Chương 122: They Were Looking in the Wrong Direction

Sieghart remained crouched behind the supply rack, studying the central enclosure while dozens of orcs guarded every entrance and several archers continued watching the night sky. Charging straight through them would be stupid. Even if he killed the first group quickly, hundreds more occupied the surrounding camp and would swarm him immediately. He needed to isolate them somehow, not by walls or earth, but by ruining their ability to see, communicate, and move together.

Sieghart glanced toward several water barrels stacked beside a nearby tent, then toward the cold night air and the many campfires burning throughout the enclosure. An idea formed almost immediately. If he could create enough moisture, cool the lower air, and heat the upper layer, he could manufacture dense mist quickly. He extended one hand toward the nearest barrels and quietly used Water Creation, adding more liquid until several containers overflowed across the trampled ground.

Next, he spread Ice Magic through the soaked earth, lowering the temperature around the water while carefully keeping the frozen area hidden behind nearby supplies. The water cooled rapidly. Sieghart then created several small flames above the chilled area, heating the moist air without producing enough light to reveal his position. Cold moisture remained near the ground while warmer air rose above it, and a faint white haze began gathering between the crates and tents.

The first mist was thin enough to be useless, but Sieghart had Infinite Mana and absolutely no reason to remain satisfied with a natural amount. He created more water, expanded the chilled area, and added more controlled heat until the difference in temperature caused vapor to gather much faster. Then he added Wind Magic, not as a violent blast, but as several rotating currents that pulled the mist sideways without allowing it to disperse upward. The effect spread like stirred smoke.

White haze rolled between tents, curled around barricades, and swallowed the nearest patrol route before anyone understood the source. Several orcs finally noticed the growing fog and shouted warnings, but Sieghart had already expanded the process across multiple points around the camp. Water flooded new sections, ice chilled the lowest air, and carefully controlled flames accelerated evaporation while the wind carried everything deeper through the encampment. Within minutes, the camp began disappearing.

Torches became blurry orange circles inside the haze before entire tents, warriors, barricades, and pathways vanished from sight. Sieghart moved while maintaining the spells, spreading the mist outward rather than remaining near one location long enough for anyone to identify him. The orcs began shouting louder. Some called for officers, others demanded torches, and several simply moved toward whatever direction they remembered leading toward the center.

Orders soon echoed from different places, but the mist made direction difficult to judge, causing several groups to follow the wrong voices and collide with one another. Sieghart activated Enhanced Smell and regretted it immediately. Sweat, blood, smoke, leather, old food, animal waste, and several other odors struck him simultaneously. The spell remained useful despite the punishment. Every nearby orc stood out as a dense concentration of sweat, blood, metal, and extremely questionable hygiene.

Whoever invented deodorant in this world could probably become rich selling it to orcs, assuming the orcs were bothered by their own smell. Judging from what Enhanced Smell was telling him, several warriors had apparently declared war on bathing long before deciding to wage war against humanity. There was also far too much ass sweat in the surrounding air, and Sieghart lowered the enhancement slightly before learning anything more. A silhouette appeared roughly ten meters ahead.

Sieghart created a Wind Blade while the orc stepped through the fog, staring blindly toward one side. He released the spell. The compressed blade crossed the orc's neck before it noticed him, and the body dropped heavily onto the mist-covered ground. Another warrior approached after smelling the blood, but Sieghart moved first and sent another Wind Blade through its throat before it could shout. The mist had become Sieghart's battlefield.

He avoided groups, waited for individuals to separate, and killed them before they could understand which direction the attacks came from. Wind Blades crossed the fog almost silently. Bodies fell, blood spread across the frozen ground, and the smell gradually became strong enough to alert nearby warriors. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The orcs began adapting.

Several struck weapons against shields whenever they located allies, creating crude sound markers that helped separated groups gather inside the mist. Sieghart immediately understood the tactic. Powerful enemies were dangerous, but powerful enemies capable of reorganizing while blinded were considerably more troublesome. He moved deeper into the fog and continued eliminating isolated warriors, using Enhanced Smell to identify targets before they could become part of larger formations.

Then he detected three approaching scents at once. They were close, moving quickly, and coming from different directions around his position. Sieghart stopped and prepared three Wind Blades just as the silhouettes appeared through the mist, each already holding a weapon instead of wandering blindly. The first orc roared. The second raised an axe, while the third shouted loudly enough that Sieghart immediately recognized the sound as a warning. He released all three Wind Blades.

Two orcs died instantly, while the third managed one desperate swing before the final blade crossed its throat. The three bodies collapsed, but their warning had already echoed through the camp. Answering roars sounded almost immediately from several directions around Sieghart. He strengthened Enhanced Smell and instantly detected dozens of approaching warriors. More scents continued appearing behind them as separate groups converged toward the same location. Sieghart clicked his tongue.

The mist still prevented proper coordination, but enough enemies were surrounding him that eventually somebody would find him through simple probability. The first group appeared through the fog, followed by another formation approaching from the opposite direction while still more warriors closed from behind them. Sieghart lowered both hands toward the ground. If they wanted to surround him on foot, then he only needed to make standing difficult.

Frozen Field spread outward rapidly, covering trampled dirt, stones, grass, blood, and wooden debris beneath a smooth layer of hardened ice. The first orcs reached it at full speed and immediately lost balance, crashing backward or colliding with companions who could not see the frozen surface. More warriors entered from behind and fell as well. Axes slipped from hands, shields spun away, and several orcs slid directly into supply crates.

Sieghart moved across the ice with far greater control, using his earlier training with Frozen Floor to maintain balance while everyone around him struggled. He began finishing them systematically. Wind Blades severed exposed necks, while Earth Bullets crushed skulls whenever armor or awkward positioning made clean cuts unreliable. One warrior attempted crawling instead of standing, which worked better until a Stone Bullet struck its forehead and drove its face back into the ice.

For several minutes, the fight became almost embarrassingly one-sided. The mist blinded them, the ice ruined their footing, and Sieghart kept attacking from changing directions. Then Enhanced Smell detected something different approaching through the fog, something carrying overwhelming traces of sweat, blood, leather, smoke, metal, and animal musk. Sieghart stopped attacking and looked upward as an enormous shadow appeared above the mist, descending far too quickly for anything that large.

"Shit!" He blasted Wind Magic from both hands and launched himself sideways just before the descending figure smashed into the place where he had been standing. The impact shattered the Frozen Field. Ice exploded outward, the earth cratered, and a shockwave tore through the surrounding mist with violent force. Sieghart landed several meters away and rolled before regaining his footing, keeping Wind Magic ready while the fog continued retreating from the impact.

For the first time since creating the mist, he could see clearly. Corpses surrounded the crater while broken ice and shattered debris covered the ground. Several nearby orcs had been thrown aside by the impact despite belonging to the same army as whoever had just landed. Then the figure stood, and Sieghart had to tilt his head upward farther than expected just to see the creature's face.

The Orc King stood nearly three meters tall, with enormous shoulders, thick muscles, scarred yellow skin, and dark hair covering his forearms, back, and chest. His armor looked assembled from several heavy sets, reinforced with monster hide, chains, thick plates, and pieces of human-made equipment taken from previous battles. A massive weapon rested in one hand, resembling a brutal mixture between a cleaver and war hammer with enough metal to crush ordinary soldiers effortlessly.

Dark-red eyes found Sieghart immediately. A heavy pressure followed, something resembling Aura but rougher and more oppressive than the reinforcement used by normal humans. The Orc King straightened while nearby warriors stopped moving. Even the shouting beyond the clearing became quieter as more orcs realized who had landed. Sieghart remained still. This was the ruler who broke the northern army, controlled corrupted warriors, and maintained authority by proving his strength personally.

The King studied Sieghart's older illusory appearance, then examined the thinning mist, frozen ground, scattered corpses, and destroyed sections surrounding the crater. Finally, the enormous orc smiled, revealing too many sharp teeth while tightening one hand around the handle of his monstrous weapon.

"You must be the flying mage." Sieghart stared back without answering. After two nights of searching, the introductions were finally over, and the enemy he wanted had come directly to him.