I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 167 Skaritzgrad

Boiling oil was poured onto the metal armor. Although it didn't directly touch the skin, the metal cans instantly became a high-temperature oven close to the body.

The soldiers frantically tore at the straps and buckles on their bodies, but they couldn't move freely in the crowded throng.

Some people covered their faces and rolled on the muddy ground, letting out screams like pigs being slaughtered;

Someone tripped over the person who fell in front of them, and before they could get up, their ribs were broken by their comrades who were fleeing in terror.

The stench of burning flesh, the smell of excrement and urine, mixed with that peculiar aroma of meat, instantly permeated the area at the foot of the city wall, transforming this corner, which had just been filled with the deafening cries of battle, into a living hell filled with wails and madness.

Thick, black liquid splattered everywhere, spreading across the muddy ground and flowing into the feet of the soldiers who were huddled together, while pungent, flammable, hot oil vapors rose from above.

The old soldier with a full beard, Skalitz, wrinkled his nose.

He casually wiped the oily sweat from his face caused by the heat.

Then he grabbed the bow and arrows that were already prepared beside him and casually pulled out a specially made arrow wrapped in oilcloth from the quiver.

A guard nearby cleverly handed him a torch.

The tarpaulin ignites instantly upon contact with fire, and bright red flames leap up in a flash.

"Go to hell and warm up."

The old soldier grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth, and loosened the bowstring.

collapse!

The fiery arrow, trailing a flame, plunged like a falling meteor into the nauseating black swamp below.

The next second, something even more terrifying than the boiling oil from before awoke.

That was the sound of large amounts of grease, asphalt, and rosin exploding when they were ignited at the same moment.

The liquid, a mixture of asphalt, grease, and flammable rosin, revealed its most monstrous aspect as a weapon of war the moment it came into contact with an open flame.

The original black liquid instantly transformed into a raging fire dragon.

Flames licked the wooden frame of the ladder, spreading rapidly along the path they had traveled on the ground, even clinging to the soldiers rolling on the ground, rampaging wildly on the oil stains they were covered in.

In the blink of an eye, the area within a radius of several meters below the cloud ladder was transformed into a towering red lotus inferno.

"Aaaaaaah!!!"

If the screams from being scalded by boiling oil were still within the realm of human beings, then the sounds emanating from the sea of ​​fire now had completely degenerated into the mournful cries of a wild beast on its deathbed.

Those heavily armored infantrymen faced the most desperate situation.

The fine armor they were once so proud of has now become the cruelest instrument of torture.

The flames clung to the sticky asphalt, clinging tightly to their plate armor and chainmail. No matter how they tried to extinguish them, they couldn't put them out; instead, the flames burned even brighter because of their violent struggles.

The high temperature quickly penetrated the metal, scalding the flesh inside with a sizzling sound.

The soldiers ran wildly through the inferno like madmen.

A sergeant major, engulfed in flames, stumbled out from the edge of the inferno. His expensive cloak had turned to ashes, and he looked like a walking torch.

He opened his mouth wide and reached out to his companions behind him, as if to ask for help, but only black smoke and broken syllables came out of his throat.

"Devil! This is hellfire!!"

"Don't come any closer! Don't come near me!!"

Faced with the "fire man" reaching out to them, the soldiers in the front row not only did not step forward to help, but retreated in terror as if avoiding a plague.

In the chaos, spears fell like a forest, shields clashed, and people fell in the pushing and shoving, only to be trampled underfoot by countless panicked iron boots, producing a series of chilling sounds of bones breaking.

The raging wall of fire, along with the brutal trampling amidst the chaos, mercilessly devoured twenty or thirty lives, acting more like an insurmountable chasm that forcefully cut off the torrent of this offensive.

"Over here! They're coming up too!"

A young guard's terrified cry drew Zig's attention away from the churning asphalt fire.

Zig turned his head and looked at another section of the city wall not far away.

Two loud crashes were heard, and two more siege ladders were erected by the enemy soldiers and slammed onto the battlements.

Sieg didn't draw Langrisser, nor did he remove the Shahbaz Bow from his back. Instead, he pulled an alchemical bomb from his pouch.

"Demon Dust".

He walked to the edge of the battlements, leaned halfway out, and glanced down.

The ladder was densely packed with enemy soldiers. The leading enemy soldier grinned, holding a shield in one hand and gripping the crossbar with the other, preparing for a final sprint.

Their eyes met.

The enemy soldier was taken aback, because he saw that the blue-clad nobleman standing on the city wall was not armed, but gave him a polite but distant smile before letting go.

The earthenware pot slipped from his fingers and fell straight down.

It grazed the edge of the lead enemy soldier's shield, and under his questioning gaze, landed on the middle section of the ladder, where the most people were concentrated.

"Snapped!"

A crisp, yet not violent, cracking sound rang out.

The earthenware jar shattered the moment it hit the crossbar of the ladder, and then a thick, almost viscous green smoke suddenly expanded and burst from the fragments.

But unlike ordinary smoke, it didn't rise upwards. This poisonous dust, refined by alchemy, was much heavier than air. After exploding, it surged down the ladder like a cascading green tide, rolling and spreading towards the crowd at the foot of the ladder.

"Cough—what is this?"

A soldier in the middle of the ladder subconsciously waved his hand, trying to dispel the strange smoke that had suddenly appeared.

He thought it was just a trick used by the garrison to obscure their view.

But the next second, his movements froze.

The green mist was not ordinary smoke or dust; it carried a suffocatingly sweet and fishy smell and spread rapidly like a living thing, instantly covering an area several meters in diameter and engulfing the seven or eight soldiers on the ladder and the dozen or so people gathered at the foot of the ladder below, preparing to climb.

"Cough cough—cough—!!"

The sound of violent coughing instantly replaced the shouts of killing.

But the cough sounded extremely strange; it wasn't a dry cough from being choked by smoke, but rather a cough that sounded like the lungs were about to be coughed up.

The sound of vomiting was heart-wrenching.

The soldier who inhaled the first wisp of poison gas suddenly dropped his weapon, clutching his neck tightly with both hands, his nails digging deep into his flesh.

His face instantly turned a deep liver color, his eyes bulged, and his mouth opened to its limit as he desperately tried to inhale air. But the green poisonous fog was like an invisible hand, tightly blocking his trachea and burning his lungs.

"My eyes—my eyes!!"

Even more piercing screams came from the crowd below.

Demon dust not only targets the respiratory tract but also has a strong corrosive effect on mucous membranes.

The unsuspecting soldiers, panting heavily, were instantly plunged into hellish agony.

The formation on the ladder collapsed.

Those elite soldiers who had been gripping the barricades tightly now seemed to have all their strength drained away.

Under the corrosive effects of the poison, they lost control of their bodies and, like overripe fruit, fell limply from mid-air.

boom! boom! boom!

A series of dull thuds echoed as they writhed and rolled on the ground in agony, foaming at the mouth and spewing bloody bile. Their initial strength...

Zhuang's body convulsed violently in the poisonous fog, looking a hundred times more miserable than if he had been slashed by swords.

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