Demonic Kitsune

Void. 

An empty space where time is meaningless, where consciousness drifts apart. Thoughts and memories are intangible, nonexistent. Feelings, too, are mysteriously limited. This darkness is far worse than the one in Seclusion Training or the kind that shrouds vision when eyes are closed. Instead, it is an endless expanse of incomprehensible blackness, where even relativity is absent. Any entity that falls into it remains comatose, endlessly floating within its embrace.

The Void has countless meanings, definitions, and sensations. What is it? What does it look like? How does one overcome it? Most importantly, how does it feel? Every entity swallowed by the Void is equally condemned to stay there, bound for eternity, indulging in its deceptive relaxation and peace.

Eternity? What does that even mean in the Void? The closest thing to that terrifying place is Death. Even that is Empty. 

Yet, despite its incomprehensible and unfathomable nature, a concentrated, blinding light pierces through it. How? How could an infinite, indestructible space like the Void be pierced and made to yield to someone’s will? One can’t fathom the secrets of the Void, so how could one comprehend those born to overcome its embrace with sheer will?

This blinding light, which left a dent in the Void, begins to gather in one spot. It twists and swirls around itself, moving toward its desire. Like thousands of tendrils dashing across the Void’s cosmos, the light gradually takes form—an astral figure, glowing with brilliance. Green eyes shine with determination. Ears perk up. Nine fluffy tails sway behind. This divine entity, shimmering with ethereal power, rushes forward as if it has found its purpose.

It reaches out, grabbing an entity floating within the Void’s embrace, and pulls it back toward the dent it created. Teeth gritted, eyes swollen with tears, the divine being hopes that the one it is trying to save will awaken and remember her goal.

Her goal? Yes, her goal for vengeance. Instinctively, she resists the relaxation and peace the Void had placed within her soul. Her hand clenches tightly. She bites her lower lip in determination. As they slip through the closing dent, a smile spreads across the divine entity’s face. She has done it. Her desire is fulfilled.

The dent closes, and the Void continues as if nothing had ever happened. After all, time is meaningless, consciousness drifts apart, thoughts and memories are intangible, non-existent, and feelings remain mysteriously limited. Those within its embrace continue their endless cycle of floating, relaxation, and tranquility…

And like that, Clare’s consciousness slowly returned, the heavy haze lifting from her mind. The first thing she noticed was the steady rhythm of raindrops tapping against the earth, the sound amplified by the stone walls around her. A distant rumble of thunder echoed, accompanied by flashes of lightning that briefly illuminated the cave’s entrance. The air was cool and damp, filled with the earthy scent of wet stone and moss.

Her body felt heavy, every muscle aching as if it had been stretched to its limits and beyond. She tried to move but was too weak, her head throbbing slightly. A gentle pressure underneath her head brought her back to reality. 

Slowly opening her eyes, she realized she was resting on someone’s lap. Through her blurred vision, she saw the outline of someone with unkempt, curly raven-dark hair—a change from its usual silky texture. The person’s eyes were closed, their features striking, with a sharp nose and cherry-red lips.

Despite her blurred vision, Clare could make out two shiny horns near the person’s temples. The familiarity of this figure tugged at her mind. Who could it be? The question lingered as she tried to recall when she, the Heavenly Saintess, had passed out. Passed out? Right, that… Clare wasn’t able to finish her thought as her lips involuntarily moved. 

“I…”

The wind blew from the entrance, and droplets from the person’s damp hair fell onto Clare’s cheek. At that moment, the person’s eyes shot open, revealing shimmering golden irises that glanced down at her.  A soft, gentle yet menacing voice pierced Clare's thoughts.

“I? ‘I’ what?”

Goosebumps rose on Clare’s skin as her ears perked up in alarm. Her fluffy tails curled at the ends in reflex, sending a jolt through her body. Suddenly, her vision cleared, and Clare recognized the mysterious figure.

“Noir?” Clare whispered, her voice hoarse.

Noir’s eyes, hovering above Clare, squinted in concern—an unusual expression on her typically composed face. Flashes of lightning from the entrance cast shadows across her features.

“You’re awake,” Noir said, relief in her voice. “How are you feeling?”

Clare tried to sit up, but Noir gently held her down. “Easy. You’ve been out for an hour. Your body’s still recovering.”

