Into the Fog (9)
The most headache-inducing part of dealing with this swarm of bugs, in my opinion, was the severely limited visibility caused by the fog.
Even using my ability, if the line of sight was this narrow, I couldn't spot every single enemy attack coming my way in advance. Especially those little bastards that leaped up and ambushed from above—they were a real pain.
Parlen had said the fog ended at the Ice Breath River. And the reason wasn't anything special.
It was just that the low water temperature caused the atmospheric moisture to settle. Same principle as clouds meeting cold air and turning to rain.
The people of this world, lacking even basic elementary school knowledge from my world, probably just thought it was some mysterious phenomenon.
Seizing on that, I'd asked Paradilan to plant wide-dispersing ice pillars as we fled—ones that would spread cold air.
These ice pillars served dual purposes: clearing the fog for visibility and marking a path for me to reunite with the group.
My plan was to block enemy pursuit while retreating along these pillars, biding my time.
Thud!! The sound rang out again.
The second ice pillar had slammed down, some distance from the first.
A chill connected the pillars, clearing the fog just around them.
Visibility opened up, and a path appeared.
I stayed vigilant of my rear and moved to the next pillar.
Only then did the enemies emerge en masse from the fog near the first pillar.
They seemed to have some sense for detecting fog or humidity. The moment they entered the cleared area, they hesitated, as if disoriented.
These things had no eyes. So their other senses must be keenly developed instead.
Up until now, they'd probably tracked us by footsteps or breathing.
Given how they'd reacted to Parlen's stab during our first encounter, they might even pick up the faint sound of cutting through fog. That's why I struck the ice with my sword.
Clang! Clang! Clang!!
As expected, the helmet ant swarm, which had paused, raised the grotesque antennae near their eye sockets and turned toward me.
Even the group advancing unseen in the fog beyond the pillar shifted my way—light, rhythmic tapping sounds approached from both flanks.
The lure operation was a resounding success. This should let the others escape safely.
The helmet ants gathering near the pillar seemed to multiply over time. The sounds grew closer.
Even just the ones in my sight, within tens of meters, were closing in.
Thud!
The third ice pillar must have dropped somewhere.
That became the signal to open fire.
Helmet ants the size of human heads.
For convenience, let's call the bouncy little ones fleas.
The fleas leaped not just within my view but from the fog beyond, raining down on my head in an instant. Each one poised to cleave with scythe-like beaks.
Black blobs pouring from the sky like carpet bombing. This assault alone must have claimed countless adventurers in the forest fog.
When they closed in on my head, I activated Happy Moment.
Perfect timing.
I raised my sword like a standard-bearer hoisting a flag, reinforced the blade with magic, and charged through their midst, slicing.
The stance looked ridiculous, but it worked like a charm. As time resumed, the fleas split in two and splattered across the ground.
Hearing the splat! splat! of fleas crashing and bursting, I headed for the third pillar.
A few more fleas scattered after, but the first wave had been their max firepower—the numbers dropped sharply.
By the third pillar, one of the blade-types—the kind Parlen had skewered through the head—approached.
Let's call these mantises for convenience.
Unlike fleas, they had long torsos and could rear up like mantises. Some charged at waist height, others at neck level, scissor-jaws agape.
The difference from real mantises: instead of sickle-arms for slashing, they specialized in scissoring with blade-beaks at the mouth. The head looked more like a stag beetle.
When they neared and maxed their jaw-spread, I stopped time. Then I jabbed and withdrew my sword tip into each gaping maw.
That punched holes in the heads of five nearby ones. For the farther ones, I hurled bolts from my belt and shouted:
"One, advance! Two, advance! Three, advance!"
⟨ Bolt Propulsion ⟩
I always carried three bolts for use like throwing knives.
Jasgiria's magic weapons were excellent ranged tools—except they looped back aiming for the user.
That flaw turned into an advantage with my ability.
Time flowed again, and the mantises lunging for a blade-hug staggered dozens of steps with jaws still wide, then collapsed forward.
Smooth sailing so far. But I'd already burned over a third of my mana.
Thoom!
An ice pillar thudded in the distance.
Keep moving. But now the main force—the big ones—closed in.
Helmet ants several times my size.
Elephants, for convenience. Not insect-named like the rest, but the bulk matched, and mass was their weapon.
This was the one periodically ramming Damish's Earth Embrace while we rested.
It charged with its central horn like a spear. Not fast, but heavy. It focused that bulk and weight to impale and fling upward.
Get skewered and launched high, and waiting fleas or mantises would dismantle you on impact.
I dodged lightly and slashed a leg encased like armor.
Ting! It bounced off. Magic resistance! Not an elephant—a composite-armored tank.
I could shatter its defense with Killgent's Oath, but I held off.
One alone, maybe. But two or three more followed.
Sacrificing mana or blood now to kill this one was suicide.
So I let it pass.
Not lethal if dodged properly.
Treat elephant-types as indestructible trap objects in a game.
I evaded the horn—whooshing with rough wind—every few seconds while advancing to the next pillar.
Slash fleas and mantises, ignore elephants.
Each pillar passed left more elephants piling up.
One horn-swing became four.
Beyond horns, their mass itself was a weapon—ramming or kicking.
Manageable so far.
The real issue: elephants now blocked visibility instead of fog.
Fleas surged from between elephant legs, slicing my arm.
A mantis hidden on one's back popped out—nearly decapitating me.
Some mantises leaped from atop elephants.
Ashu must realize by now.
That I'm in dire straits.
Treatment lagged on the arm slice, but now wounds healed instantly.
Muscle severed in a flash—leg buckled, nearly crushed under an approaching elephant.
Stopped time, rolled clear, resumed for Ashu's heal, and barely stood.
Injuries forced more ability use for evasion. Elephant pileups extended dodge distances.
Fleas and mantises kept spawning amid it. Fast movers—had to handle immediately.
Mana dipping dangerously. Barely ten seconds left.
Ashu said I didn't fear death.
Now I do. Not my death—hers, through our link.
Still not at Ice Breath River?
Dodging, fighting, wounding along the pillars.
My leather armor shredded, torn, even pierced.
Right now…
"Whoa?!"
Elephant horn impaled my chest.
Normally, such a telegraphed move? Easy dodge. But accumulated injuries and fatigue shattered focus for a split second.
As I thought, Dead like it's someone else's problem, my body was already airborne.
Thought skewered—but the Prosek hero's inscription gleamed through the hole in my chest.
This mithril plate saved my life twice… Urk!!
I hurtled through dozens of branches midair, smashing into the next ice pillar.
Blacked out briefly.
Body-crushing injuries… would've been fatal.
Snapped awake vomiting blood.
Ashu okay?
If I survive, first grovel in apology.
Gotta stand.
But limbs won't respond.
No visible trauma, but minor wounds bled me out in the interim.
Apart from injuries, head throbbed.
This headache meant it.
Mana… depleted.