Bear School Astartes

Moreover, Lann could be sure the Fog Demon he’d just stabbed to Death wasn’t one of those common phantoms.

Some Fog Demons that have lived quite a long time and fully developed their abilities can shape the mist into their own likeness.

They make an illusory clone that can attack and confuse enemies.

But when that clone is broken, it behaves like a video suddenly crashing.

The Magic mist structure composing the clone hits its limit and collapses—the clone freezes for a moment, then vanishes straight away.

Yet just now Lann had watched the entire process with his own eyes.

That Fog Demon twitched when he stabbed it, then pitched forward onto the ground—that is not how a Magic phantom behaves.

That reaction belongs to living creatures.

Demon Hunters are experts in researching and learning monster lore; back in Ker Morhan there’s a hefty tome, dictionary-thick, just about the two related yet distinct creatures Ghoul and Great Ghoul.

Any minute biological difference can be enough to get a Demon Hunter killed on a contract.

So their research on monsters strives to be thorough down to the smallest detail, making careful distinctions and judgments.

Lann was confident he would never mistake a Magic mist phantom for a real Fog Demon.

But that only made it more absurd... he had truly never heard of any kind of Fog Demon that, after dying, left behind no bloody corpse at all, and instead dissolved into mist!

If you gave this kind of job to Demon Hunters, they wouldn’t even have a head to take back as proof of completion to claim the bounty!

Meanwhile, on the other side, the bunch of Squirrel Faction members Lann had knocked flat on the ground earlier—

Right now, they too were stirring their heads with difficulty under the刺激 of the mist creeping over the ground, shaking themselves a little closer to their senses.

Lann hadn’t been aiming to kill them, so at worst they had broken bones or a concussion.

Once the mist, reeking of a metallic blood-stench, flooded into their nasal cavities, it刺激ed them into opening their eyes one after another.

Then they all screamed in terror like waking from a nightmare, but to anyone else they were just opening their mouths in vain, the sound faint and far away.

At the same time, the mist itself began to quietly surge and flow.

Suddenly, in the milky-white fog, another withered, hunched, twisted silhouette condensed into shape.

Without a sound it swung its claws toward a Half-Elf.

The Half-Elf remained blankly unaware; it was the Dwarf standing opposite him who raised his Crossbow Arrow toward the Half-Elf’s back.

The Dwarf’s beard flared, his mouth yawned wide, yet his voice could not reach the Half-Elf’s ears, a mere ten meters away.

A Crossbow Arrow shot out, grazing the Half-Elf’s clothes and nailing into the Fog Demon’s body.

Only then did he whip around, and the Half-Elf’s one-handed axe hacked wildly at the Fog Demon in fright.

The Dwarf’s and Half-Elf’s movements drew the attention of more people; those around the Half-Elf forced down the dizziness and pain Lann’s beating had left them with.

Each drew their weapon, surrounding and attacking that revealed Fog Demon.

Their iron weapons battered it, sending it staggering all over the place; only after taking dozens of hits did it finally disperse again.

The whole process was silent, utterly still.

That only further convinced Lann that thing was absolutely not a Magic mist clone.

Ordinary iron weapons aren’t Demon Hunter Silver Swords, but that impact felt almost exactly like hitting a solid monster.

Iron swords do have an effect; they’re just not as clean and decisive against monsters as Silver Swords.

It was nothing like that unreal sensation of swinging at a Magic clone you can’t truly cut.

After the Squirrel Faction cut down one Fog Demon, they stared at each other, still shaken, and tried to move closer and shout.

Closing the distance when speaking did help somewhat against the mist’s abnormal sound-absorbing effect.

They managed, barely, to communicate a little.

The fear in their eyes made it clear they knew what this mist signified... they had already stepped into that unknown creature’s feeding grounds.

Lann stood not far away, the Squirrel Faction members glaring with hatred at the tall yet hazy Demon Hunter looming in the mist.

But in the end, no one raised a hand against him again.

Everyone watched their surroundings with caution and kept moving.

The Elf woman also forced herself up from where she’d been lying on her back, one hand clamped over her spine, the other slowly pushing herself upright.

Immediately after, a sharp rush of air sliced past the Elf woman’s cheek, skimming her hair.

The fierce airflow even carved a brief vacuum trail through the mist.

The Elf woman was half a beat slow in turning toward the Demon Hunter, only to see him just then withdrawing the leg he’d kicked out.

She turned her head again.

Behind her, a silent Fog Demon was pinned to the tree trunk by an Elf Long Blade, its body already collapsing back into mist.

Only that Elf Long Blade remained, its blade quivering to itself nonstop.

"People always struggle when they’re about to die, don’t they?"

Lann gave a soft snort and shifted his gaze away from the Elf woman.

The Elf woman only saw his lips move; she heard nothing at all.

But his actions had already said everything that needed saying.

She bit her blood-stained teeth and twisted her head to look at her own blade sticking out of the tree trunk.

First she braced herself on the hilt, staggering to her feet, then yanked it out and raised it before her in a defensive stance.

Aside from those who are determined to seek Death, most people, one way or another, will struggle before they die.

Especially this lot, whose plan from the start had been to preserve their own lives.

"You just broke one of my ribs!" the Elf woman paced up to Lann’s side, yelling with her mouth stretched wide and veins bulging on her neck.

