The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 77: More People To Play With

Chapter 77: More People To Play With

The moment my hand lifted, the mist surged.

There was no more teasing. No more creeping tendrils or soft warnings. It erupted from beneath my feet like it had been waiting—hungry, furious, and eager to feed.

The first wave hit the front line of soldiers before they could react. Their shouts turned into shrieks as they began to panic. Skin blistered in seconds, bubbling like meat left too long in a pot. One man reached up to claw at his face and tore the flesh clean off with his own fingernails.

Someone retched. Someone else fell to their knees.

But I didn’t move.

I didn’t need to.

The mist was everywhere now—pouring between legs, coiling up backs, slipping into armor seams. It crawled beneath tunics and down into boots. It forced itself into mouths, into eyes, into lungs.

The scouting party in front of me screamed.

They begged.

They ran.

But no matter what they did, they still ended up dying anyway.

I watched as one man in Chixia colors tried to drag a comrade back by the arm, only for his fingers to snap off one by one—blackened bone exposed as the mist ate through glove, skin, tendon. The man’s jaw unhinged mid-scream, mist foaming out like smoke from a dying forge.

A group broke formation and ran east.

I let them go... I wanted to give them just a brief glimpse of hope before ruthlessly pulling it back. Just when they finally exhaled, I smiled softly and whispered, "Now."

The mist obeyed.

It surged after them, overtaking them within seconds like hungry hounds finally finding a meal. Their silhouettes disappeared in the thick black haze, replaced by choking noises and the sharp, wet slap of flesh hitting the ground.

I could feel every heartbeat inside the storm. Every fear. Every pain. The mist didn’t just kill—it consumed. It learned.

It seemed to like learning.

Beside me, Shadow moved. Not fast. Not frantic. Just... efficient. He crossed into the death zone like he was walking through a garden. A soldier tried to swing at him—he didn’t get a second chance. Shadow lunged, clamping jaws around the man’s waist, lifting him clear off the ground, and then *crunch*.

Blood sprayed, and the man folded in half.

Shadow dropped what was left, like it didn’t taste good enough to finish, before turning his attention to the next threat.

Another man fell to his knees, dropping his sword. "Please!" he sobbed, hands raised. "Please, I have children, I—"

The mist didn’t care whether he was telling the truth or not. It simply slid into his mouth, cutting off his words before he could so much as finish his sentence.

His chest swelled like a wineskin overfilled, then burst. Bones cracked like sticks beneath my boots as I stepped forward.

The lieutenant was still standing—barely. Face pale. Sword raised. Not speaking. Not running. Just trembling. His mouth opened, but no sound came out of it.

I tilted my head, studying the man in front of me. "Still here? Impressive. I thought you would be long gone from here. Should I give you a medal or something?"

He swung his sword toward me, desperate to end me.

"Tsk," I smiled at him with a shake of my head. "Better luck in your next life." The mist opened for me, but not for him. His blade passed harmlessly through the black smoke, my body nowhere near his strike.

His feet, on the other hand, were a different story.

The skin on his calves dissolved, tendons snapping as he dropped to the ground, shrieking. His hands clawed at the soil as if it might save him.

It didn’t.

I crouched beside him, resting my elbow on my knee.

"You could’ve walked away," I murmured, picking up one of the sweat-damp curls that were sticking to his forehead. He looked at me like I was some type of monster, and I guess to him, I was. Then again, I was pretty sure that he was the monster to the people he killed before he met me.

At the end of the day, it all came down to a matter of perspective.

He reached for me. Whether it was to save him or to end it quicker, I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter anyway. The mist pulled him down.

And he didn’t scream anymore.

Shi Yaozu still hadn’t moved.

He stood at the edge of it all, arms at his sides, watching like a statue carved from the same stone as the mountain gods. But his eyes weren’t blank. They were sharp. Alive. Absorbing.

He didn’t fear me.

He didn’t pity them.

It almost seemed like he understood what was happening in front of him.

This wasn’t madness. It wasn’t a tantrum.

This was me protecting what was mine.

I had to wonder if he truly understood the deeper meaning behind the fact that my mist surrounded him, but didn’t touch him. I wondered if he understood that I didn’t really care about the villagers we passed or the refugees.

These men were threats to both him and Deming, and so, they had to be eliminated.

The last soldier tried to flee. He was young, maybe seventeen. His legs were pumping, mouth open in a sob, but the mist was faster. It wrapped his foot, yanked him backward into the haze, and he vanished.

I didn’t even blink.

Shadow returned to my side, coated in blood up to the jaw. He shook once—slow, like a wolf after a river crossing—and sat beside me again. Silent. Loyal.

The screams stopped.

What remained wasn’t a battlefield.

It was a slaughterhouse.

Flesh stuck to the grass in steaming clumps. Bones jutted from melted armor like roots from torn earth. There were no intact bodies. Only fragments.

Weapons littered the ground—useless now. I spotted a sword blade bent in half like paper. A spear shaft snapped and was still smoldering.

The mist coiled low now, thick as breath on a cold window. Waiting for the next opportunity to feed.

I let it wait.

Then I turned and walked back to my horse.

Hoofbeats broke the quiet.

At first, it was faint, like thunder far away.

Then louder.

Pounding. Rhythmic. Measured.

Yaozu looked south. "Red Demons," I thought I heard him say... but all I could hear was the pounding of even more hoofprints.

These were faster, approaching from the east.

"More enemies," I said, slowly blinking as my mind seemed to be trapped in a golden fog. I felt lust moving under my skin, no longer as amused as before. She recognized the danger in front of us, and she was ready for it.

Shi Yaozu’s voice pulled me closer to the surface of my mind, pushing Lust back just a bit. His voice was calm, almost soothing as he spoke. "They heard the screaming."

I hummed, pretending to be normal while the demons inside of me demanded attention. "Oh, goodie," I said, trying to ground myself. "More people to play with."

All I could hope for was that it was the Chixia army that arrived first.