Aris stared at the fox, his eyes wide and round. It was the first time he had encountered one in the western lands. Out here, all he had ever faced were small, harmless fennecs — creatures he could handle without much trouble. But this… this was an adult fox.
It was heavier, exuding an aura of something older, more ancient. Its eyes were calmer, patient, almost thoughtful — as if it were carefully deciding how best to bring down its prey.
Aris was stunned.
He had noticed the western lands were throwing more and more fennecs at him lately. Managing them all had been difficult enough. But he had never expected to face a fox. Did it even make sense? If fennecs were becoming more numerous… did that mean they would also grow larger?
He had no answer. It felt as if, even after five days, he still hadn't reached the true limits of this place. He had thought it would be a border — but the "border" had turned out to be vast. So vast he wondered if he would ever see its end.
Yet he was still standing. Five days of hunger and agony, surviving only on fennec organs no bigger than marbles, drinking the thin trickles of water hidden in hollows in the rock. Surviving hunger and thirst was one thing. Surviving the constant assaults of creatures that wanted his corpse — and the thirty-two fennecs he had slain himself — was another.
And now… one had come that could count for three.
Aris met the fox's gaze, running through every possible way to deal with it. The beast did the same, its front right paw raised slightly, ready to spring.
The two remained still, both aware of the danger in front of them.
For a long minute, it was nothing but a silent battle of wills, the air between them frozen, time stretching thin.
Then — for the first time in a long while — Aris struck first.
The crude knife tore through the air toward the beast.
The fox didn't move for a fraction of a second… then slipped past the weapon with effortless grace. Aris had expected that.
He dashed to the creature's left flank. The fox saw him and reacted instantly, leaping back to put distance between them.
"Tch."
The second knife left Aris's hand before the beast even touched the ground. But the fox's body twisted unnaturally midair, avoiding the strike without once brushing the dirt.
"Well, then."
Aris charged, closing the gap with his own body. The fox rushed to meet him.
Its fangs came into view — nothing like the fennecs' thorn-like teeth. These were small knives folding inward, thousands of them crammed into its jaws, each as deadly as the next. It was horrifying.
Aris grimaced. Now was not the time to study its dental structure.
The beast was already upon him.
He narrowly avoided a lightning-fast bite by twisting his body just right, then caught its neck in his hands.
He squeezed as hard as he could — and met solid resistance. The fox's muscles bunched under his fingers, fighting back, refusing to yield.
A flicker of danger made him release it just in time. The animal's head snapped toward his wrist, missing tearing it apart by mere centimeters.
Aris slid across the hard stone of the western lands and pushed himself back to his feet.
"Damn it… why did the rain stop?"
Not that it would change much. But perhaps, if it had kept pouring, this fox wouldn't have come looking for him at all.
He leveled a cold glare at the creature.
"I don't take kindly to uninvited guests."
The fox didn't care. Its body tensed, ready for another strike.
Aris had already figured out a few things. This one was much smarter. It waited for the perfect moment to attack, never leapt blindly, could dodge projectiles midair, and carried an aura he hated.
It was like fighting a human who knew the basics of combat. Not perfect — but unlike the fennecs, which could be baited into traps, this one was alert and patient. That left him with far less room for error.
And he was in no shape for a drawn-out fight. He had eaten almost nothing, drunk only what little water he could find. Some days, he wondered if he even had a chance of surviving in these harsh, wet lands.
Now… instead of clumsy fennecs, he had to deal with a clever fox.
Aris let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. Clearly, this was not his day.
The fox noticed the sudden lapse in the fallen king's focus and lunged forward to attack. Aris's eyes snapped open, and he shifted into position.
The beast closed in dangerously, yet Aris didn't move. His breathing was calm, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace — as though he were preparing something.And that...the fox could feel it.
Just before it got too close, the beast stopped and narrowed its eyes, suspecting a trap. But it was already too late.
In the blink of an eye, Aris closed the gap and slammed his hand onto the fox's back.
The beast had no time to dodge. Muscles bunched as it braced for impact — but instead, a sharp pain tore into its spine. Its eyes widened.
A knife had buried itself deep between its shoulders.
Aris had deliberately dove to retrieve the blade he'd thrown earlier, hiding it behind his back so the fox wouldn't notice.
Now, that crude knife was lodged firmly in the creature's flesh, drawing a strangled cry from its throat.
Shock flashed in the fox's eyes, but it quickly leapt away from the fallen king, regaining its senses. The knife remained in its back.
But the moment its paws touched the ground, another blade shot toward its face. It twisted away at the last possible instant, but not fast enough to avoid a deep slash across its muzzle.
This time, Aris had thrown the second knife he'd picked up from where it had struck the massive rock — the same rock where he had carved a mark for every kill.
A slow smile spread across his face....He was about to add another.
The fox retreated warily as Aris rose with renewed confidence. The advantage was now his.
Dozens of battles with fennecs had given him invaluable experience. He no longer struggled to deal with these four-legged predators. This one was larger, yes — but its attack pattern was the same as the rest, and he knew it well.
Black blood began to seep from the wound on the beast's back. Aris's smile deepened. The strange effects of fennec meat hadn't left him since the moment he'd first tasted it.
His mind screamed for more — more fighting, more tearing, more killing. More blood.
Much more blood.
A mad grin stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming with insanity. Step by slow step, he advanced on the wounded fox.
It had come to hunt the fallen king. Now, it was the one staring death in the face.
The fox, however, attacked without warning, as if unwilling to surrender so easily.
Aris sidestepped the beast's brutal leap and dashed to retrieve his second knife.
The creature was on him in an instant. By the time he bent down, its fangs were already aimed at his leg.
But Aris had anticipated that, too. He lashed out with a powerful sideways kick, slamming his boot into the fox's belly and sending it flying.
He picked up his knife and turned with unsettling calm. The cold composure of the fallen king was enough to send chills down one's spine.
The fox crashed hard onto the ground. The blade lodged in its wound tore free on impact, and a gush of hot, black blood spilled from its body.
The beast struggled to rise, its movements shaky — yet its eyes burned with a desperate will to live.
And it was good.
Because Aris wasn't finished with it yet....