Foxkin of the Night Sky

After nearly a week inside the dungeon, Sera had become very good at recognizing when something intended to kill her.

That was useful, considering everything did.

A masked creature lunged, claws extended toward her face.

Sera stepped beneath the leap and drove her spear through the soft tissue beneath its jaw.

Wood-aspected mana surged down the shaft as she released the skill.

The spearhead punched through the top of the creature’s skull, then burst apart. Pale splinters tore outward, taking most of its head and the lower half of its mask with them.

Sera released the ruined shaft as the body fell past her, turning quickly enough to place the corpse between herself and the next two creatures charging across the chamber.

One stumbled over it.

That was useful.

The other was not inconvenienced at all.

Sera lowered her stance as another wooden spear formed between her palms.

“Piercing Sprout.”

The weapon blurred forward.

Its point entered through the creature’s eye and emerged from the back of its skull in a burst of dark fluid and pale wooden fragments.

It collapsed immediately.

The third minion recovered its balance and lunged from behind the first corpse.

Sera twisted aside, allowing its claws to pass close enough that the displaced air stirred her hair. The spearhead had shattered after the successful strike, leaving little more than a sharpened shaft in her hands.

She discarded it.

A thorn no longer than her smallest finger formed between the fingers of her free hand.

She drove it into the creature’s wrist as it passed.

The minion landed, turned, and managed two steps.

Then its arm stiffened.

Thin brown lines spread beneath its skin, branching outward from the puncture. Flesh hardened into grain. Its fingers fused as bark crawled across the wrist and continued toward the elbow.

The creature stared at the changing limb.

Sera formed another spear.

It looked up just in time for the butt of the weapon to strike its throat.

Cartilage broke.

The minion staggered, choking, while the corruption consumed the rest of its shoulder. The transformed limb became heavy and rigid, dragging its entire body sideways.

Sera drove the spear through its temple.

Another dead.

More were already approaching.

The boss had produced nineteen so far.

Sera had stopped being impressed after twelve.

A heavy impact shook the chamber behind her.

She moved before checking what caused it.

The dungeon boss’s forelimb smashed into the ground where she had been standing, scattering soil and broken stone across the arena. Its claws were longer than her arm, formed from eerily pale bone sharpened into hooked points.

The creature resembled the masked minions only in the broadest sense.

Its body was larger than a wagon and carried on four thick legs. Four arms extended from its upper torso, each long enough to reach the ground even while it stood upright. Layered plates of bone covered its chest and shoulders, while an enormous expressionless mask concealed its face from crown to jaw.

Hairline fractures already marked one side of it.

One of its lower arms was partially wooden.

That was Sera’s work.

It had taken nine successful strikes, and the change had spread less than a handspan.

Slow progress was still progress.

Sera rolled beneath the boss’s next sweep, planted one palm against the soil, and pushed mana downward.

“Thornfield.”

The ground ruptured.

Wooden spikes tore upward in a broad arc, impaling the nearest wave of minions. Two died immediately. Another hung from a spike through its abdomen, kicking hard enough to scatter blood across the surrounding roots.

The boss barely slowed.

Several spikes shattered beneath its weight. Others scraped uselessly across its bone-like plating before snapping at the base.

Sera rose and stepped aside as it charged through the remains of the spell.

The dungeon had taught her several things over the past week.

The first was that most monsters were less complicated than people made them sound. They attacked when angry, guarded whatever had been injured, and repeated anything that had worked once.

The second was that repetition became considerably more dangerous when the creature doing it weighed several tons.

The boss lowered one arm.

Sera watched the angle of its front legs.

An arm sweep, followed by a stomp.

It had used the same combination four times already.

She waited.

The creature thundered toward her, tearing deep furrows through the chamber floor. Behind it, the surviving minions spread outward, moving to close the space she would need to evade.

That was new.

Sera adjusted the plan.

She sprinted directly toward the boss as another wooden spear formed in her hands. This one was denser than the disposable weapons she had used against the minions, its shaft reinforced until the grain looked almost black.

One of the smaller creatures reached her first.

“Piercing Sprout.”

The spear entered beneath its cheekbone.

Sera did not waste time retrieving it cleanly. She kept moving, dragging the impaled creature across her path before wrenching the point free.

The corpse struck a second minion and sent both tumbling beneath the boss’s charge.

The larger creature trampled them without noticing.

Sera stepped inside the arc of its upper-right arm.

Her foot planted against solid ground.

She drove the spear into the damaged lower arm with both hands.

