[Kitsuna – A Few Weeks Earlier]
Blending into the bustling streets was easy.
Slipping out of the city? That was the problem.
"Getting out will be the hardest part—or perhaps it won't be." I could just use an illusion, couldn't I?"
I sighed. I considered hitting myself over the head. Why was I like this?
Disguised as a tall male adventurer—broad shoulders, stubbly jaw, and a cheap-looking sword strapped to my back—I made my way toward the city gates with all the swagger of someone who definitely wasn't on a blacklist.
I was halfway through when a guard called out.
"Yo, man, heading out for monster hunting?"
'I spoke too soon.' I gave him a wordless nod, hoping he'd take the hint.
"A quiet one," his buddy muttered.
"Well, let's not keep you. Good luck with the hunt!"
He stepped aside, and I walked out smoothly.
Once past the gates, I flash-stepped into the distance.
"…Did you see him move?" One guard asked, voice now slightly shaky.
"Nope."
Smirking, I reached the edge of the forest and shifted into my fox form. I didn't want to draw too much attention, so I cloaked myself in an illusion—a black werewolf dashing through the undergrowth.
[Two Days Later]
"This should be the place," I said, stopping at the foot of the dead forest.
I was about to step forward when a soldier in black ops armor suddenly blocked my path.
"Young lady, this zone is off-limits—"
"Code 9246," I interrupted, walking past him.
"...What?"
"Don't break protocol," I said, not even turning around.
Code 9246: Don't ask. Return to duty.
Best idea ever: stealing Dean's black ops codebook.
Twin chakrams spun into my hands as I flash-stepped into the forest. Monsters came instantly.
A pack of three-eyed shadow wolves pounced from the trees.
"GAAUUR—"
They didn't finish. They were minced before they hit the ground.
Too slow.
"Let's get some levels going."
My chakrams cut wide arcs through their necks and limbs—clean, efficient, lethal.
Two more jumped from opposite sides. I jumped straight up, flipped midair, and rained golden lightning bolts on their skulls.
CRACK—BOOM!
Smoke rose from their corpses.
"Keep it coming."
A larger beast charged next. It looked like a mutated lion—three heads, bone plating, and fire breath.
"KING BRUTUS – LVL 312"
"Perfect."
I dashed under his jaws, slashed through his tendons, and leapt up to plant both chakrams into his back. It roared in pain—
Too bad. I clenched my fingers together.
Golden Fox Fire detonated inside its spine.
"Next."
[One Day Later]
"Fucking curses," I grumbled, glaring at my stats.
Name: Kitsuna Draig (Alias: Shiro Adachi)
Age: 15 (Immortal)
Race: Primordial 3-Tail Demon Fox
Bloodline: Primordial 9-Tail Fox
Gender: Female
Level: 83
Class: Weapon Sage (Wrath)
HP: 4,312 / 4,738
MP: 10,640 / 72,966
STR: 2,989
VIT: 2,884
DEF: 2,504
INT: 36,483
END: 4,282
AGT: 4,929
Skills:
Dimension Storage
Devil Fire / Devil Lightning
Fox Ice
Golden Fox Lightning / Golden Fox Fire
Saint Healing
Analysis
Expert Flash Step
Teleport
Sword Domain
Mana Sense
Pseudo-God Blacksmith
Passive Abilities:
Heightened Senses
Soul Regeneration
Eyes of Intimidation
Human Form
Night Vision
Mana Tails
Tail Abilities:
Clone
Spiritual Magic
Illusion Magic
LOCKED
"Those greedy clone bastards sucked up 60k mana… And I only gained thirty levels?" I muttered.
Most of the monsters I'd slaughtered were over level 300. I deserved more than this.
Golden fire and lightning crackled to life in my palms. The spheres pulsed—not with wrath, but healing.
"Hell? Do these things heal?"
"This is the opposite of my devil heritage—hah!"
I laughed, not noticing the footsteps behind me.
"Hmm. I haven't seen those in a long time," said an old voice.
I jumped back instantly, weapons drawn—eyes going wide as I stared.
"No way… fan lady?!"
Standing calmly with a smug smirk and two cattails was a woman I never thought I'd see again.
"The name is Fran, you impudent fox."
"… What's an old hag like you doing here?"
"I was sleeping. But someone's rampage through the ecosystem woke me up."
"I wasn't destroying it. I was culling it," I grumbled and sat back down.
She sat next to me like it was a picnic.
"So. What are you doing here, brat?"
"I should ask you the same, Grandma-walking-contradiction."
"I like quiet places. This forest used to be peaceful."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're not a real beastkin, are you?"
"Correct. I was a cat. Once."
"...So you're as old as you look."
"Older." She chuckled. "You remind me of my wife."
"You're being way too open right now."
"True," she said, stretching her arms. "Want some advice? Or better—training?"
"…Training?"
"That wrath of yours. It's too wild."
"Great. A stalker grandma who reads emotional states."
"She used the same golden fire and lightning you did."
"I don't use those. I use devil fire and lightning."
Fran's gaze sharpened.
"You do understand what devil magic does to souls, right?"
"Yes," I replied, raising a golden flame. "That's why I don't use it casually."
