Demonic Kitsune

After spending a day there, Clare moved on toward her next destination: Lumencis, the group mission meeting spot.

A frigid wind, sharp enough to feel like it could cut flesh, blew from somewhere unknown and whipped past Clare, carrying with it a flurry of snowflakes that stung her eyes. She used a bit of her Holy mana to shake off the snow, causing her long-collared cardigan cloak to ripple softly in the cold breeze. Sighing, she resumed moving, each step heavy as she pushed through the thick snow that hindered her progress.

With every step, Clare felt the cold seeping up from beneath her feet as she dejectedly trudged through the endless expanse of snow. She wished she had more time to visit the hideout; it was a real pity. The time allotted for personal missions was four and a half weeks, and now only a day remained. As per her original plan, the mission should have taken less than three months, but she had failed to consider the climate of the "Great Edge" in her plans. The harsh desert environment forced her to spend more time traveling than expected.

"Tch..."

Clare was forced to huddle around a bonfire to stay warm at night in the snow-covered northern forest. She could only travel during the day due to the extreme cold at night, which dipped below minus ten degrees, compared to the relatively mild one degree during the daytime. Even a Half-breed like her had limits against the laws of nature. Without having reached the level of "Enlightenment" or "Body Rejuvenation," she could not become immune to extreme cold and heat. She had been unable to achieve those levels in her four and a half years of Seclusion Training, let alone train the "Reishi" energy of her foxy side. These limitations inevitably slowed her down.

Clare also regretted not being able to visit her safe house, a treasure trove filled with incomprehensible riches, vast knowledge, divine and legendary artifacts, and talismans she had handpicked as the Heavenly Saintess in her previous life. 

‘I’ll have another chance to visit my safehouse,’ Clare comforted herself. 

Hidden deep within an artificially created labyrinth, the safehouse was protected by well-structured traps, monsters, and holy talismans. Only Clare knew the way, and she was confident no one else could access the treasures within. 

The frigid wind howled through the snowy forest, dense with giant trees and lush vegetation. The wind billowed and fluttered the trees, dropping snow onto moss-covered stumps and undergrowth, the sound whistling past her ears.

‘First, I should go to the promised location…’

Her thoughts trailed off as the faint scent of blood caught her nostrils. The ground beneath her rumbled, growing louder with each passing moment.

Blood. It was very close, and it was coming toward her. Clare's tails stiffened in alert as she moved cautiously out of the canopy where she had been resting. The bloody scent grew stronger, and something was approaching fast. Her instincts tingled with warning.

“Kyiiiiiigh!”

A body covered in pure white fur with eight legs, a snowy spider the size of a wagon, skittered out.

It was a snow spider.

Why is it on the road? Clare wondered. Why would a monster attack her here? Most animals and monsters were neutral toward Arrancars; unless provoked, they wouldn't initiate an attack. Both instinctive animals and intelligent monsters could sense murderous intent or bloodlust from anyone who approached them. For such a monster to attack her unprovoked was unnatural. Sighing, Clare massaged her temples. She had been hoping for a rest, and now this.

Clare's Holy Mana began to stir, forming tendrils around her and dispersing the falling snowflakes. She wanted to deal with the spider quickly so she could rest. Instead of drawing her scythe, she decided to use her fists. She wanted to test "The Power of Shockwaves," a technique she had mastered to the extreme during Seclusion Training. The past few days had been peaceful, and she hadn’t had a chance to use it.

She channeled Holy Mana, stepping back as she began to bounce on her toes, slowly but surely. Her momentum increased as she exhaled skyward and earthward simultaneously. At this point—pulse, breathing, blood flow, energy flow, and every part of her body system, even her own weight—became keenly felt by Clare. Her senses focused on the impending danger, drowning out everything else. Slowly, her eyes opened, glowing with intense malice. Her fist clenched tightly. She parted the ground with her feet, shooting forward at a rapid pace. The chilly air brushed across her face as she moved toward the snow spider.

