Chapter 21: The Murderous Mist

Komer watched the scene before him with satisfaction. Swirling dark clouds covered the walls of Castle Takros, shifting like an invisible demonic hand—condensing and dispersing as needed. Under Shefrey’s relentless control, the clouds never dissipated and continued to spread to unoccupied areas, thanks to the magical support of Clarence and several other mages. Without such support, Homer’s army was in complete chaos. The ghostly black mist clung tightly to every soldier on the walls, preventing them from detecting attacks from below, while blood and screams only further enraged the already bloodthirsty Homer soldiers.

The panicked cries coming from within the clouds, mixed with the chaotic sounds of weapons colliding, added to the eerie atmosphere, filling Komer with dread. He hadn’t expected Shefrey to possess such mastery over air magic. If Shefrey had used this skill against his own Caucasus army, although Komer could have quickly dispelled it with light magic, the short-term chaos would still have given Homer’s army a perfect opportunity to deal a devastating blow to the Caucasus forces.

By now, the barbarian infantry formations had already taken position below the walls as ordered, while the half-elves began firing their crossbows at high frequency. Faced with the dense ranks of Homer soldiers, they didn’t need exceptional marksmanship—just a rough aim and continuous firing at the walls still shrouded in black mist to achieve their goal.

After over a dozen waves of archery attacks, nearly all of Homer’s defenders on the front of Takros Fortress were eliminated. Although the density of the black mist had decreased, its range had expanded. The panicked Homer soldiers lost all fighting spirit in this asymmetric battle. It was only when the barbarian warriors charged at them that they realized they faced not only the ghostly mist and the relentless half-elf archers but also those monstrous figures with blood-red eyes, roaring as they leaped onto the wall parapets—their most ferocious enemies.

The barbarian warriors, climbing up by force, proved their well-deserved tenacity through their fierce bravery. As the mist thinned, the Homerian soldiers, who kept arriving in increasing numbers from within the castle, still held a numerical advantage. Though their morale and willpower were greatly weakened, they could still continue to kill the uncoordinated barbarian warriors by relying on the defensive structures on the city walls and coordinated tactics.

The blood flowing on the city walls and the heads rolling around made it impossible to tell which side they belonged to. Both sides, trapped with no way to retreat, no longer had any thoughts left. The barbarians needed this battle to prove their worth to other races in the Caucasus, while the Homerian soldiers knew that once they lost Fort Tarkros, the entire Bosson Plain, including Odessa, would no longer be able to stop these fierce barbarians, and even Cyprus would lie at the feet of these barbarians made up of various inferior races.

When Shevrey’s Dark Mist finally disappeared from the walls of Fort Tarkros, Mihajic knew it was his turn to take action. When that magically crafted puppet made of dark metal rushed into the still-resisting ranks of the Homerian soldiers, an unprecedented war began.

From any perspective, the lead metal puppet had no human features. Its serrated upper limbs resembled two extremely sharp scythes, while its oval head was covered with sharp iron thorns—clearly another weapon meant for attack. Its feet were made of triangular spiny rods, covered in sharp thorns that even had a dark hue, obviously not just for decoration.

With Mihajic’s catalytic spells and magic incantations in effect, the metal puppet performed a strange gliding motion and slipped into the Homerian ranks, which had formed a solid defense with round shields and swords. As the miserable screams of the Homerian soldiers echoed across the city walls, the puppet had completed its first wave of attacks. Its serrated upper limbs pulled out from the chests and abdomens of two unprepared soldiers, while its triangular spiny feet leaped into the air to tear through the cheeks of two more soldiers. Blood gushed out along with white brain matter, spreading everywhere. As if possessed by a demon, ripples appeared on the puppet’s flat cheeks, as if it were smiling at the fruits of victory.

The swift, ghost-like metal puppet darted into the ranks of Homer’s soldiers like a torrential wave. Wherever it appeared, agonizing screams echoed, as it tore through Homer’s entire defense line with ruthless efficiency, leaving nothing intact. No one dared confront such a monster, whose nature was beyond comprehension!