The point sank into the partially converted wood.

Sera released the corruption.

Mana poured through the spearhead in a dense pulse.

Brown veins erupted across the limb, branching through pale flesh far faster than before. Living tissue contracted around the spreading grain as bark forced its way across the elbow.

The boss screamed and threw its upper body back.

Sera released the spear before the motion could dislocate both shoulders.

She was launched anyway.

Her back struck the ground hard enough to empty her lungs.

For one second, the chamber narrowed to blurred stone and the heavy beat of her pulse.

Something shrieked nearby.

Sera rolled.

A minion’s claws struck the soil beside her face.

She caught its wrist, drove a thorn into the joint, and kicked it away before the corruption could spread far enough to restrain it.

The creature stumbled backward.

Sera forced herself upright.

Her spear remained lodged in the boss’s arm.

That was convenient.

The boss turned toward her, smashing the shaft against a nearby outcropping.

The upper half snapped free and spun across the chamber.

Sera watched it land.

Then shrugged.

Her repeated failure to keep a spear lodged inside the boss had complicated the fight, but the corruption did not require a constant stream of mana to continue spreading.

Slowly was acceptable.

She used the brief pause to study the chamber.

Seven minions remained.

Six, if she excluded the one standing motionless near the wall as wood crept steadily across its chest.

The boss’s damaged arm had become nearly useless. The infection now covered an area the size of a dinner plate around the elbow, leaving the joint rigid and forcing the limb to hang at an awkward angle.

A second patch of corruption marked one of its right ankles.

That one was slightly smaller.

It was enough.

With one arm compromised, the rest of the fight would progress faster.

That was how every boss in the dungeon had gone. The first successful application took time. The second made movement awkward. After that, each new weakness made the next one easier to create.

Sera formed another wooden spear and settled into her stance.

The boss charged again.

Good.

Sera was ready.

It crossed the chamber with one useless arm hanging beside its torso, the wooden joint knocking stiffly against its ribs with every stride. The corrupted right ankle still bent, but not properly. Each step landed slightly farther inward than the last.

The creature compensated by leaning left.

That made the next attack obvious.

Its upper arms spread wide as it approached, preparing to trap her between them before bringing its full weight down.

Sera remained still.

One of the surviving minions rushed ahead of the boss, perhaps encouraged by the fact that she had stopped moving.

It lunged for her throat.

“Piercing Sprout.”

Her spear passed through its eye and burst from the back of its skull.

Sera released the ruined weapon and stepped over the falling body without looking down.

The boss was almost on her.

She formed another spear, but not a hardened one. This shaft was thinner, flexible enough to bend without immediately breaking.

One of the he boss’s left arms swept inward.

Sera ducked beneath it.

The second followed from the opposite side.

She stepped forward instead of back, slipping into the narrow space beneath the creature’s chest. Bone plating passed above her head close enough to catch several strands of hair.

The boss lifted one front leg.

A stomp.

Sera thrust her free hand toward the floor, and roots erupted beneath its corrupted ankle.

They wrapped around the joint and pulled.

The boss’s weight came down, and the wooden patch across its ankle cracked slightly. Not enough to break the limb, but enough to prevent it from straightening.

The creature lurched sharply to the right.

Sera moved with it.

She drove her flexible spear through the gap behind its knee, twisted the shaft around the limb, and planted the butt against the ground. Roots curled around its length to hold it in place.

The boss tried to recover.

Its own momentum tightened the weapon like a restraint, and the weakened leg folded.

Several tons of masked creature crashed onto one side with enough force to shake dust from the ceiling.

The nearest minions lost their footing.

Sera did not.

She released the spear, formed a cluster of thorns between both hands, and drove them into every exposed seam she could reach.

The back of the knee.

The underside of the damaged elbow.

The narrow line where the mask met the pale flesh of its neck.

The boss convulsed.

One claw struck her across the ribs before she could retreat.

Pain flared through her side and lifted her from the ground.

Sera landed badly, rolled once, and came to a stop beside one of the remaining minions.

It raised both claws.

She stabbed it through the mouth with another newly formed spear.

The weapon shattered inside its skull, and the minion collapsed across her legs.

Sera shoved it aside and stood.

Breathing hurt.

Probably bruised ribs. Possibly cracked.

Neither prevented walking.

Across the chamber, the boss forced itself upright.

The effort was considerably less successful than before.

Wood spread from the thorns in branching lines. Its damaged arm had become almost entirely rigid, while the infection around its ankle climbed into the lower leg. The thin patch at its neck moved fastest, spreading beneath the edge of the mask where the flesh was softest.

