The mist wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket, shifting and swirling, obscuring everything in sight. The growls and snarls of unseen monsters reverberated through the fog, a cacophony that set the Horde’s nerves on edge. Volk stood in the middle of the disarray, his sword in hand, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any hint of truth amidst the deceit. The Horde was struggling, their breaths ragged, their strikes more erratic with each passing moment.

Everywhere he turned, the mist seemed alive, conjuring forms that loomed over them with malicious intent. Yet Volk knew better now. Some of the creatures weren’t real. They were nothing more than illusions meant to drive them to despair. But others—the real ones—were deadly enough to cause chaos among even the strongest of his Horde.

Volk’s mind raced as he observed the attacks. The fake creatures dissolved into nothing when struck, leaving only the frustration of wasted energy. The real ones left marks, drawing blood and sapping their strength. He gritted his teeth, frustration mounting as he tried to discern the pattern, to make sense of the chaos.

But there was no clear solution. The mist monsters moved too quickly, too erratically. Real or fake, they blended into the fog, their forms flickering in and out of existence like phantoms. Volk clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his weapon.

Then it hit him. He wasn’t just fighting illusions; they were fighting their own fear. The mist preyed on their uncertainty, their hesitation. It was a test of trust, of instinct. But how could they trust their instincts when the very ground beneath them seemed to lie?

Volk closed his eyes for a moment, shutting out the madness, shutting out the swirling mist. In that brief moment of darkness, he listened—truly listened. The growls were there, but they weren’t everywhere. The whispers were faint, and the air itself felt lighter without the visual distractions.

“Close your eyes!” Volk roared, his voice booming through the fog.

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The Horde turned to him, confusion and fear etched into their faces. “What?” a goblin stammered, barely able to hold his trembling dagger.

“Close your eyes!” Volk repeated, louder this time. “All of you! Trust me!”

“Close our eyes? But the monsters—”

“Do it now!” Volk’s command was like a whip crack, and slowly, reluctantly, the Horde began to comply.

One by one, they hesitated, unsure whether to trust his strange order. An ogre was the first to obey, dropping his massive club and squeezing his eyes shut. His breath came in heavy, uneven gasps, his muscles tensing as if bracing for an unseen attack.

A goblin followed, clutching his weapon tightly as he shut his eyes, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Another ogre, then another goblin, then more. Each of them closed their eyes, their hands gripping their weapons, their postures defensive.

The mist seemed to react, swirling faster, the fake monsters appearing more frequently, their forms larger and more grotesque. One lunged at a goblin, its massive jaws snapping mere inches from his face. He flinched but kept his eyes closed, his grip tightening on his weapon.

“Good!” Volk barked, his own eyes still open as he watched over them. “Don’t open them, no matter what you hear, no matter what you feel! Just trust me!”

The Horde obeyed, their breathing heavy but steady. The mist monsters became more aggressive, their movements erratic and unpredictable. One swung its massive claw at an ogre, who stood still, unflinching. The claw passed through him harmlessly, dissolving into the mist.

Volk grinned. It was working.

But then, one of the real monsters appeared. Its glowing red eyes pierced through the fog as it crept closer to an unsuspecting goblin. Volk moved like lightning, his blade slicing through the creature before it could strike. It let out a pained roar, its form collapsing into the mist, leaving no trace behind.

“Keep your eyes closed!” Volk shouted again, his voice filled with authority. “You’re safe as long as you listen to me!”

The Horde tightened their formation, their eyes firmly shut. The mist seemed to grow angrier, the whispers rising into a deafening cacophony. The fake monsters lunged and roared, their forms growing more distorted and monstrous. But none of the Horde flinched.

Volk’s eyes darted around, watching for any signs of the real monsters. He struck swiftly and decisively, cutting them down before they could harm his people. The mist began to falter, its grip loosening as the Horde refused to give in to its illusions.

The air grew quieter, the growls fading into the distance. The mist monsters appeared less frequently, their forms dissolving more quickly. Volk kept his focus, his every movement precise as he dispatched the remaining real creatures.

Finally, the mist began to clear. The thick, oppressive fog lifted, revealing the rocky terrain beneath their feet. The growls and whispers were gone, replaced by an eerie silence.

“Open your eyes,” Volk commanded, his voice calm but firm.

The Horde obeyed, their eyes blinking against the sudden clarity. They looked around, their expressions a mix of relief and awe. The mist was gone, the monsters vanquished.

“You did well,” Volk said, his voice carrying a rare note of pride. “You trusted me. And we won because of it.”

The Horde let out a collective sigh of relief, their tense shoulders relaxing. They had survived the mist, the illusions, the real and fake threats. And they had done it together.

