As the strange fog clung to the battlefield, soldiers and beasts alike retreated from its reach. Cries rang out across the plain, men stumbling and screaming as though death itself were at their heels.

From Solmere City's camp, Biron could only watch the chaos unfold, the silver haze rolling in the distance.

"Do you think we should run?" Paul asked, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he tried to get a clearer look.

"I think we're far enough away that it won't reach us… but what strange magic. I've never seen or even heard of anything like it," Selka muttered. Her brow furrowed as her bird familiar took flight, wings cutting through the air toward the fog. She couldn't see through its eyes, but she listened instead, catching what sounds carried back.

Her face grew pale. "Many who were inside the fog died. Now that it's clearing, I hear reports of seven hundred dead maybe more. No one dares go closer."

The cadets exchanged horrified looks. The fog had stretched just far enough to swallow a single enemy camp, yet the toll was staggering.

Then they saw her. A silver dragon slipped above the walls, smaller than the legends claimed yet unmistakably powerful. She hovered over the field with quiet authority, watching like a predator choosing its next prey.

"Do you think that's the dragon? Why is it so small? I heard it was as big as a castle," Warren asked. His voice wavered as the armies around them began to mobilize, and he wondered uneasily whether they too would be called forward.

"I couldn't see clearly," Mirelia whispered, eyes narrowing, "but I think she was walking with the enemy as a human before she changed. I've only read of a few summons who could do such a thing… rare, old, and powerful. If she is one of them, then either her summoner is unlike any we've ever seen or the creature broke free. Maybe she even killed her master."

"Well, we can't get closer to really know what happened. We're just watching the supplies," Paul said with a sigh. His voice was tight, betraying the fear he tried to hide.

The fog had rolled less than half a kilometer from their camp. If it spread again, they could easily be next.

"Relax," Warren muttered, though his shiver ruined the effect. "The strongest summons are already out now. That first strike killed so many only because it caught them by surprise. I'd bet the fools from the Veylor Dominion said something to provoke her."

Selka smirked faintly. "Hard to take you seriously when you're shaking."

"Enough," Biron cut in, forcing to make his voice to sound steady. "Let's focus on our task. We need to make sure the cargo is secured. No need to bring our creatures out yet."

He turned to the wagon, undoing the straps. The officers had told them it was food, but Biron's instincts said otherwise. As an aether user, and one bound to a creature, he could feel it pulses of energy radiating from within. The cart wasn't full of grain or dried meat. It was packed with crystals.

His jaw tightened. If the dragon was searching for anything, it would be that.

"Listen," Biron said quietly, glancing over the squad. "If the dragon comes here… we run. You all know this isn't food, and if she wants what's inside, standing our ground will just get us killed. We'll be in far more trouble than any order or duty is worth."

The cadets exchanged uneasy looks, none daring to argue.

Soon the battle truly began. The first to advance was the Veylor Dominion, and the Molowisk loyalists were not far behind, driven by King Veynar Molokh's hunger to reclaim his throne.

This time, even the Calvesset Kingdom moved. They unleashed their best from the outset, sending forth creatures of all sizes. Yet none dared to close the distance. They halted a few hundred meters from the walls and unleashed a storm of skills toward the main gate.

Each strike hammered the stone until a section cracked and broke away. But when it fell, it crumbled as though made of sand, scattering into dust that drifted across the battlefield.

"Do you think they did anything?" Paul asked, frowning. "That attack… it seemed too weak for an army of thousands." He glanced at Selka, who had climbed partway onto the cart for a better view.

She shook her head. "Can't say. I'm not sending my bird any closer, that's for sure. I'd bet any moment now they'll hit back."

Her words proved true. Within seconds another ball of fog launched like a cannon shot over the wall, arcing high before landing near the enemy's central formation.

This time, the alliance was ready. Summoned beasts roared, unleashing torrents of flame, water, and stone in a desperate attempt to smother the strange magic. Yet the fog surged forward all the same, spreading like a rushing tide and swallowing the front lines in an unstoppable wave.

"Seems they were still too close," Selka muttered, her eyes narrowing as she tried to track the chaos. "This time the ones hit hardest are from the Calvesset Kingdom."

The cadets watched in tense silence as the fog consumed the vanguard. Those stationed at the very front vanished first, swallowed whole. Shouts turned to muffled cries, then silence, as the tide of white advanced, blotting out banners, beasts, and men alike.

No one could say how many had died, but from the look of it the toll had climbed into the thousands. Still, the battle did not cease. If anything, it grew fiercer. Those who survived unleashed another volley, stronger than before, hammering the walls with a rain of elemental strikes.

Another section of stone crumbled, collapsing in a spray of dust. Yet from behind the fortifications, no cries or shouts of panic were heard. It was as though the defenders had expected this level of retaliation.

"Why aren't they attacking though?" Biron muttered, narrowing his eyes. "What's their plan?"

On the other side of the wall, Fay already knew. He and his companions had pulled back from the battlements under orders, waiting while Mirage unleashed her devastation. She was holding strong so far, hurling sphere after sphere of condensed fog, but Fay could feel the strain through their bond.

Each blast drained a massive share of aether, and though Mirage absorbed much of it directly, Fay received half as well. That was the problem. He couldn't simply pass it back to her in equal measure. Transferring it took time, time they simply didn't have.

But not all was lost. Fay had begun diverting that surplus to his other creatures. Grin's reserves were already brimming, the beast eager for war. Jolt, too, was steadily charging, arcs of energy sparking faintly across his form.

"I only have enough for one more strike," Mirage admitted. "But not everything is lost. If you can hold a section of the wall when they start pouring through, I'll take the other near the gate."

Even as she spoke, she conjured another sphere of fog, this one larger than any she had made before. She rose higher into the sky, wings catching the sunlight, her eyes fixed on a single target: King Veynar Molokh himself.

A grin tugged at her lips. She wondered what chaos would follow if the pretender king fell at the very start of the war.

It would not be easy, though. By now the alliance had realized that Mirage was using mind magic to slaughter their troops within the fog. To counter it, they only needed to disrupt that kind of sorcery.

There were creatures suited for this task. Every element had its natural weakness, and for mind magic the bane was Chaos. Such creatures warped thought and essence alike, unraveling illusions and striking directly at the mind causing a sort of corruption.

If Mirage absorbed the aether of a Chaos-aligned beast, the backlash would not empower her it would harm her.

But Mirage did not fear their counters. There was no Chaos Dragon among them, no creature strong enough to truly oppose her. The lesser Chaos beasts were little more than an annoyance. Given a few days, she could purge their corruption and render them useless.

With a final beat of her wings, she unleashed the sphere of concentrated mental fog. It streaked across the battlefield and burst within the Molowisk loyalist ranks.

The screams began almost at once. Thousands cried out as the wave swept over them. Mirage's gaze sharpened, hunting for a single voice amid the chaos, the death cry of King Veynar Molokh. But it did not come.

Not all was lost, however. With her keen dragon eyes she saw him slump in his saddle, his body going limp. He was not dead… but he had fallen into the first stage of her mind magic: sleep. If she had held longer, the deeper stages would have followed, but his soldiers reacted quickly.

A rider swept in, dragging the king to safety before the fog could claim more. Mirage's lips curled faintly as her eyes locked on the man. His bearing marked him as no ordinary soldier. He was strong, one of those she had already marked as a potential danger in the battles to come.

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