The technique required Holy Mana to flow into her muscles, morphing her fists and enhancing them tenfold. 

It was a good warm-up.

“Kyiiiiiigh!”

The spider’s huge, blood-soaked legs approached relentlessly, aiming to pierce Clare as she got closer. With a hair-breadth evasion, Clare dodged, the monster’s sharp legs piercing empty air and causing a shockwave that split a tree trunk. Without hesitation, Clare swung her right fist.

The air shook with the force of the impact as a spatial-ripping shockwave tore apart the beast’s front legs. Clare didn’t stop there; she punched its body simultaneously, her enhanced fists ripping its abdomen open.

“Kyiiigh!!!”

The snow spider let out a terrifying screech as each bone-crushing shockwave from Clare’s punches shattered it, soon rendering it lifeless. It fell with a loud thud. Standing on the fallen corpse, Clare wiped away the splattered fluid from her face. It was extremely sticky. Could there be a river nearby to wash this off? Or should she melt some snow? The latter seemed like the best option, though she had no pot to hold the snow. Sighing in disappointment, Clare felt discomfort with all the flesh and blood on her body.

She glanced at her fist, which had tendrils of yellow-hued Holy Mana oozing from it. Her fist had morphed considerably, veins popping here and there. It wasn’t particularly pretty, but not ugly either. Unclenching and clenching her fist in slight bewilderment and amusement, Clare mused at the damage "The Power of Shockwaves" had inflicted on the snow spider, which could normally boast tight exoskeleton defenses.

“Huh?” 

Clare's ears perked up in alarm, her bushy nine tails tensing. Her “Seventh Mind” automatically activated, scanning for danger.

More snow spiders were coming. Not two, but three. Their deafening cries filled the air as…

“Kyiiiiiigh! Kyiiiiiigh! Kyiiiiiigh!”

…the shrieks blasted away the falling snowflakes, stirring up the area. Even Clare, who had braced herself, was pushed two meters back. The rumbling of their eight legs shook the ground, causing the snow-covered forest to tremble. Snow spiders weren’t usually group creatures, but hunger had driven them to abnormal behavior. A reason Clare had witnessed in the past from the young Arrancars after the Seclusion training.

Having a very keen sense of smell, Clare could distinguish the blood of the spider she had just killed. If her hypothesis was correct, these spiders, starving after hibernation, were desperate for food. The “Great Edge” was a barren, freezing wasteland, forcing them to turn on each other. Even that wasn’t enough. Somehow, they had detected her disguised scent.

To most young Arrancars or inexperienced combatants, these spiders would be lethal predators. But this one made a mistake by attacking Clare, an abnormal Nin who could control her bloodlust and hide her strength. The first spider was now nothing more than a disfigured corpse.

The fate of the others was sealed. Clare assumed her battle stance, frost forming around her as she prepared to level up her game. She decided to test a new technique. Holy mana flowed into her fists as she struck the air.

In one swift motion, she punched, sending shockwaves that distorted the terrain. The blast smashed the head of the second snow spider, flinging its limbs into the air. Gooey fluids splattered across trees and mingled with the snow.

“Kyiiiiiiiigh!”

Amid the dirt, snow, and debris, the last spider tried a sneak attack from Clare’s blind spot. But her “Seventh Mind” had already sensed it. The air around her fist crackled as Holy Mana burned fiercely. She swung her right fist, and the shockwave blasted its forelimbs, delaying its attack. Gooey fluids splattered everywhere.

This spider had a decent defense, but it didn’t matter. It withstood one attack—what about two?

Clare’s fist lanced through the air with a loud roar, turning the spider into a gruesome mess. Its body parts scattered, and blood dripped from her fist. Gooey fluid splashed across her, making her long for a bath. She exhaled a frosty breath and scanned the area with her “Seventh Mind.” 

The coast was clear.

“Looks like this was the last one,” Clare muttered.

