Smoke of Madness
Night deepened by degrees, and the darkness thickened.
Gray mist blanketed the surroundings beyond the gloom like a silver curtain.
Swoosh.
At its heart, Arteon quietly raised his hand and clenched his fist.
In that instant the soldiers trailing him all flinched and stared at his back.
From the Fourth Defensive Line all the way here they had marched without rest, yet the unfamiliar commander never once showed fatigue or let his focus slip.
…What the hell is this guy?
They said he was a newcomer… so how does he know every path?
They had even taken shortcuts unfamiliar to the men themselves, and so they had arrived far sooner than expected.
But…
“Hoo…”
Arteon steadied his ragged breathing and looked down at the Kar tribe below.
Did we just make it in time?
Their advance had been faster than he anticipated. Without the shortcut they might well have reached the point after the enemy.
He turned to face his men.
“Squad leaders, forward.”
Ssssh!
Ten men to a squad. The pre-designated leaders stepped up, and Arteon unfolded a map.
“This is our position. The Kar are moving along this route.”
He traced the path with his finger. With the enemy so near, the men’s concentration was absolute; every one of them listened as though missing a single word would be unforgivable.
Arteon looked to the first squad leader.
“Bruel, take your men here and go to ground.”
A nod.
“Dran, you take this side.”
A nod.
“Tormant. Move here and hold the position.”
A nod.
When all three had acknowledged, Arteon held out two pouches to each of them—pouches filled with Cheonilseok and Jeokyeolseok.
“There are enough. The moment I raise smoke, light your fires at once and burn the Pimacho.”
Then the most critical order:
“Once they breathe the smoke their formation will break, one way or another. Until I give the signal, do absolutely nothing. Remember that.”
That was all. Arteon descended the shallow slope and pointed each man toward his sector. Bruel, Dran, and Tormant nodded, dropped low with their squads, and slipped away to their assigned points.
And then…
“…”
Beyond the mist he felt them drawing nearer. Darkness and fog made precise identification impossible.
About fifty meters…
Close enough that a fall would put a nose in the dirt. Arteon killed even his breathing and watched in silence.
But—
They halted.
“…?”
The advancing warriors suddenly stopped and began re-forming ranks. A faint crease appeared between Arteon’s brows.
Just a little closer…
From the ridge earlier he had counted roughly four hundred. To swallow them completely from this point they needed to come inside thirty meters at least.
We wait.
He sank deeper into the brush and reined in his mana, wary of any enemy commander who might sense his presence.
Time crawled. Their pace was slow, yet they edged forward little by little.
Then a voice carried through the mist.
“A little farther and we’ll reach ground good enough for a proper base. Once we dig in there, they won’t be able to approach the lake at all.”
Not the supreme commander, but an officer of rank. Arteon carefully drew out the Cheonilseok and Jeokyeolseok.
Commander at the front, is it?
Given Kar custom it was entirely possible. The strongest often led from the van.
Their talk continued. Arteon sharpened every sense and slowly brought the two stones together in his hands.
Just a little… a little more…
The instant he lit the smoke here, the men posted to the rear would do the same. Smoke rising from four directions would mingle with the mist and swallow the Kar whole.
A warrior stepped forward.
“Everything they possess will be ours.”
The air itself seemed to vibrate with a silent roar.
Right then—
Grrrrrind!
Arteon scraped the Cheonilseok hard against the Jeokyeolseok and set fire to the Pimacho carpeting the ground. The sparks burned far hotter than ordinary flame. They seized the damp herb and every plant around it, racing outward in a hungry wave.
Pssssssssssssssss.
Smoke billowed across his vision. He shifted sideways at once and kindled another patch. On his signal the three squads lit their own Pimacho.
Pssssssssssss.
“Search the area! Now!”
Agitated Kar warriors fanned out in every direction. But the smoke had already risen fully.
Done…!
Watching it seep into the mist, Arteon fell back at speed toward the rally point.
Pabat! Tadadadadak!
“Over there! Something from that way!”
“This side too! Ambush!”
The Kar shouted at the sounds of Arteon and his men moving. Yet the pursuit that had seemed imminent simply died away.
And then—
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!”
“Kuaaaaaaaak!”