Soon, the air grew lighter, and as the last remnants of the oppressive mist dissipated, the Horde stood in stunned silence. Then, like a dam breaking, laughter erupted. It started as a nervous chuckle from one goblin, then spread like wildfire until it became a roaring celebration. They laughed with relief, with joy, and with the exhilaration of surviving what had felt like certain doom.

“Did you see that? The mist just vanished!” one goblin exclaimed, waving his arms as if to push away invisible fog.

“And those monsters—fake ones, real ones—I couldn’t even tell anymore!” an ogre bellowed, his booming laughter shaking loose pebbles from nearby rocks.

Another goblin, smaller than the rest, jumped up and down, his high-pitched giggle infectious. “I thought we were goners! But Volk knew! Volk knew exactly what to do!”

All eyes turned to Volk, who stood a little apart from the group, his arms crossed and his expression thoughtful. But even Volk, their steadfast leader, couldn’t suppress a small grin as he watched the Horde celebrating. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as the goblins, ogres, and other creatures crowded around him.

“Volk!” one of them called out, a goblin with a lopsided helmet that barely stayed on his head. “How did you know? How did you figure it out?”

“Yeah!” another chimed in, his eyes wide with admiration. “You knew the fake ones from the real ones! And that trick with the eyes—how did you think of that?”

Volk raised a hand, silencing the questions with a single motion. “It wasn’t magic,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “It wasn’t some ancient knowledge passed down through generations. And it wasn’t because I had some hidden insight into these creatures.”

The Horde leaned in, hanging on his every word. Even the ogres, usually too impatient for speeches, looked at him with genuine curiosity.

Volk pointed to his head. “It was logic. Think about it. The mist played with our senses. It showed us things that weren’t real. But the real monsters? They left marks. They hurt us. That’s the difference. Once I realized that, I had to gamble on one simple truth: the mist relies on our fear. If we didn’t see it, if we didn’t react to it, it lost its power.”

The Horde murmured among themselves, nodding at his explanation. It made sense, after all. But one goblin, braver than the rest, raised his hand timidly. “But… but Volk, how did you know it would work? What if the monsters were still real, even if we couldn’t see them?”

Volk let out a laugh, deep and hearty, that startled the Horde. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I didn’t.”

The crowd fell silent, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t know,” Volk admitted, his grin widening. “It was a gamble. A big one. But sometimes, you have to take risks when the odds are stacked against you.” He shrugged, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just gambled with all their lives. “I figured we were already in trouble, so why not try something different?”

The Horde stared at him for a moment longer before bursting into laughter.

“A gamble!” one ogre roared, slapping his massive thigh. “Our leader’s just as crazy as the rest of us!”

“And it worked!” another goblin shouted, throwing his hands into the air.

The laughter grew louder, echoing off the rocky terrain. The tension from before melted away as the Horde celebrated their survival, their trust in Volk, and the sheer absurdity of it all.

Volk stood in the middle of the commotion, watching them with a faint smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle along with them. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he said, shaking his head. “But remember this: sometimes a gamble pays off. And sometimes it doesn’t. Next time, I’d rather we not rely on luck.”

The Horde’s laughter continued, unabated, as they began recounting their individual moments of panic and relief. One goblin mimicked the way another had screamed when a mist monster lunged at him, earning uproarious laughter from the group. An ogre demonstrated how he had blindly swung his club, hitting nothing but air, which only added to the hilarity.

But as the celebration carried on, Volk’s eyes turned to the mist lingering at the edges of their vision. Though it had cleared enough to reveal the path ahead, he could see it shifting and swirling, as if biding its time. The roars and whispers had stopped, but the mist was still there, still alive in some way.

He frowned, his instincts warning him that this reprieve was temporary. Turning back to his Horde, he raised a hand again, silencing their laughter.

“Listen up!” he barked, his tone commanding. The Horde quieted instantly, their eyes snapping to him. “We’re not out of this yet. The mist might be gone for now, but it’ll come back. And when it does, we need a safe place to rest.”

One of the goblins raised a hand. “What do we do, Volk?”

Volk scanned their surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the rocky terrain. “We find a cave,” he said firmly. “Somewhere we can barricade ourselves in if we need to. Somewhere the mist can’t reach us.”

The Horde nodded, their earlier joy replaced by determination. As they began to gather their belongings and prepare to move, Volk took one last look at the mist in the distance. It was still there, swirling ominously.

“We’ll be ready,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. Then, louder, he called out to his Horde, “Move out! Let’s find shelter before night falls!”

And with that, they began their cautious descent, the echoes of their earlier laughter fading as the weight of the mist’s threat settled back upon them.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep