The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 80: Nothing Less Than Death

Chapter 80: Nothing Less Than Death

The moment the enemy ranks began to shift again, Sun Longzi’s eyes narrowed. The front lines of Chixia and Yelan had started their descent. Hundreds of thousands of men, their armor gleaming and war banners flying. The ground shook with each synchronized footfall, an avalanche of blades coming to crush them.

He raised his hand, voice rising like thunder above the wind.

"Red Demons!" he roared. "Today is not the day we die in retreat. Today is the day we carve our names into the bones of this field. The enemy may have numbers. But we have blood, we have steel—and we have each other."

He turned his warhorse toward the rows of soldiers behind him, his blade raised high.

"They believe we are broken. They believe we are weak. But we are the fire that refuses to burn out!" he bellowed. "For Daiyu. For our families. For the legacy we leave in the dirt and the blood. We do not wait for death—we ride out to meet it!"

Swords lifted. Roars answered.

"This ground is Daiyu’s. And if they want it, they’ll have to tear it from our burning hands! Form lines! Brace spears! Prepare to charge!"

His raised hand dropped, signaling the charge, right before an amused female voice echoed around him.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," purred Zhao Xinying, her voice like smoke and honey.

Lust didn’t stand so much as unfold from where she was draped against Shi Yaozu’s side, all loose limbs and feline boredom. Her cheek still rested against his shoulder, as if war was just a minor inconvenience to her afternoon nap. "It’s not like the mist has eyes," she added with a sigh. "You are just as likely to be killed as they are."

Sun Longzi turned sharply. He didn’t like being interrupted. But the look in her eyes made even him hesitate.

Zhu Deming’s horse shifted beside him, agitated. He looked between the charging armies and the girl in green who wasn’t a girl anymore.

"No choice," Deming muttered before jerking the reins toward the advancing army. "Orders from the Demon Lord are absolute."

His warhorse screamed as he kicked it into motion, surging down the incline toward the center of the chaos.

Lust blinked.

Then her body straightened slowly, spine uncoiling as her golden eyes locked onto Deming’s retreating form. "Where is he going?" she asked, voice lower, more dangerous.

Yaozu didn’t flinch. "To fight a war he knows he won’t win."

She turned on him with an incredulous snarl. "Is he stupid? Was it the bodies? Did they not see the bodies? Do I need to bring them back to life just to kill them again so they understand?! Deming doesn’t need to fight this battle. This isn’t even a battle!"

Yaozu met her eyes evenly. "We’ve already lived longer than we expected," he shrugged like it was no big deal. But it was... it was a very big deal.

Lust took a step forward. The mist answered, thickening at her feet even as the very air around her shimmered with the heat radiating from her body. "Be a dear, call Deming back, and the two of you stay put. If you want the battle to be done, I’ll go out and finish it for you."

"That’s not how war works," smiled Yaozu. "The moment you step onto the battlefield, you have to be prepared to die. Today is just our day."

She bared her teeth. "I feel like I am having two different conversations," she grunted, her eyes flashing gold. "Listen to me. You don’t have to fight. I will. I will kill them all, and then we can all go back to the capital and annoy my husband some more. What part of me killing all those men with the mist was unclear to you?!?"

"There are too many of them, even for you. I know you’re powerful, but even you have to get tired. I can barely call my powers without being exhausted after a few minutes, and you say I’m strong," replied Yaozu, reaching out to touch her cheek, but he pulled back before he dared to touch her flesh.

"You are a baby," she hissed, her breath fogging the air despite the heat. Her pupils dilated until the blue in her eyes was now completely devoured by gold. "You’ve had a demon seed inside you for what, a week and a half? I was born a demon. I have three of them! If the poison runs out, not that it ever has, then I have fire. If the fire burns out, I have metal. For fucks sake, I can kill those men with their own swords. But the point is, this is who I am. I don’t get tired. I don’t run out of power. I can take on this whole fucking planet and still go out clubbing at the end of the night."

Yaozu blinked once. "Noted. But you don’t have to fight. That’s what we are here for."

"Seriously! Like a brick wall!" snarled the demon, backing away from the man in front of her.

"Then what do you suggest?" asked Yaozu, cocking his head to the side.

"Nothing," Lust snapped, turning on her heel. Her green dress darkened as if ink had been poured down its hem. The mist curled up her spine and wove through her hair like fingers. If she had looked otherworldly before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now.

"But if you don’t want someone to die just for brushing your sleeve, stay put while I go get my other man," she snarled before a thick black wall of mist surrounded Yaozu. Unlike when the mist touched the others, he didn’t feel any pain. Instead, it caressed his skin like he imagined a lover would.

In fact, he was so captivated by the mist that he missed the woman herself stalking toward the raging battle.

Shadow growled low beside her, then took off—black as night and twice as fast—tearing across the battlefield with her in his wake.

She didn’t run.

She strode forward, her eyes on her target.

Each step was like a storm cloud on silk.

Her presence turned heads even before the mist did. The nearest soldiers faltered, some pulling up their shields, while others fell to their knees. They didn’t know why they were afraid; they just knew they were.

The mist spread wide and thin, sliding underfoot like an oil slick. But instead of exploding forward, it moved with precision, delivering targeted strikes. Legs buckled, helmets caved in, and screams echoed around her.

Lust didn’t flinch.

Ahead of her, Deming’s sword arced through the air. He cut down one enemy, then another, a streak of silver fury against a red tide.

She watched him for a heartbeat.

And something sharp twisted in her chest.

Not possession.

Not hunger.

Something else.

Mine, she thought, even as the others inside of her echoed her thoughts.

"Deming!" she called, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. "Do not make me come out there and get you!"

But he didn’t turn.

She could hear Sun Longzi shouting again behind her, rallying the Red Demons, pushing them forward.

Lust threw out a hand. And instead of the mist answering, her fire did.

Like a flamethrower, everywhere she pointed, a blaze of bright blue fire lit up the space. Dozens of soldiers fell as one, horses screamed, and steel groaned. Then silence again, thick and unnatural.

She pushed forward, her shadow stretching long before her. Each footstep coated the field in rot and burnt bodies.

Still, Deming rode ahead, slicing through soldiers like they were made of air. Lust took a second to look over her shoulder to make sure that Yaozu was still where she left him. But instead of doing what she had said, he was walking deeper into the battlefield as men from both sides dropped around him.

"Idiots," she muttered, frustrated. "All of you."

Her eyes narrowed. Her dress finished darkening, shifting to a shadowy green-black that glinted like wet leaves in the dark. Shadow appeared again at her side, jaws red, tail flicking.

"Let’s make a hole," she whispered.

And the hellhound ran.

He didn’t bark. Didn’t growl.

He just tore through the bodies, through the armor, through the warhorses like they were nothing more than toys played by a bored little boy.

Lust followed, her arms finally rising.

The mist surged like a tide.

And this time, it didn’t stop.

Far behind them, on the hill, a single Red Demon officer lowered his spyglass and muttered, "What the hell is she?"

The man beside him snorted as he watched anyone who so much as got near her die in agony. "Isn’t it obvious?" he sneered. "She is nothing less than Death."

"At least she is on our side," sighed the officer, lowering his spyglass.

"Are you sure about that?"