Mage? Magic Engineer!

The fire sought to devour everything: buildings, invaders, defenders...

"Turtle" Hench witnessed everything from a tower on the north shore. He flung his telescope aside and furiously grabbed the collar of the person next to him.

No one, besides Hench himself, could have foreseen him punching the supreme commander of the defending forces, Ilysov. It was a solid blow. Ilysov’s age-slackened cheek distorted completely, a spray of blood testifying to the force of Hench’s punch.

It all happened in an instant. No one saw General Ilysov’s expression as the blow landed. By the time the guards and other officers pulled the rampaging Hench away, the old general’s face was once again a mask of calm indifference. He simply took out the silk cloth he used for polishing his sword and wiped away the blood.

"Major General Hench, I must remind you that when I proposed the scorched-earth plan, you agreed. In fact, we all reached a consensus: even in retreat, we would leave nothing for the Valois people."

"You know damn well it was meant for when we retreat!" Hench lashed out with another kick, but his target was out of range. He demanded furiously, "Then why is the South Shore District already burning? Huh?"

"Retreat? What retreat? The only things I see are that we have the means to set the entire city ablaze, that large numbers of Valois people have already infiltrated the south shore, and that our duty is to stop the rampage of the National Guard’s Eastern Front Army. At a time like this, anyone still thinking of retreat is guilty of gross dereliction of duty. We must assess the current situation and use every available means and opportunity to annihilate the enemy."

"Then you should have thought about the civilians! You were the one who ordered troops to block the docks and bridges during yesterday’s evacuation, restricting the South Shore residents from leaving! Do you want His Majesty’s subjects to be buried along with the Valois people? Reinforcements from the Western Line are about to arrive, why couldn’t you wait?"

"Wait? You put that much faith in reinforcements? Decades of military experience have taught me that a good commander always operates under the assumption that reinforcements will *not* arrive! As for this talk of a ’funeral sacrifice,’ it’s ridiculous. Hench, where has your sense of honor gone? Those people are clearly making a sacrifice for the entire Empire."

"Bullshit! You bastard! You old fossil..." Hench cursed. "You call this a sacrifice? I will report this to His Majesty the Emperor!"

"The Emperor? Fine. We can report to the Emperor."

As the two commanders argued, the fire raged even more fiercely. The flames themselves were not inextinguishable, but a strange, dangerous ash drifted across the city’s entire south shore. Anything this ash touched would erupt with immense heat, brutally igniting all it contacted.

In the streets, countless people shrieked in agony, rolling on the ground. Engulfed in raging flames, it was impossible to distinguish the Valois people from the Empire People as their faces melted and carbonized...

"This is large-scale Magic or a Divine Art! Damn it, to think the Empire would resort to this... Are they trying to take us and everyone on the south shore down with them?" The front-line command post descended into chaos as they watched their vanguard and all their war machines be consumed by the inferno.

Paul yelled to Pascal, "Gather all the Casters and split them into two teams! You take one team and organize a group casting—wind, rain, whatever it takes—find a way to put this fire out!"

"And the other team?"

"I’ll lead them. We’re going to find the Empire’s Forbidden Magic Devices and reactivate them! Fire doesn’t work this way, with ash falling first. We have to shut down whatever dirty trick this is..."

"Are you crazy? We’ve already destroyed almost all of the exposed devices."

"Then what else can we do? We never should have started this campaign!" Paul slammed his fist on the table, then forced himself to calm down and search for another solution.

...

The unnatural fire burned for a day and a night. During that time, the National Guard forces that had rashly advanced into the city’s south shore and suffered heavy losses fought another battle along the riverbank against the defending Empire Army, which had sallied out to engage them.

The National Guard’s vanguard was now trapped in the inferno, with no hope of escape. Fortunately, the Empire Army’s sally across the river gave the remnants outside the city time to react; otherwise, Paul would not have had the chance to lead his elites and salvage the rest of the main force.

Pascal, who was covered in a cold sweat after nearly being captured while trying to approach the city to fight the fire, muttered, ’Strange... I heard the Turtle Major General was the type to fight a static, defensive war. Why would he take the initiative and attack? Could our intelligence have been wrong?’

"That’s why I said not to predict an army’s movements based solely on its commander while ignoring other possibilities," Paul said as he rallied his troops. His attention returned to the south shore of Ovord. "The fire is almost out."

Only a scorched ruin remained of that part of the city. Its broken walls faced the intact buildings on the north shore in silence from across the river. The Valois people now had to accept that if they continued their attack on the north shore, the maddened defenders would simply repeat the same tactic, ensuring they gained no intact spoils of war, and certainly no supplies.

"We need to retreat. The defenders here aren’t the real threat; otherwise, they wouldn’t have resorted to such a vile tactic," Paul said, reining in his horse, his breath fogging in the cold air. "But the elites of the Western Empire Army should be here by now."

"Is anyone still alive?"

"There’s no time to treat the wounded. They’ll only slow our march... Huh?"

Soon, all the troops surrounding the burned-out ruins noticed something. Many of the ’survivors’ began to struggle, crawling out of the devastation. As they moved, their charred husks cracked and fell away, revealing buds of raw, pink flesh that intertwined into molten shapes.

More and more of these things crawled out. It was impossible to tell if they had once been soldiers or civilians, Valois people or Empire People, men or women, young or old. Even their facial features were gone, with only a few blurry hollows occasionally visible.

And they were definitely moving, faster and faster. Some sprinted toward the National Guard, while others plunged into the cold river, washing away the ash before crawling onto the city’s north shore.

"Bullets have no effect!" the soldiers discovered. Projectiles could pierce the masses of flesh, but the buds of flesh would quickly mend the holes. There was an even more sickening outcome: a fleshy mass riddled with too many bullets or blasted by a cannonball would spontaneously disintegrate, and its aggressive tendrils of flesh would latch onto other monsters or even living people.

"The Fireball Skill doesn’t work either." The Mages discovered the creatures possessed an unnatural Vitality. Having already emerged from a conflagration, a direct hit from a Fireball Skill would only form another charred crust on their surface. But as long as they weren’t "cooked through," new flesh would burst out, and the monster would continue its advance.

’Nearly half the city’s residents, plus our vanguard... have they all turned into these things?’ Paul shivered.

...

"Brother Ilysov really has some skill, sacrificing half a city to Mother. A pity, a real pity... because now that I’m here, I’ll be offering the entire country to her!" Gregory let out a drunken hiccup. He had just arrived from the Imperial Capital to the northeast and was taking in the "grand spectacle" on the south shore.

Finding his mount too slow for his liking, he dismounted and went to its head. First, he smeared a handful of herbs on the horse’s nose, then he shoved his own flask into its mouth.

With that done, man and horse, both intoxicated, galloped off under the winter sun, a drunken blur across the land.