She shook the fluids from her fist and wiped her face with her cloak. Picking up a limb, she decided it would make a quick meal over the bonfire. Although still uncomfortable with the goop in her hair and on her tails, a few swipes cleaned them off, making her feel slightly better.

If she were a Knight or a fighter, Clare would have extracted the venom sacs from the spider’s shell—valuable for their anesthetic effects and worth a good price. But she wasn’t, and she was already rich enough from her safehouse hoard. 

Besides, she’d had enough of this gunk.

It wasn’t all unprofitable, though. She had successfully tested “The Power of Shockwaves,” a technique and its form she mastered during Seclusion training. 

And it had warmed her frigid body.

Clare sat by her bonfire under the canopy, thankful it hadn't been extinguished during the fight. She placed the spider limb over the fire to roast. As she waited for it to cook, she leaned against a tree trunk, contemplating the mission’s time limit that forced her to move to the designated location.

It was a pity. She needed to focus on the task at hand. Completing the mission assigned by the Clan was essential for her path to revenge. However, the thought of traveling across the endless snowy expanse made her shiver. It was exhausting.

“Lumencis, huh?” she murmured aloud, staring into the bonfire. The flames danced, reflected in her emerald eyes.

Lumencis was in the Northernmost part of the Demon Clan’s territory, adjacent to the Middle States and the Great Families. The area had smaller, independent forces that weren't tied to the major powerhouses of Salamander and the Central Holy Church. Most had signed non-aggression pacts with the Clan, so they were left alone. Occasionally, though, reckless groups would emerge.

There was only one group mission, and the details given to the young Arrancars by the Institute were sparse. It was said that bandits, monsters who called themselves “Treasure Hunters,” raided the Niphrim Fortress, the "Merchant Bank" of demon commoners, and eradicated demons in the process. These "purple hobbits" vandalized the Clan’s territory with no regard for who they were.

Clare considered them fools who thought too highly of themselves. Even the “Demon Lords” and “Demon General” of the Demon Clan, who swore loyalty to the Clan, were enraged. The Clan couldn’t ignore their duty to protect their citizens and followers. It was their responsibility.

After taking a few bites of the roasted spider limb, Clare found it neither delicious nor bad—just decent enough for survival. She packed the rest of the meat, wrapping it in cloth for later. Eating such a meal was better than starving or enduring a growling stomach all day.

Next, Clare took a quick nap. She practiced “Mithril Soul and Body Reinforcement” and “Mithril Physique Circulation” in the lotus position, which helped her shake off fatigue and warm her body. This reduced her need for sleep to just thirty minutes.

As the silent night faded into the early morning, the cold wind began to rise. Clare prepared to move. She walked through the snow-covered northern forest, her steel-like body pushing through the thick snow. Her mind drifted back to the mission: a kill-on-sight order. She had to eliminate them all without hesitation.

Leaving the forest, her eyes caught sight of a snow-covered signboard: “Great Edge.” This was both an entry and exit point. Clare pressed on northward, leaving the endless snow behind. She knew that walking through it had been exhausting, especially when in a hurry.

After a time, hunger set in. She found a spot warmer and more favorable than the harsh environment she had just left. Unpacking the meat, Clare noted that it had preserved well, despite a few bites already taken. Nodding in approval, she began to eat. The meat wasn’t delicious, but it had a deep, satisfying taste. She washed it down with water from a pouch she had been refilling during her journey.

As she ate, Clare reflected on her situation. Despite her burning desire for revenge, she was still a living being who got hungry like anyone else, regardless of her strength. She remembered her awakening in the Institute of Arrancars as a half-breed, enduring trials, training, and life among demons with varied appearances and personalities. In many ways, she had become an Arrancar herself.

Survival had become second nature, but her only real desire was revenge. What would come after that? Clare didn’t know, but she figured she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Her tails fluttered, and the ends curled in disappointment as she chewed the tasteless meat, realizing she was still alive and kicking. Despite her dislike for monster meat, which paled compared to the meals at the institute, she forced herself to savor it.

