway grotesquely. Devoid of any aesthetic, it was utterly repulsive.

With a single dive, she snatched a female slave—a pitiful demi-human whose frantic struggles and screams went unheeded. Rescue was impossible. Moments later, the bat-woman ripped the slave in two. Blood rained down, eliciting gasps of horror as the creature emitted a mocking, screeching laugh.

"Shoot that ugly bitch to pieces!" Field roared, fury blazing in his eyes.

No further command was needed. Enraged crossbowmen lifted their weapons. A volley of bolts and arrows crackled through the air. Caught off guard by human ranged weapons, the bat-woman took three or four hits instantly. Like a discarded rag, she plummeted to the ground.

"Dare attack my people, you monstrosity? Every single soul here cost me good coin!"

Field stormed forward, snatched a halberd from a wagon, and abandoned all noble decorum. He swung the weapon in a wide arc, smashing the bat-woman's head into pulp.

The distraction cost them. With the flank unprotected, a wave of corpses surged past the halted crossbow fire.

"Fall back!" Ashina cried, channeling her power. Black scales on the Dragonkin Wolf's neck began to sizzle and smoke. Terrifying energy gathered, warping the very air around it.

*BOOM!*

Cobalt-blue flames erupted from the wolf's maw. A wave of searing heat, like a bursting dam, engulfed the area before Field. Twisted figures vanished into the inferno in an instant. Field even felt the surrounding haze thin momentarily.

"Hot! So damn hot!" Guards clad in armor, caught too close to the blast, yelped as their metal shells turned into ovens. Putrid blood from the corpses baked onto their plates, hardening like tar.

Ashina stuck out her tongue sheepishly. "Sorry."

The sustained blaze annihilated the main horde. The remaining stragglers posed little threat. They had weathered the first wave.

Three slaves and one guard lost. Acceptable losses.

"Rest here for half an hour. Women, retrieve the arrows."

Field took a waterskin from his steward and gulped deeply. The icy water jolted his throat, anchoring him back to grim reality.

"Thanks to you, Ashina." Field reached out and ruffled her hair. Ashina flushed crimson, her wolf tail whirling like a propeller, threatening liftoff.

Shaking her head, Ashina feigned modesty. "Just doing my duty."

But her expression screamed: (˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)

*Praise me! Don't stop!*

No wonder the Northern Province was called the Cursed Lands. The original owner wouldn't have lasted—no, *he* wouldn't have lasted long without Ashina.

A chill of dread crept down Field's spine, but he forced it aside. New markers approached on his minimap—a cluster of crimson exclamation points.

"More monsters? No... their formation's too orderly. Exactly nineteen." Field frowned, thinking swiftly. He called Ashina over and pointed ahead. "Go into the mist. Conceal yourself. Be ready for anything."

Captain Connor and his band of riders advanced through the same gray shroud.

"This damn fog-lamp's flickering out," one rider grumbled. "Why'd that idiot baron get a huge one, while we're stuck with this piss-pot? The Second Lady's too stingy. Wants the donkey to work but won't give it the carrot."

"Shut your trap, fool!" another hissed nervously. "Your braying will draw every corpse for miles!"

"Something moved behind us," a sharp-eyed rider muttered, gripping his lance uneasily. "We should've killed Baron Field *before* entering the North. Not now."

Connor sighed. "Think I didn't want to? Openly murdering a noble gets us all the noose."

That was why they'd parted ways with Field only to circle back—establishing an alibi.

Soon, Connor's men found Field's trail. Fresh gore and cooling corpses were the perfect breadcrumbs. Two hundred people couldn't hide their passage.

"Listen up," Connor ordered. "Kill Field first. Then ride down the slaves. Grab their fog-lamp. The mist will finish the rest."

A perfect plan. Lances lowered like a steel thicket, they urged their horses into a trot.

"I can already see Field's face—begging for mercy!" Connor licked his lips, grinning savagely.

But when he finally saw Field, his grin froze.

Thirty fully armored guards stood shield-to-shield, halberds gleaming. Dried gore and viscera crusted their armor, marking them as veterans. Field stood protected behind a wagon wall. Two ranks of crossbowmen leveled loaded weapons. No professional training needed—a crossbow could punch through a man's chest, even fired by a child.

"Damn it! They knew!" Connor's confidence shattered. He felt like a clown.

"How? Field's supposed to be a coward with no backing! Where'd he get troops?"

Unease rippled through the riders. Surprise lost, their charge was a joke.

Charge disciplined halberdiers in heavy armor? Or slam into that cursed wagon barricade?

"Fall back!" Connor yanked his reins. His horse whinnied, skittering sideways.

*ROAR!*

A massive black wolf, over two meters tall and built like a bear, materialized behind Connor's mount. The terrified horse stumbled, throwing Connor to the ground. Cold terror seized him.

"Damn!"

Before he could reach his weapon, a spear point pressed against his throat. A stunningly beautiful wolf demi-human gazed down at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Connor knew one twitch meant death.

Worse, she held *his* fog-lamp.

"This... this is that slave Field bought!"

Connor remembered now—the slave Field insisted on purchasing. The one moving freely in the mist without a lamp.

His men stared, dumbstruck. Goddess above! What cursed luck brought them face-to-face with a Chosen?

Who bloody hell could guess Field had a Chosen? Knowing that, not ten thousand gold would've made them come.

"Well, Captain Connor! Fancy meeting you here. Gave me quite a start." Field didn't order their deaths. His eyes glinted with cunning as he adopted a tone of casual camaraderie. "Worried I'd be late assuming my post? Fear not. Expanding the family's domain is a noble's duty."

"Uh..." Connor's mind blanked. Trapped between life and death, words failed him.