The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 279: The Strange Mist Monsters

The mist swirled thickly around the camp, twisting like tendrils of smoke under the pale light of the fire. Shadows danced at the edges of the ruins, flickering in time with the flames, their movements unsettlingly lifelike. Mikhailis leaned casually against a broken beam, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond. The quiet hum of Rodion’s analysis buzzed faintly in his ear.

Mikhailis’s lips twitched in a faint smirk as he straightened.

"Well, someone’s feeling frisky tonight," he muttered under his breath, his tone light but his gaze sharp. He gestured subtly with two fingers, signaling the group to hold their positions.

Cerys, ever vigilant, tightened her grip on her sword. Her emerald eyes scanned the mist, her stance calm but ready. Beside her, Vyrelda moved with practiced precision, her blade gleaming faintly in the firelight.

"You hear that?" Cerys whispered, her voice low but steady.

Vyrelda gave a curt nod, her expression hard.

"Something’s out there."

The rustling intensified, and Mikhailis’s smirk faded. From the mist, grotesque figures began to emerge, their warped forms illuminated briefly by the flickering flames. The creatures were a chilling sight to behold—once ordinary denizens of the forest, now grotesquely transformed by some malignant force. Their bloated bodies bulged unnaturally, veins pulsing beneath taut, discolored skin. Their eyes glowed an eerie red, burning with a feral intensity that betrayed no reason, only primal rage. Some bore jagged claws or fractured limbs that twisted at unnatural angles, while others were covered in a shimmering, viscous substance that oozed from open sores. Their movements were erratic yet purposeful, as if struggling against an invisible torment that urged them forward.

Mikhailis’s sharp gaze didn’t waver as he subtly adjusted his glasses, his mind racing.

This isn’t natural.

"Well, aren’t you a charming bunch," Mikhailis quipped, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Despite the humor in his voice, his fingers brushed the hilt of his dagger, a subtle motion that didn’t go unnoticed by his team. He flicked his gaze toward the approaching monstrosities, their grotesque forms casting unnatural shadows against the mist. "Rodion, give me specifics."

Rodion’s voice was calm and precise, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere.

Mikhailis’s brow furrowed as Rodion’s analysis streamed through his glasses.

So, not just monsters—they’re victims. Someone or something did this to them.

"Care to elaborate, Rodion?" he murmured, his voice low enough not to draw attention.

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"Deliberate, huh?" Mikhailis muttered, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

"Just my luck."

Rodion continued, his voice unwavering.

Mikhailis’s smirk faded as he absorbed the information. His gaze flicked to the monsters, now moving closer with unnerving coordination, their eyes glowing with an almost malevolent light.

"So, not only are they corrupted, but they’re also tools?" he asked, the humor gone from his voice.

"Whoever’s behind this isn’t just trying to kill people—they’re testing something."

Mikhailis exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his dagger.

"Rodion, keep tracking. I want to know exactly where this mist is coming from."

Mikhailis turned his attention back to the group, who were already on high alert. Cerys stood at the front, her sword gleaming as she adjusted her stance, her expression fierce and unyielding. Lira was close by, her sharp eyes darting between the monsters and Mikhailis, clearly waiting for his command. Estella, still holding the ward, looked more serious than he’d ever seen her, while Rhea’s calm demeanor masked the tension in her shoulders.

"They’re not just regular monsters," Mikhailis said, his voice steady but loud enough for the group to hear.

"They’ve been contaminated—probably by someone with serious alchemical skills. Could be tied to the Technomancer League."

Cerys glanced back at him, her green eyes narrowing.

"Contaminated how?"

"Think of it like poisoning the air," he replied, gesturing toward the mist.

"Whatever’s in this fog has turned them into hyper-aggressive, nearly indestructible beasts. Lovely, right?"

Lira’s gaze sharpened. "And you’re sure this wasn’t natural?"

"Not even close," Mikhailis said with a dry chuckle.

"Orders?" Cerys asked, her voice clipped but steady as her knuckles whitened around her sword.

Mikhailis’s expression darkened.

"Hold the line," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for debate.

"Cerys, Vyrelda, Rhea—front defense. Keep them from breaking through. Lira, secure the rear. Estella, reinforce the wards. And no one gets too close—whatever’s on them could be contagious."

Estella’s voice rose above the low growl emanating from the creatures. "Already on it. Don’t let them near the perimeter."

The creatures advanced, and Mikhailis noted with grim fascination the varied forms of corruption: one monster’s bloated form ruptured briefly, emitting a thick, acrid mist, while another dragged a limb fused with jagged stone, leaving grooves in the earth. The diversity in deformities made it clear—these were not simply creatures gone mad; they were manifestations of an insidious contamination that adapted with frightening variability.

Mikhailis’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing.

If the mist did this to them, then getting any closer could be dangerous. We’ll need to act fast… but carefully.

Rodion’s voice cut through the chaos, precise and unyielding.

"Noted," Mikhailis muttered, his eyes darting over the creatures. He raised his voice.

Mikhailis’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger as Rodion continued, the calm, clipped tone contrasting with the grotesque reality of the creatures advancing.

Rodion’s tone shifted slightly, tinged with a faint undercurrent of calculated judgment.

Mikhailis nodded subtly, his mind racing to absorb the information. So, they’re not just monsters anymore—they’re weapons in a twisted experiment.

He glanced at the group, his voice steady but urgent.

"Focus on their weak spots—chest, joints, and head. Aim to disrupt their movements first. Don’t let them swarm."