“What… happened?” Clare asked, memories of the battle coming back in fragments—the creation of a Legendary Technique that summoned the Ancient Dark Moon Crescent Dragon, the overwhelming power that reduced the Fairy Saint to a gory mess, and the crushing fatigue that followed. Her hands clenched slightly as she tried to recall everything.

Noir smiled, glancing toward the cave entrance where the rain fell steadily. Her eyes reflected the lightning outside. “You pushed yourself too far, GIMEL. After you defeated the Fairy Saint, your body gave out. The backlash was intense. The others were still fighting, but I managed to get you here before anything happened.”

Clare’s green eyes widened in realization. “You… moved me here?”

Noir nodded.

“And you didn’t touch anything!” Clare said quickly.

“I didn’t…” Noir answered. 

“Not even by mistake?” Clare asked again, her eyes squinting. 

Noir shook her head. She had been too concerned with Gimel’s well-being to think of anything else. Perhaps at some point, while GIMEL was unconscious, she had been curious about touching her fluffy tails and ears, but in the end, she controlled herself. Noir’s face flushed briefly at the thought before she returned to her calm expression, coughing twice and shivering slightly from the cold. 

Clare sighed, waiting for her answer. 

“There was no time to wait for help,” Noir continued. “The others were too occupied holding off the Ten Monsterized Knights of Wrath. CHETH, who I assume is your second-in-command, was giving it his all. He ordered the others to keep the Knights at bay from targeting us while protecting my squad.”

Clare felt a surge of guilt. She had overestimated her strength; her foxy side, though stronger, still needed more work. Unable to endure the backlash, she had coughed up blood and withdrawn from the battlefield—a scenario that would have been impossible in her previous life as the Heavenly Saintess.

“I should…” she said.

As if realizing what GIMEL was about to say, Noir gritted her teeth for the first time and cut her off. “You’ve done more than enough,” she said, her voice firm yet gentle. Her worry was evident—her heart had nearly stopped when GIMEL fainted. “If you had stayed out there any longer, you might have…” She hesitated to say the damned words and instead said, “Caught a cold. I don’t like it when someone I care about catches a cold. So, let the others finish this. They’re strong, after all.”

There were young Arrancars who had been through worse than hell in the Institute before this. Noir was certain of that, and Clare was too.

Clare stared up at Noir. “Alright, I guess the remaining enemies shouldn’t be a problem for them.”

“Right, they’re holding their own pretty well, despite the weather and rough terrain,” Noir reassured her. “The battle’s reaching its peak. It won’t be long before it’s over. You don’t need to worry. Focus on recovering.”

Clare wasn’t worried about them; she just wanted to know their condition after an hour. Who would have thought the Ten Monsterized Knights of the Great Families would be here, of all places? After the Holy Grail War, it was only natural that the Great Families would be discarded, but why here? Why now? It was baffling, but she chose not to dwell on it. Though her power had significantly diminished since she first encountered the Fairy Saint, they were still formidable—at least comparable to the Fifth Purple. She needed to focus on healing herself.

Clare sighed, closing her eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. Despite Noir’s comforting words, she couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. “Thank you, Noir,” she murmured. “For doing your best.”

Noir’s expression softened into a rare smile that could brighten anyone’s day. The awkwardness was still there as she closed her eyes. “No need to thank me. This is nothing compared to what I’d do for someone I care about in this kind of situation.”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the steady patter of rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. Clare closed her eyes again, letting herself relax in Noir’s comforting presence. The rain outside was tapering off, but for now, she allowed herself a moment of peace.

As the minutes passed, Clare’s strength slowly returned. The "Ancient Text" of the “Gradual Healing Chant” she had initiated was gradually working its wonders on her internal injuries. She knew she would soon have to rejoin the others—or they would join her here. She couldn’t tell what the future held. But for now, she was content to rest, reassured by Noir’s presence. The storm outside raged on, but within the cave, there was a quiet calm—a brief respite in the midst of chaos. Clare, the Heavenly Saintess, allowed herself to simply be, trusting Noir just a bit longer.

— — — — —

“Huuuu!” 

Clare let out a deep breath of frost as she circulated Demonic energy through her body. Normally, she would use Holy Mana, but with SETH around, she couldn't summon it.