Her eyes softened as she studied the flame.
"You wonder about the golden elements' properties?"
"They heal. But they're fox-based. There's more, isn't there?"
"There is. Foxes embody deception and restoration. Trickery and rebirth. That fire? It's not just healing—it's manipulative essence. You can heal someone… or shatter their will."
"Yikes."
"You'll need to learn to wield it properly. Come with me."
Before I could protest, she stepped forward—and the entire scene shifted.
We were now inside a massive crystal cave, the air rich with mana. A translucent green pool bubbled quietly in the center.
"...Alright. I'll admit it. That was impressive."
"She's not the only one who can manipulate mana," Fran said smugly.
"She?" I blinked. "You mean your wife?"
"She could do that too—but with more effort. And she was younger. Less smug."
"Let's leave her out of this," I muttered.
"Fair enough."
"So… what is this place?"
"My dungeon," she said. "Built over a thousand years ago. You'll train here."
"...Not into that kind of thing."
"I'm married!"
"And you just told me your wife is dead."
Fran's expression sharpened, eyes glowing.
"Just as you dislike it when people mention your wife, I dislike it when people mock mine."
"...Fair."
Looking around again, my eyes landed on the green pool.
"So… that's it?"
"Your best friend. Dive in after each session. You can breathe in it. It heals everything."
"Sounds like I'm going to need it."
"You will," she said, eyes twinkling. "Time to temper your wrath, little fox."
[Later That Night—Campfire]
I sat slumped against a rock, the last of the day's mana reserves flickering inside me like a dying flame. A battered potion flask dangled from my fingers.
Fran, seated cross-legged across from me, sipped her tea with maddening calm.
"You look like hell," she said dryly, not even glancing my way.
I groaned, tossing the empty flask aside. "Feel worse."
"You should. You've burned through three days of stamina in one." She exhaled steam through her nose. "You fight like someone trying to outrun a nightmare."
I eyed the fire. The embers danced in shades of gold and crimson—eerily similar to my Fox Golden Lightning. My fingers twitched at the thought.
"…This lightning," I muttered, "it's not just healing. It's… manipulative. Trickster energy."
Fran raised an eyebrow, finally looking at me. "Good. You're starting to understand. Fox magic isn't about brute force. It's an influence. Disruption. Masking truth with fire."
I tilted my head. "So what about Wrath, then?"
Her expression turned hard. "That's what we train tonight."
I blinked. "Wait, tonight? As in, right now?"
Fran stood smoothly, her tail fanning out like blades behind her. "If you're strong enough to level half the forest, you're strong enough to handle this."
Groaning, I pushed myself up, joints cracking. "You're a sadist."
She smirked. "Only to my favorites."
She gestured toward the far end of the cavern—a massive stone slab etched with glowing runes. As we approached, the ground trembled faintly beneath our feet.
"That's Wrath's essence," Fran explained. "This entire room feeds off emotional output—rage, grief, vengeance. Every time you lose control, it gets stronger."
I narrowed my eyes at the slab. "So what, I scream into it and hope for enlightenment?"
Fran shook her head. "No. You fight."
With a sharp snap of her fingers, the stone shimmered. A mirror of black glass rose from the slab, swirling with blood-red mist. My reflection shimmered inside it—but it wasn't me.
She had my face.
But her eyes were wild.
Her tails lashed like whips. Blood stained her hands, and golden fire danced around her like a halo of fury.
"That," Fran said softly, "is your Wrath. Born out of your unchecked emotions. Fight her. Survive. And do not become her."
I stared at the reflection—at her. I didn't have time to ask more questions.
The mirror shattered.
And she lunged at me.
"Shit—!"
I barely managed to summon my chakrams in time. Her slash clipped my shoulder, sending a jolt of pain straight through my nerves.
"Fast—!"
She grinned at me—my grin—and slammed her foot into my chest. I went flying, skidding across the cavern floor.
"Get up!" Fran shouted, her voice echoing across the stone walls. "If you let Wrath control you, you lose!"
I coughed, blood in my throat. The clone—my rage—was already charging again, golden lightning flaring off her blades.
I flash-stepped sideways, barely dodging, and brought one chakram around to counter. Sparks exploded between us.
She doesn't stop.
She doesn't think.
She just burns.
My heart pounded. The fire inside me began to swell—urging me to lash out, to tear her apart without thought.
No. Not this time. I'm not her.
I exhaled through my teeth and dropped my illusion armor, focusing everything into raw mana flow. I let the rage come—but I didn't let it take me.
Fran's voice pierced the haze: "Wrath is not rage. Its purpose is sharpened by fury!"
I snarled and caught the next strike between both chakrams. Then, twisting my hips, I slammed my knee into her ribs and flipped her over my back.
She hit the stone hard—and didn't get back up.
Smoke curled off her limbs as her body slowly disintegrated into embers.
Fran stepped forward, her voice quiet this time. "You didn't become her."
I dropped to my knees, panting. My blades flickered, unstable.
"Barely."
She nodded. "That's step one."
"...Step two?" I muttered.
Fran cracked her knuckles. "Tomorrow."