She seemed to want to vent the pain in her body through the volume of her voice, but in Lann’s ears it was as soft as a whisper.

"Being alive today just means you got lucky, lady."

Lann’s faintly glowing eyes swept around, and he was shouting too.

"Right now we need to think of something together—tell me what the hell is going on!"

The fog’s sound‑devouring nature meant that even though their hearts were racing and their breathing had quickened, with so many people crowded together it was still deathly silent.

And communication efficiency had plunged to rock bottom.

"These things are all just small fry!"

The Elf woman pointed around as she yelled; the pain and the throat‑ripping screams had plastered her short hair to her forehead.

"You do not want to see the thing in the middle of this fog! No one sees it and lives! Our only hope is to run out, fast!"

With that, the Elf woman carefully edged closer to the other members of the Squirrel Faction.

What she’d just said to Lann was mainly to get this powerful Warrior to move with them, to squeeze out a bit more chance of survival.

Another Fog Demon slipped out of the fog in utter silence. This time it appeared from a blind spot in their field of vision, and with one swipe of its claw it knocked a Half-Elf flat.

The shake of the Half-Elf hitting the ground drew the attention of the people nearby; only then did they swarm it with wild swings and hack this Fog Demon to death.

The Half-Elf clutched his head as he wobbled back to his feet.

If he hadn’t been wearing a gorget, that Fog Demon’s claw earlier would’ve been enough to dig from the back of his neck all the way into his cervical vertebrae.

The Elf woman waved at Lann, signaling him to hurry up and follow.

The fog was growing thicker and thicker; the milky white in the air was getting denser. Visibility had already been squeezed from ten meters down to around five.

And the bad news didn’t end there.

Lann twisted aside, dodging the sudden swipe of a Fog Demon’s claw, and slammed a reverse punch out!

There was no sound, but the knuckles of that fist drove several rings of milky‑white shockwaves through the fog.

At the center of those circular waves, the fist smashed into the Fog Demon’s head—under the heavy force that twisted, deformed skull finally shattered, bone breaking free of its meat wrapping.

Blood and flesh fanned out into a splatter‑pattern impact plane, then faded into the mist.

And in Lann’s other hand, Aron Dite stabbed precisely into the mouth of a Fog Demon the instant it appeared, the sharp blade tip punching out through the back of its skull.

More and more Fog Demons were appearing, and appearing more and more frequently.

Just now, even though they’d been terrified, the Squirrel Faction people had at least been trying hard to pull back; now even moving had become difficult.

Because they had absolutely no idea where a Fog Demon might suddenly appear, soundless and unseen.

Having everyone watch each other’s blind spots and form a line would solve that problem.

But that kind of formation, without prolonged practice or an insane level of organization and mutual understanding, is nothing but empty talk.

The Squirrel Faction obviously hadn’t trained for this sort of thing, and the trust and coordination between them wasn’t up to par.

So after five minutes they’d managed to move less than fifty meters. And every one of them looked mentally drained, sweat soaking their heads.

Despair crept onto the Elf woman’s face.

Because based on what they knew of the fog, the thicker the mist and the more frequently the Fog Demons appeared, the more it meant... they were already getting closer and closer to the center!

"It’s coming for us!" the Elf woman screamed, venting her terror. "Why is it like this! It’s not just passing by us! It’s coming straight at us! This isn’t right!"

But under the white haze, her voice was nothing more than a mutter.

And it couldn’t travel far at all.

Elsewhere, not far in a straight line from the Squirrel Faction, was Lann.

He’d started scanning his surroundings with a hyper‑alert expression.

Because all around him, a lot of broken trees were slowly toppling.

In a normal environment, that would trigger a string of wooden tissue tearing "creak"s, followed by the dull thud of trunks slamming into the ground.

But in this white fog, all he could feel was the tremor under his feet—there wasn’t any sound at all.

Those thick trunks were like brittle stick‑shaped biscuits, easily crushed and snapped.

The dense fog swirled; behind Lann, deep within the milky mist, a colossal shadow was slowly closing in.

The closer that shadow came, the more massive its bulk seemed.

The surrounding trees were pathetically fragile beside it, yet its movement didn’t seem to cause the slightest tremor.

Which meant Lann only knew there was something near him, but couldn’t use ground vibration to pinpoint where it was.

Everything remained drowned in a Death‑like silence.

In the thick fog, right at the heart of that shadow, a pair of small, yellowish reptilian eyes stared at the Demon Hunter’s back.

And then...

A vicious, gigantic maw slowly but powerfully cranked open, like something with a wound‑up spring—and then plunged down from above!

The whole process was still utterly soundless.

But the Demon Hunter with his back turned to it, those amber cat eyes of his calmly shifted.

Thick fog had one perk—when it was disturbed, it became painfully obvious!

Acceleration Technique!

Lann’s body suddenly blurred into a streak of blue smoke and vanished.

And in the very next instant, that demonic massive lower jaw plowed savagely into the earth.

Countless broken teeth exploded out under the pressure, flying in all directions!

Far away, where Lann had dropped his stance low and sunk his center of gravity to brake to a halt, his eyes narrowed—this was the first time he’d seen the core of this anomaly.

"Ibilujiu..."

The Demon Hunter first gave the scientific name of the creature in front of him with professional calm, and only then did he speak the common name that was feared and reviled in another world.

"Terror Tyrannosaurus!!!"