She sat upright, letting her damp robes slip slightly off her shoulder. Her body was covered in wounds, though they had begun to heal thanks to the “Gradual Healing”—"Σταδιακή Θεραπεία ενός Αρχαίου Φοίνικα"—she chanted in the final moments of the battle. The spell had even mended her internal injuries.

Clare had intentionally halted the healing process, ensuring her external wounds remained visible. If anyone, like SETH, noticed her condition before she blacked out, it could raise suspicions. 

Instead, leaving her wounds partially healed would suggest she had only recovered a little from the backlash, relying on her strong Demonic Physique and vitality.

Clare was quietly amazed. Though she had suffered worse injuries in the past—pierced by great weapons and poisoned beyond even the help of the Outer Gods—this was the first time she had faced such a challenge since becoming GIMEL. Since her second transmigration, no one had threatened her enough to push her past her limits, causing a backlash.

In her previous life as the Heavenly Saintess, she wouldn’t have struggled against an Unofficial Fairy Saint. Now, Clare realized she still had much to improve. Acknowledging this, she began applying medicinal ointment to her wounds. Noir, sitting behind her, coughed slightly, offering help. Clare snorted but noticed Noir holding out her own ointment.

“If there’s any place you can’t reach, just ask. Okay?” Noir offered.

Clare didn’t respond, and Noir didn’t expect an answer. She simply began applying the ointment to Clare’s back, which was also covered in scars. Noir’s eyes widened at the sight, but soon a smile formed as her fingertips traced the edges of the scars, fascinated.

Clare hadn’t shown it earlier, but every movement was painful. Noir, however, recalled how GIMEL hadn’t let go of her scythe during the Fairy Saint’s relentless attacks, even as wounds sprayed and blood splattered. She found it amazing and considered the moment precious. GIMEL’s victory wasn’t just due to her power. It was her willpower and mental fortitude that kept her fighting until the end. If GIMEL could defeat the Fairy Saint with just two alloy-steel bracers, what could she do without any restraints? The thought excited Noir.

The difference between herself and GIMEL thrilled Noir. It made her realize she wasn’t strong enough yet—that there was always more beyond her current limits. After applying the ointment, Noir brought out a clean, damp sarashi and wrapped it around the treated areas on Clare’s body.

“… I guess we’re even now, with no debt between us,” Noir suddenly said.

Clare realized Noir was talking about how she had been sent to help her under the Clan’s orders but had blacked out because of it. The enemy was defeated anyway, but now Noir had helped her back.

“… But, you still owe me dinner sometime in the future, okay?”

Clare stood up and put on the long-collared cardigan cloak that Zhan Ruyan—who had returned a while ago and settled deep in the cave with the others around a bonfire after eliminating the remaining enemies—handed her.

“You’ve got some wild imaginations there, Noir,” Clare said coldly.

Noir looked surprised. GIMEL’s eyes were sharp, but she didn’t use her “Arrancar name” given by the Institute.

“What do you mean, ‘no debt’?” Clare continued as she grabbed her scythe and began wrapping it in cloth. “And ‘buy you dinner’? I’m pretty sure you still owe me. Let me be clear. Buying you dinner, now or in the future, might not happen. Why? Because you didn’t win against me back then. You looked down on me and didn’t use your ultimate technique, so you backed off. If you think you’re doing me a favor because you like me, don’t. I don’t like those who look down on me.”

Noir’s eyes widened as if she had been stabbed in the heart. But Clare didn’t care and continued, “If you think I’m wrong, then try me right now.”

Frosty tendrils of energy danced around Clare’s body. Even Zhan Ruyan, close to them, felt sweat trickle down his cheek as he backed away. Clare had just finished a battle and was recovering from fatigue. Anyone who saw her fall and noticed her scars would know she wasn’t in her best condition. Though the sarashi wasn’t stained with blood, signaling her wounds had mostly healed, it wasn’t ideal to fight after a backlash, which could make things worse.

But Noir didn’t dare to speak as the tension in the air thickened. It felt as though an illusion of a vast, empty void with will-o’-wisp eyes, brimming with death, was staring her down. Yet, she didn’t flinch or swallow nervously. It wasn’t fear or intimidation that held her back, but something else entirely…

Clare spoke again, her voice steady. “Don’t be an absent-minded Arrancar. If you want something in Salamander, you need to be stronger in body, mind, and spirit to protect it. If you’re looking for someone to hand it over freely or for it to fall into your grasp just because you want it, then don’t pretend to be a real Arrancar or a combatant.”

