Chapter 312: 312

The lead mage, a stern figure draped in robes of deep indigo, looked up as the report came in. His eyes narrowed at the description of the strange mist and the disappearance of the female goblin.

“Bring me those guards,” he ordered. “All of them. Now.”

As the guards were rounded up and brought to the tower, those infected with the mist maintained their calm façades, standing perfectly still, their eyes no longer glowing outwardly. The magic of the mist had woven deep into their minds, allowing them to appear normal to anyone who did not probe too closely.

The mage, suspicious but thorough, began inspecting the guards. His eyes flickered with blue light as he used his magic to scan them for traces of corruption. He sensed something was off but couldn’t pinpoint the exact nature of the disturbance. The enchantments on the guards’ armor were designed to resist external magical influences, but the mist had bypassed those protections by targeting their minds.

Frustrated but without clear evidence, the mage dismissed the guards. As they left the tower, the infected ones quietly shared a glance, a silent communication that the spider demon observed from afar. The time was not yet right to strike, but soon—very soon—they would act.

The goblin mage would have taken the time to investigate the affected guards further, but all his attention was needed on the demons in the distance. So, while he let the guards go, he had someone secretly keeping an eye on their movements.

Meanwhile, the affected guards, who had been released from their duties, were grouped in a building where they were kept under watch. Unknown to the guards and those observing them, as the pink mist settled into their lungs, it did more than just exert control over their minds. It carried within it the essence of the fifth-stage spider demon—twisted ingenuity designed to spawn new life in a world hostile to her kind. The mist was a talent unique to higher-tier spider demons, not just for mental manipulation, but one that had evolved over time to bypass the suppression that the invaders faced in different worlds.

At night, when sleeping, the infected guards lay paralyzed, unable to rest, their eyes faintly glowing. However, deep inside their bodies, the mist was working, spreading its seed. It embedded the essence of the spider demons into the very fabric of the guards’ flesh.

The mist, acting as both a subtle poison and a seed of demonic birth, began to affect the guards physically. As days passed, the guards began to feel odd sensations in their bodies—a growing heat in their bellies, slight discomfort under their skin, which they could not explain. Some of the guards chalked it up to fatigue from being unable to sleep, while others dismissed it as a passing illness.

What they didn’t know was that small egg sacs were forming within them. These sacs held the embryonic forms of hybrid creatures. The gestation period was swift, sped up by demonic biology.

One guard, a burly figure who had inhaled the mist earlier, began to sweat profusely, a strange pulsing beneath his skin. He doubled over in pain but managed to regain his posture, gritting his teeth. The magic of the mist kept him in a docile state, but internally, his body was undergoing a violent transformation.

Soon, he and the other infected guards could no longer bear it. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the narrow hallway as, one by one, the infected guards stumbled into the toilets, their expressions twisted with pain and confusion. Each guard who made it inside quickly locked the door behind them, their labored breathing the only sign of life in the eerily quiet building.

Inside the toilets, the guards sat, gripping the edges of the stone seats, their bodies shaking uncontrollably. The discomfort beneath their skin had grown into excruciating agony. A grotesque sensation of something alive moving within them began to spread through their limbs and torsos. Their minds, fogged by the mist’s magic, couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening, but the instinctual terror of their bodies being overtaken was unmistakable.

Inside their bodies, the egg sacs that had formed over the last few days were now fully grown. The embryonic hybrids, a mix of ogre flesh and demonic essence, were ready to emerge. With a sickening tearing sound, the eggs ruptured, and the guards’ bodies convulsed. Their minds screamed, but the control of the mist was so absolute that they could do little more than tremble as the birth took place.

The guards placed under watch were being monitored from a nearby observation room by a group of officials and the mage’s apprentice. They had noticed the change in the guards’ behavior—sweat-drenched, pale-faced, and rushing to the toilets—but attributed it to some illness or physical ailment.

One of the guards, visibly shaken, stepped out of the bathroom, his face a mask of terror. He took a few staggering steps before collapsing, his body crumbling to the ground with an unnatural dryness. His once muscular form had shriveled, his skin stretched tight across his bones, as if every drop of moisture had been sucked from his body. His eyes, wide with panic, were sunken deep into his skull, staring blankly at the floor.

The apprentice gasped. “What in the emperor’s name…?”

One by one, the other guards began to follow the same pattern—emerging from the bathrooms only to collapse in horrifying states of mummified decay. Each of their bodies dried out, drained of life and blood, leaving behind withered husks that had once been living, breathing men. The guards who survived long enough to make it out of the bathrooms fell to the ground in twisted, unnatural positions, their faces frozen in expressions of sheer terror.

For the guards, the horror was internal and deeply visceral. As they sat in the toilets, they could feel the insides of their bodies being torn apart as the spider demon hybrids burst forth from the egg sacs. Yet, to their utter confusion, nothing visible was left behind—just the sickening sensation of something huge, something unnatural leaving their bodies, hollowing them out. They stared in disbelief at the blood splattered beneath them, feeling their life slowly drain away, unsure of what had just happened.

Back in the abyss, the fifth-stage demon was in the same chamber as the demon queen, Vorenza. He felt the moment the hybrids were born, and he bowed, saying, “It’s already done, my queen.”

Vorenza, the spider demon, was no longer in her demon form. Instead, she took the form of a human female, though unnaturally tall, as she sat cross-legged on her throne.

“Good. Have them stay low and grow to their limit. I will inform you when it’s time for them to be of use,” Vorenza said to the fifth-stage demon, who bowed before leaving the chamber.

Now left alone, Vorenza had a bright smile on her face. The successful birth of the hybrids meant that taking over the town would be much easier. The hybrids were expendable resources for spider demons of a certain level, as they were not truly demons and lacked the innate uniqueness that comes with being a full demon or half demon.

Their growth, unlike that of normal demons or half-demons, was limited by the race they were spawned from. What Vorenza appreciated the most was that the hybrids weren’t suppressed by this world. Because of their heritage, they were recognized as part of it.

The city’s sewer system extended all the way to the underground networks where the Ratmen race lived. Due to their enslaved status, they were responsible for disposing of the waste or using it for whatever purpose they could find.

In the early stages of their enslavement, the Ratmen had managed to find food sources through this waste. Occasionally, they also found seeds that hadn’t been broken down, which they planted to grow their own food. Nonetheless, the sight of waste falling into their underground network was not unusual for the Ratmen.

Today wasn’t any different as a group of Ratmen were disposing of the waste, while others sifted through it in search of something valuable.

As the Ratmen worked through the familiar stench of the city’s waste, their ears perked at the strange sound of something heavy falling into the muck. One of the older Ratmen, his fur matted and grayed with age, twitched his nose, sniffing the air. “Something’s off,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy, worn by years of harsh conditions.

The younger Ratmen, busily sifting through the refuse for anything they could use, paused and glanced at the elder with puzzled expressions. They had grown accustomed to all sorts of strange things falling into the sewers, from discarded trinkets to rotting food, but this was different. The repeated thud of heavy objects had an unsettling weight to it.

“Could be some broken armor,” one of the Ratmen said dismissively, turning back to his task. “Or maybe some old bones—”

Another thud interrupted him, louder this time. Then several more, quick and rhythmic, like something with intent. The Ratmen looked around, their whiskers twitching in unison.

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