The wings flapped, causing the two disgusting lumps of flesh on Batwoman's chest to sway grotesquely. It was utterly devoid of beauty, revolting to the extreme.
With a single dive, she snatched up a female slave—a pitiful demihuman who struggled and screamed desperately. But no one could save her. In moments, Batwoman ripped the slave in half. Blood rained down, eliciting gasps of horror, while Batwoman let out a mocking, eerie laugh.
"Shoot that ugly-ass bitch to pieces!" Field roared, consumed by fury.
No further prompting was needed. The enraged crossbowmen raised their weapons. A cacophony of *twangs* and *thwacks* filled the air as bolts and arrows sprayed towards Batwoman. Unprepared for humans wielding ranged weapons, she paid the price immediately. Struck by three or four projectiles, she plummeted to the ground like a ragdoll.
"You ugly monstrosity! How dare you attack my subjects! Every single one cost me good coin!" Field bellowed, his noble demeanor forgotten.
He grabbed a halberd from the wagon, swung it in a full arc, and smashed Batwoman's head into pulp.
The effort to kill Batwoman caused chaos on the flank. With no crossbow fire to stop them, swathes of rotting corpses surged forward.
"Everyone, scatter!" Ashena shouted, channeling her power.
The black scales on the dragonwolf's neck began to sizzle and smoke. Terrifying energy coalesced, warping the very space around it.
***BOOM!***
Cobalt-blue flames erupted from the wolf's maw. A wave of heat, like a bursting dam, engulfed a vast area in front of Field. The twisted figures of the undead were consumed by the fire in moments. Field even felt like the surrounding grey mist had thinned considerably.
"So hot!" The guards, clad in armor, felt like they were on a griddle due to their proximity. They yelped and cursed in pain. The filth and gore coating the corpses dried instantly, caking onto their armor.
Ashena stuck out her tongue sheepishly. "Sorry."
The continuous bursts of flame annihilated large groups of the undead. The remaining few were easily dispatched, and the group successfully weathered the first wave of the corpse tide.
Three slaves and one slave-soldier dead. Acceptable losses.
"Rest here for half an hour. Women, retrieve the arrows," Field ordered.
He took a waterskin from his steward and gulped down several mouthfuls. The icy water stung his throat, bringing him back to grim reality.
"Thanks to you, Ashena," Field said, reaching out to ruffle Ashena's hair. She blushed crimson, her wolf tail wagging like a propeller, as if she might take off right then and there.
Ashena shook her head, feigning modesty. "It was my duty."
But her expression practically screamed: (˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)
*Praise me! Don't stop!*
*No wonder the Northern Frontier is called the Cursed Lands. If the original owner had come... No, even if I were here without Ashena's help, I probably wouldn't last long either,* Field thought with a shudder, quickly pushing the dread aside.
He spotted new markers approaching his position – a cluster of red exclamation points.
*That marker… more monsters? No… Their formation is too neat. Exactly nineteen of them.* Field frowned, contemplating. He called Ashena and pointed ahead. "Go lie in wait within the grey mist. Be ready to act."
Captain Connor and his troop of cavalrymen advanced through the same grey mist.
"This damned Fog-Dispersing Lantern looks like it's about to die. Why the hell does that idiot Baron have such a big one, while ours are these tiny things? The Second Lady is too damn stingy! Wants the donkey to work but won't give it the carrot!"
"Shut it, you jackass! Your big mouth'll bring the rotters down on us!" hissed a companion nervously.
"I feel something moving behind us," said a sharp-eyed rider, gripping his lance uneasily. "We should have killed Baron Field before entering the Northern Frontier, not now."
Connor sighed. "You think I didn't want to? But openly killing a noble? That's a one-way ticket to the gallows for all of us."
That was precisely why they had parted ways with Field earlier and circled back – to establish an alibi.
Soon, Connor's men found Field's trail. The fresh bloodstains and corpses were a clear path to follow. Hiding the tracks of over two hundred people was impossible.
"Alright lads, priority target is Field. Kill him first. Then we charge through the slaves, grab their Fog-Dispersing Lamps. The mist will finish off the rest." Connor's plan was perfect.
They formed up into a lance-charge formation and urged their horses into a trot.
"I can already picture Field's terrified face begging for mercy!" Connor licked his lips, laughing cruelly.
However, when he finally saw Field, his laughter died instantly.
A thirty-strong guard unit, clad head-to-toe in plate armor, stood in a defensive shield wall, gleaming halberds leveled. The gore and viscera splattered across their armor declared they were no pushovers.
Field stood protected behind a wagon barricade. Two ranks of crossbowmen stood ready, weapons loaded. A single command would unleash a volley. Crossbows didn't need expert training; even a child could fire one capable of punching through a grown man.
"Damn it! They spotted us!" Connor was dumbstruck, feeling like a fool.
"How is this possible? Field's supposed to be a cowardly nobody! Where'd he get a guard like this?"
Mutters rippled through the cavalry. Without the element of surprise, their charge was a joke. Charge armored halberdiers in formation? Or slam into that damned wagon wall?
"We retreat!" Connor yanked the reins hard. His horse whinnied and pivoted.
***ROAR!***
A massive black wolf, over two meters tall and built like a bear, materialized behind the horses. Connor's mount reared in terror, throwing him from the saddle.
"Damn it!" Connor hit the ground, scrambling. Before he could grab his weapon, the cold point of a spear pressed against his throat.
A breathtakingly beautiful wolf demihuman gazed down at him with an unnervingly amused expression. Connor knew one wrong move meant death. To make it worse, she held his Fog-Dispersing Lamp.
"This... this is that slave Field insisted on buying!" Connor remembered instantly. The one who moved freely in the mist *without* a lamp.
His men stared, stunned. *Goddess above! What cursed luck! We've stumbled on a Chosen One!*
Who the hell would've thought Field possessed a Chosen One? Had they known, they wouldn't have come for ten thousand gold pieces!
"Well now, Captain Connor! What brings you here? Quite a surprise!" Field didn't order their immediate execution. His eyes gleamed cunningly as he adopted a tone of casual camaraderie. "Worried I might be late for my appointment? Fear not. Expanding the family's domain is a noble's duty."
"Uh..." Connor stammered, his mind blank in the face of imminent death.