Noir remained silent as the bad vibe pressuring the air around her grew, bubbling like water in a kettle over a fire.

Clare’s gaze turned intense. “You grab what you want by any means necessary, even if it costs you a million drops of blood. And when you obtain it, instead of being a little bitch and rejoicing, you protect it with all your strength.”

After her mini-lecture, Clare’s eyes returned to normal, and she walked toward the First Young Arrancar Squad at the far side of the cave. Noir watched her leave, her eyes narrowing as lightning flickered in the distance. The bad vibe around her intensified, but something changed within her. She clenched her fist and bit her lower lip, realizing she had a new goal—something more important than just becoming stronger and protecting the one she was obsessed with.

"I’ll work toward what I seek and take in whatever comes my way, whether it’s appropriate or not. I must obtain it at all costs." Noir declared as the wind blew into the cave, making Clare pause for a moment.

It was no longer just a mere desire, but a need—a determination to achieve her goal rather than hoping it would simply fall into her hands. With this resolve, Noir’s expression returned to normal, determination burning in her heart. She smiled, taking Clare’s advice to heart, though the bad vibes lingered, fueled by the harsh reality of her beloved’s words.

“In that case, work toward it,” Clare said, turning slightly with a smile as she continued walking. “Maybe then it’ll acknowledge you and fall into your hands.”

Noir nodded and turned, staring at the rain near the cave’s entrance. The flashes of lightning and the rumble of thunder mirrored the turmoil within her. 

Though her heart had been pierced unexpectedly, it was for the best. It brought her back to reality about Salamander, life, and how GIMEL truly saw her. She sighed, realizing the mission had been worth it and that she had learned valuable lessons.

“...The rain is indeed beautiful,” she whispered, staring out into the storm.

— — — — — 

“Hmph!” 

Clare sighed at Noir’s new expression. It was still weird and creepy, but much better—and more beautiful—than before. After all, she had given her some good advice.

Honestly, it really was just advice. Clare clearly recognized Noir’s talent and the disastrous threat she posed as an Arrancar. If Noir harbored ambitions similar to Clare's, it was likely she would be stopped by an incomplete desire that Clare was immune to. She might use that as a drive to grow short of her true potential and miss out on becoming a formidable opponent in the bid for the “Visored.” On the other hand, if she could overcome that mere desire and emerge with a complete goal no one saw coming, she could become a serious threat to other competitors.

If, as Noir had declared that she understood the advice and decided to change, then Clare’s words had been the right ones. But Noir’s actions were extremely odd and awkward—different from what Clare had previously expected. It was as if she had no real goal beyond protecting that “thing” she sought, even though the “thing” hadn’t acknowledged her nor believed she truly desired it. After all, it could be a fib, mere excitement, or an illusion.

Of course, that “thing” didn’t care. It didn’t even bat an eye at those pretending to be adults with real goals and ambitions but then acting like children…

“Tsk.” Clare, as an old granny, shook her head again and clicked her tongue. Her bushy tails stood up and curled among themselves. But no matter how she thought about it, it was really unnecessary for a kid without a goal to seek that “thing” without understanding what it meant.

But one thing was clear. There was no debt to be evened, nor a dinner to be bought. Instead, Noir owed her for the future. In simpler terms, the Demoness of the Demonic Arrancar Clan is indebted to her… perhaps, just maybe that was an overstatement, but still. Once Clare’s thoughts came to this, she banished them altogether and shouted at the members, “Did you retrieve the heads of the Ten Monsterized Knights of Wrath and the Gory Mess of the Fairy Saint?”

Though the First Young Arrancar Squad was extremely exhausted and cold, they immediately jolted awake at their leader’s words. Sitting near the Second Young Arrancar Squad, they had been gathered around the bonfire, circulating their demonic energy. They answered with vigor, “Yes, we’ve retrieved them all!”

It seemed Zhan Ruyan had ordered them well after their victories. Indeed, he was worthy of being the second-in-command. Clare nodded and shouted again, “Then get ready! We’re returning home!”

“Yes, Squad Leader.”