Screams tore through the mist. Arteon ignored them and waited at the rendezvous.
Tadadadadadadadadak!
Men came pounding in from both flanks. Arteon faced the three squad leaders.
“First phase successful. The real work starts now.”
“We’re not attacking yet?”
“Those screams just now… what were they?”
Tormant, third squad leader, asked. The others looked equally curious.
“It means the operation worked.”
Arteon kept his senses stretched forward, eyes fixed on the fog.
From the nature of those cries…
True to a warrior people, the hallucinations hit them hard and hot.
They were clearly turning on their own. If it continued this way they might not even need to intervene—but the world was never that kind.
If mere Pimacho smoke could wipe out the Kar, the northern war would have ended years ago.
Five minutes at most.
That was how long the hallucinations would keep dealing real damage. After that, partial immunity would set in and the effect would halve.
So—
The moment they try to pull themselves together…
That was when they would strike.
Arteon drew the throwing spears from his back. His men likewise readied spears and the bows they had brought.
“First squad with me. The rest spread wide here and attack on my signal. If they close on you, avoid melee at all costs and fall back to the next point.”
“Understood.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dran and Tormant answered. Arteon looked to Bruel. The first squad leader nodded.
“Move. Stay as low as you can.”
Tadak!
Arteon launched himself sideways; Bruel and his men followed hard on his heels.
“Kuaaaaaak!”
“Uwaaaak!”
Screams still rolled out of the mist. Commanders seemed to be trying to restore order, but—
Controlling four hundred-plus men is impossible from the start.
Mid-tier warriors and above would feel the hallucinations only weakly.
The chaos will end soon.
Before it did—
Tadak!
Arteon dropped even lower, using the brush as a screen, and raced along the enemy’s flank.
And—
“…Insane.”
“Huk… huk… huk…!”
The breathing of the men behind him grew steadily harsher. They had to stay crouched beneath waist-high brush while moving at speed.
How does he move that fast like that…?
I’ve never seen that posture. Is he sitting and running at the same time?
Arteon’s strange gait was blisteringly quick. Where they bent double and ran, he kept his head up for vision while driving forward in a low, bent-legged duck walk.
Bruel suddenly remembered the soldiers who had lately been drilling in odd postures around the parade ground.
He bit his lip hard.
All of it… was for this.
The man called Arteon grew more intriguing by the moment. Movement like that would be perfect for the lake country.
“Catch up. Faster.”
“…Yes.”
“Understood.”
The squad answered under their breath and poured on speed.
When they finally reached the position Arteon had chosen—
“Heok… heok… heok…!”
Lungs felt ready to burst; waists screamed as though they would snap. For them, the only way to run low and fast had been to fold at the waist.
Arteon spoke calmly.
“Steady your breathing. In spear-throwing, breath is everything.”
They scrambled to obey and looked ahead.
Where the mist had blinded them before, the battlefield now lay clear—and it was pure pandemonium.
…This is what Pimacho smoke does?
Even seeing it, they could scarcely believe. The Kar were slaughtering one another as though black magic had seized them.
But soon—
“Ugh…”
“W-what have I done…?”
“Pa… Pakutarun!”
Men returning to their senses stared in horror at the carnage they had wrought, faces twisted with despair.
This was the moment their spirit was most broken.
“Now!”
Arteon rose above the brush and hurled the spear in his hand at the nearest warrior.
Suaaaaaaak! Thud!
The shaft punched clean through the Kar’s chest and burst out the far side. The force flung the man backward; he was dead before he hit the ground.
“E-enemy!”
“Imperial ambush!”
The battlefield erupted into chaos. The rest of First Squad rose and loosed their spears as one.
Only Bruel kept his grip tight and waited for the order.
When I charge the enemy commander, put a spear in him.
Bruel was the finest thrower among them. Arteon had studied the dossiers of every elite selected for the unit; that was why the plan existed.
Killing small fry won’t be enough.
If the supreme commander lived, the Kar would reorganize and push forward again.
Arteon drew Iglis from his waist and poured mana into it. At the same time he swept the field with a sharp glance.
Four feather tattoos on a broad shoulder. The moment his eyes locked with Ulgraak—who stood gripping a massive axe—
Pabat!
Arteon charged straight at him.