It was the first time Homer’s soldiers had witnessed such a terrifying scene. That bizarre, unknown creature acted like a bloodthirsty demon—a killing machine devoid of any sense of life, only intent on swinging every harmful part of its body at everything in its path to destroy everything in sight, whether humans or objects, with frenzied fury.

“Oh!” Even Komer, who had some mental preparation, couldn’t help but exclaim in awe. This was nothing short of a natural killing device! The metal puppet in Sky Eye Magic was undoubtedly far superior to any of Mihajevic’s previous creations. Perhaps aiming to prove his worth as the chief mage to other magicians, Mihajevic’s puppet stunned Komer greatly.

“Mihajevic, you’re truly a genius! To create such a thing—I can’t believe my eyes! After this battle, I must discuss puppet magic with you in detail. I think we can surely find much in common!”

Komer watched happily as everything unfolded on the city walls. After the initial shock, the barbarian warriors quickly realized what the metal puppet meant for them. Their reverence for their lord grew even stronger, and of course, they wouldn’t waste such a perfect opportunity to break through the enemy’s defenses. The barbarian soldiers climbing up the walls using ladders were now armed with four-meter-long assault spears. They formed small attack teams on the walls, easily piercing the already terrified Homer soldiers like strings of blood-filled gourds. As the metal puppet cleared a path ahead, the attack teams expanded their territory, gradually forming orderly assault formations—signifying the end of Homer’s resistance.

The roaring phalanxes of barbarian soldiers, like rapidly spinning mills, kept unleashing waves of carnage on the walls of Fort Tarkros. Without organized resistance, Homer’s soldiers were no match for these fierce warriors. Coupled with a metal puppet that disrupted enemy lines from all sides, no one could stop the collapse of Homer’s army.
“Amazing! Mihajic, I should give credit to your magic puppets for this! Oh, no—it’s Mr. Schaeffer’s Dark Mist that deserves the credit. Without your air magic, the Homers wouldn’t have become so disorganized so quickly. Hehe, and Mr. Mihajic, your mental magic was just right too. It seems our Caucasus Mage Corps’ first battle will end with an unimaginable victory!” Overjoyed, Komer spoke at length, his face turning red for the first time. The outcome was already decided—the siege of Fort Tarkros was coming to an end, and all that remained was to reap the fruits of victory.
The siege of Tarkros ended with such a tragic scene. The knights of the Resurrection Order, who arrived in haste, only managed to witness a sorrowful finale. The Caucasus raiders had cost them their best chance. As Homer’s infantry retreated, the Resurrection Order knights engaged in a hasty battle with the orc army, which had been acting as a reserve force.
“Woodhard, is this your surprise for me?! How dare you show your face again? You’ve completely tarnished the honor of the orcs. Do you still think you deserve to wear that military insignia?!”
Komer was furious, almost bursting with rage. The joy of winning the battle for Fort Tarkros was completely overshadowed by this bad news. His gloomy gaze burned the orc leader, who didn’t know what to do. His thick lips trembled incessantly. Woodhard would rather face those knights’ sharp spears than endure his lord’s blazing anger. The lord’s icy gaze made his massive body almost curl up in fear.

“Lord Komer, please calm down. This defeat is surely my fault. I didn’t expect the Order of Rebirth to arrive so quickly, and a skirmish in the open field is indeed more favorable for them, especially when we weren’t prepared at all.” Fran knew that Komer’s anger wasn’t just due to this minor defeat—losing over 300 orc soldiers was something Caucasus could afford. Komer’s anger stemmed more from the contrast with the barbarian army’s victory at this time, which was undoubtedly a slap in his face. Before fully winning the loyalty and respect of the barbarians, Komer hoped the orcs would earn merits for him, but Woodhard’s poor luck had taught him a lesson.