Even though the Fairy Saint and the Ten Monsterized Knights of Wrath had originally been the mission of the Second Young Arrancar Squad, half of Clare’s squad had defeated the enemies and protected the others during the battle. So, Clare had every right to take all the credit. In short, the credit was the price for her advice.

Among the things the First Young Arrancar Squad retrieved were the alloy-steel bracers Clare had removed before fighting the Fairy Saint. Seeing them inside the cave, Clare and Zhan Ruyan’s eyes met, and he gave a slight nod. Smiling faintly in appreciation, Clare took the bracers. As soon as she wore them, the heavy weight crushed her body once more. It was like alloy-steel chains imprisoning her, sealing her senses, and slowing her down.

But Clare didn’t complain about the feeling. She had chosen this path herself; she wouldn’t dare complain now. But not everyone felt the same.

“I know you prefer training over resting, but why not take a break once in a while?” Zhan Ruyan came closer, politely advising.

Clare shook her head lightly. “I’ve already had that. Too much rest blurs the mind. Unless your life is on the edge, it’s better to temper yourself even in extreme situations. That way, even in the worst cases, you won’t make excuses like losing because of a break or poor condition.” Clare’s eyes narrowed. “After all, Death is never fair, no matter the situation.”

Those who made excuses like that were useless, regardless of their actual strength or talent. And Death didn’t care whether someone was useless. It lurked in the shadows, coming like a thief in the night to steal one’s life when they let their guard down for even a split second. Clare, who fully understood this as the Heavenly Saintess in her past life, was trying to prevent herself and others from walking a path that increased Death’s chances of looming over them.

Zhan Ruyan muttered, “Understood. I’ll keep those precious words to heart,” and nodded and clenched his fist.

Seeing his eyes, Clare knew that as soon as they returned to the Clan, Zhan Ruyan might also get some alloy-steel bracers. Either way, he was both likely to enter a state of intense training. His talent was good enough that, if he strived, he could achieve quite a lot. As the former most talented and gifted young Arrancar, CHETH, Zhan Ruyan’s talent had been unparalleled.

It was a thousand times better than the original GIMEL’s. Even now, he boasted a more muscular, chiseled physique and was a couple of inches taller than Clare, who had a slower growth rate. Fortunately, Clare wasn’t much smaller compared to her peers. Because of the constant use of ‘Mithril Body and Soul Reinforcement’ and ‘Mithril Physique Circulation,’ her body was steadily improving day by day.

‘Though I’m not far from achieving perfection,’ 

At first, she had estimated it would take ten years to complete her body, given the stunted growth flaw from the “Mithril Body and Soul Reinforcement.” But due to her proficiency and her methods of amending the flaw, the overall negative effect of the holy mana accumulation techniques, which enabled the user to possess a soul imbued with regulated and dense holy power and a physique as sturdy as Mithril, was being slowly minimized. After ten years, it was optimal enough, but still not perfect.

The only problem was that the change had happened gradually and would continue to do so. There was no record of the ancient gatekeepers who practiced this technique reaching its end, so the limits were unknown. As a Half-breed Arrancar, there should be no limits to their road. It was extremely slow but endless.

Nevertheless, her goal was “completion.” 

Clare circulated her energy with a faint smile. The energy she used was Holy Mana through the “Mithril Body and Soul Reinforcement” and “Mithril Physique Circulation,” which sped up her recovery process. An injured body that slowly recovered was better and more optimal than one that healed immediately. She practiced in lotus form around the bonfire as the Young Arrancars prepared for departure. 

To her, the process was never considered complete.

In the distance, even Noir was preparing as the wind blew, signaling that the relentless rain was about to stop.

At that moment, the heavy rain ceased after lightning tore through the atmosphere and thunder rumbled, shaking the earth. Zhan Ruyan approached Clare, bowing slightly. “All preparations are complete.”

Clare concluded her recovery, stood up, and walked toward the cave’s entrance. Zhan Ruyan and the rest followed suit as she gave her order.

“With all our missions concluded, we’re returning to the Demon Clan!”

Everyone nodded. Though not fully rested, their bodies had recovered enough. They soon left the cave, their feet parting from the ground and melding with the wind. Like comets through the dark atmosphere with twisted, gloomy clouds and eerie sparks of lightning, they ran at a reasonable speed, leaping effortlessly over obstacles. Every movement was precise, almost delicate, as they headed toward their new destination.

Back to the Demonic Arrancar Clan.