Chương 140: The Bloody Fog

From atop an elevated hill surrounded by his guard, General Vargas watched the horrifying massacre that had befallen his elite troops through his magical zoom scope. His stern face did not change, not a single eyelid flickered, but the thick veins in his hands gripping the scope bulged so severely they nearly burst from the suppressed rage within him.

"The cursed arrows come from above, but the thick fog and rising smoke prevent our mages from pinpointing their exact locations for a counter-bombardment," Vargas analyzed the situation with the speed and intelligence of a general who had fought a hundred bloody wars.

"The fog is their only tactical shield. Remove that natural shield and they become nothing but naked targets on the branches." Vargas turned sharply toward a very special unit standing behind him, a formation of war mages clad in pristine white robes embroidered with silver threads forming the emblems of wind and tempest.

"Imperial Tempest Unit, move to the front immediately. I want the combined [Supreme Cleansing Wind] enchantment activated. Leave not a single particle of fog, not a single leaf obstructing visibility in that cursed valley." Vargas pronounced his orders like death sentences. Fifty mages, among the most powerful wielders of the wind element, stepped forward, arranged themselves in a semicircle, and began chanting ancient and complex magical incantations in a single harmonized voice.

Mana gathered visibly in the air surrounding them, and winds began to howl ferociously around the hill, uprooting small shrubs and churning up clouds of dust. After seconds of energy charging, a massive and wide wave of pure, ferocious magical wind launched from their hands, driving forward like a solid wall toward the fog-covered valley, engineered to sweep away everything in its path, disperse the dense fog, and expose the dark elf snipers' positions in preparation for bombarding them.

Deep in the forest, from his concealed position, Dex smiled a devilish smile, cold and ruthless, as he sensed through his skin the sudden shift in air pressure and the incoming magical wave.

"They swallowed the second bait, exactly as I anticipated," Dex said to Lumia, who stood beside him.

"The great General believed the accumulated fog in the valley was nothing more than a natural obstacle I was using purely for cover and concealment." Dex produced from his leather satchel a small glass vial, now empty, that had previously contained a peculiar orange-colored powder.

"In the earthen prisons I lived in, Lumia," Dex began to explain in a low voice, watching the wind approach the valley, "when chaotic riots broke out, the guards used tear gas to suppress us. But the smart prisoners, the ones who spent years studying everything, knew very well how to take that same gas and turn it into a lethal weapon against the guards."

Hours before the battle began, deep in the dark of night, Dex had ordered dark elf teams to collect large quantities of Anthrax Spore Shroom, an exceptionally rare and toxic fungus that grows only in the depths of damp caves and dormant volcanic zones within the forbidden forest. They had dried it, ground it with precision into a powder as fine as dust, then scattered it in massive quantities throughout the thick fog blanketing the targeted valley.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. These fungal spores were completely dormant and entirely harmless in their natural state and in still air. But thanks to Dex's precise chemical knowledge carried over from his previous world, he knew they possessed a terrifying reactive property: they were extraordinarily and excessively flammable, combusting explosively when subjected to rapid friction and violent airflow.

When the Imperial [Supreme Cleansing Wind] struck the spore-laden fog with its full force, the fog did not disperse as Vargas had planned. Instead, the catastrophic chain chemical reaction that Dex had plotted and staked everything on came to pass. The ferocious wind speed created an immediate and immense friction between millions of spore particles suspended in the air.

And suddenly, in a terrifying blink of an eye, the white-gray color of the thick fog blanketing the valley transformed into a blazing, frightening neon-orange.

"What in the hell is this?" the Imperial mages asked in terror, before grasping the scale of the catastrophe they had triggered with their own hands. The fog did not disperse, it ignited entirely. This was no ordinary fire consuming wood. The very air surrounding the soldiers had transformed into a burning, luminous gas.

The few Imperial soldiers who had miraculously survived the Red Rain, who had been breathing the fog deeply to catch their breath after running, suddenly found orange flames quite literally igniting inside their throats and lungs with every breath they drew.

"Aaaghhh! I'm burning from the inside! Save me!" Muffled, gurgling, and indescribably terrifying screams rang out through the burning valley. The soldiers, even the armored ones, began dropping to their knees one by one, tearing off their helmets and clutching their burning throats, their faces rapidly turning the blue of the suffocating and then the black of the charred. Steel armor and defensive enchantments cannot protect you from the poisoned air you breathe to stay alive.

In addition, the burning, viscous spores that contacted open faces caused immediate and agonizing blindness to everyone they touched. Amid this total chaos, this blindness and suffocation, the valley blanketed in the blazing Bloody Fog became a sealed and perfect hunting ground. Dex gave the final signal. The dark elf warriors descended from the trees in silence.

They all wore primitive yet effective protective masks Dex had designed in advance, thick cloth pieces soaked in a simple alkaline solution that neutralized the spores' combustible effect when inhaled. They moved as true ghosts through the dense orange smoke. There were no sword duels or calls of honor.

A dark elf fighter would pass in silence beside a blind, screaming Imperial soldier clutching his throat, and with a motion swift, fluid, and stripped of all mercy, would draw a poisoned dagger across the soldier's neck to silence him forever, then vanish instantly back into the red smoke to kill the next target.

Some Imperial soldiers, from the extremity of their pain and blindness, were swinging their broad swords wildly and madly through the air, killing one another by mistake in bouts of delirium and absolute terror. Dex stood above and watched the harrowing spectacle of thousands choking and dying, his orange eyes reflecting the glow of the burning fog, his face bare of any human emotion.

"War is not a stage for displaying honor, General Vargas," Dex whispered, as though directing a message to the winds of death themselves.

"War, in its simplest form, is about who can devise ways to be more ruthless, more bloody, than their adversary. And today, the prisoner teaches the Empire a lesson in cruelty."