A fresh wind blew. It was different from the cold of “Great Edge.” Her ears perked up, and her tails shivered. Clare knew that if one paid attention, the wind could tell a lot. The saying goes, “The world itself is full of secrets, and everything has meaning.” Clare recognized the meaning in this wind.

“It’s going to rain soon,” she muttered.

The wind was full of moisture, signaling that rain was imminent and wouldn’t stop anytime soon. Clare got up, finishing the last of her meal, and discarded the scraps before tidying up. She looked around for shelter and spotted an ancient, run-down shrine. It appeared to have once belonged to goblin shamans. The vibe it gave off, along with the scattered bones of both monsters and humans and the damaged talismans and inscriptions on the walls and floor, confirmed its shamanistic origins.

Despite its decrepit state, Clare decided to use the shrine to escape the rain for a few hours. Moving in the rain was not a good idea. Shortly after she settled inside, the rain began to pour. Thunder roared amidst thick, gloomy clouds, and purplish lightning flashed. Heavy raindrops hammered the roof as Clare leaned against a pillar, watching the curtain of rain.

It had been a long time since she had seen rain like this. Clare closed her eyes and muttered, “Change…”

This was what she hoped to accomplish after her revenge—a change, something more meaningful than just her altered body or surroundings. Life in the Demon Clan was stagnant, a never-ending cycle of strength, training, and hierarchy—clichés she had read about in her first life. Time seemed meaningless, and the expectation that something would change was absent.

But the outside world, beyond the Demon Clan, was different, like her previous life as the Heavenly Saintess. Every day was new, with no two days exactly the same. Clare briefly entertained the idea of indulging in alcohol or drugs to escape her thoughts but quickly dismissed it. Both as the Heavenly Saintess and a half-breed, she knew better. Such indulgences only brought back painful memories and dulled the senses and instincts vital for survival.

Then, out of nowhere, the sound of footsteps reached Clare's ears. Her tails curled as she recognized the familiar feeling. She swallowed dryly in anticipation, listening closely. Someone was walking through the rain. After a moment, figures appeared at the entrance of the shaman shrine.

“Ah! What’s this? Now I’m all wet.”

“That’s why I told you to hurry, you sissy. It’s your own fault for being so slow.”

“Clan Ancestor! We’re fortunate to have found the Shaman Shrine. Stop arguing, both of you.”

The trio that dashed into the shrine was an odd group, soaked through by the relentless rain. A succubus who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, and a middle-aged ogre made up this unusual company.

As soon as they entered, the succubus lifted the hem of her robe, glaring at the old ogre.

“My underwear is drenched! What am I going to do, Yu Ziao? What am I supposed to do?”

“Why are you asking me? It’s not my fault your clothes got wet.”

“Of course, it’s your fault! You’re the one who got us lost, making us wander around. So, Yu Ziao, you must take responsibility.”

“Ugh!”

Yu Ziao turned his head away, exasperated by the succubus’s twisted logic.

The middle-aged orc shook his head at their constant bickering. He muttered to himself, “Clan Ancestor, Blessed One who grants great mercy, why test me with such a burden? Out of everyone, why must I be stuck with these two?”

“Hmph. Anyone listening would think you’re normal. But that’s hardly the case, is it?”

The succubus, quick to shift her attention, targeted the orc this time. He sighed, shutting his eyes as if to surrender. The succubus, now satisfied, smirked triumphantly.

With her hands on her hips, she surveyed the shrine. Even with her clothes clinging from the rain, her allure was undeniable. The wet fabric accentuated every curve of her body.

Suddenly, her gaze sharpened.

“Oh? Someone’s here.”

She had finally noticed Clare, an adult half-breed Nîn, leaning against a pillar. Clare’s green eyes, empty and indifferent, were fixed on them.