The boss tore at the area with one functioning hand.

Its claws scraped across the bone mask instead.

Sera watched the movement.

There.

A narrow gap opened beneath the jaw whenever it reached upward.

The boss screamed, and the remaining minions rushed her together.

Five.

Sera created yet another spear and planted it in the soil.

“Thornfield.”

The ground split beneath them.

Wooden spikes erupted across the chamber, catching three immediately. One was impaled through the chest. Another lost a leg and fell screaming among the roots. The third got the worst of it, skewered in half a dozen different places.

The last two made it through.

Sera stepped around the first, struck the side of its knee with the spear shaft, and drove the point through its temple as it fell.

The second caught her arm, managing to score the skin.

Sera seized its mask with one hand and shoved a corruption thorn through the eye opening with the other.

The creature stiffened.

She let it fall.

The boss was moving again.

Slowly.

One of it's right legs dragged. One arm no longer responded at all, and the growing corruption beneath its mask had forced its head into a permanent tilt.

It still charged.

Sera admired the commitment.

She lowered her spear.

The boss raised its remaining arms as it approached.

Sera waited until its weight shifted onto the damaged ankle before she suddenly pulled.

The roots still wrapped around the joint tightened at once.

The leg stopped.

The rest of the boss did not.

Its body pitched forward.

Sera sprinted directly toward it.

The mask filled her vision.

At the final moment, the creature reached upward in an attempt to catch itself.

The gap beneath its jaw opened.

Sera planted one foot against a rising root and launched herself upward.

“Piercing Sprout.”

The hardened spear entered through the exposed throat.

Wood-aspected mana surged down the shaft in one concentrated pulse.

The point punched through the creature’s skull and struck the inside of its mask.

Then it exploded.

The back of the boss’s head ruptured outward in a storm of splinters, dark blood, and fragments of pale bone.

Its body continued forward for several steps after Sera landed.

Then the damaged ankle gave way.

The boss collapsed heavily enough to crack the floor beneath its mask.

Silence settled over the chamber.

One of the impaled minions twitched.

Sera formed a thorn and threw it into the creature’s eye.

It stopped.

She remained where she was for several seconds, spear lowered, listening for movement.

Nothing.

Good.

Sera exhaled and immediately regretted it when pain tightened around her ribs.

Definitely cracked.

Sera looked toward the dead boss before checking the notification waiting at the edge of her vision.

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You have slain Bone Mask Patriarch (Level 50 | Tier 2).

An experience bonus has been awarded for slaying a monster 3 levels above you.

Your race has leveled up to level 49.

Your class has leveled up to level 49.

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Dungeon Boss: The Patriarch has been defeated.

A treasure chest has spawned.

Dungeon will close automatically in 1 hour.

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One more level.

That was all she needed before unlocking her Class Advancement and Evolution.

Unfortunately, it would have to wait.

Sera had already killed everything in the dungeon worth killing, and spending the remaining hour hunting weak creatures for negligible experience sounded both inefficient and unpleasant.

She dismissed the notifications with a wave and crossed the chamber toward the newly spawned treasure chest.

Bending down proved to be a mistake.

Sharp pain lanced through her ribs, forcing a quiet hiss between her teeth as her ears flattened. Sera straightened again and waited several seconds for the worst of it to fade.

Then she pointed one hand toward the ground.

A thin root pushed through the soil beside the chest, curled beneath the lid, and slowly forced it open.

A trick she had learned from Lyn.

Her roots lacked anything resembling the Foxkin’s durability or control, which made them difficult to use effectively in combat. For small tasks requiring her not to bend over with cracked ribs, however, they were considerably more valuable.

The root reached into the chest and retrieved a red potion.

Sera took it and drank without hesitation.

Warmth spread through her chest as the potion took effect. The cuts along her arm and side began closing, while the grinding pain around her ribs eased into something more manageable.

An Uncommon healing potion would not repair everything.

She knew that from experience.

It would be enough.

The root retrieved two more bottles, one blue and one green. Sera drank those as well, replenishing the Mana and Stamina she had spent throughout the fight.

Satisfied, she directed the root to remove the remaining potions from the chest.

It deposited them carefully beside her before reaching back inside and extracting the final two items.

The moment the chest was empty, it dissolved into drifting motes of light.

A swirling gate of fog rose from the ground nearby.

The dungeon exit.

Sera stored as many of the spare potions as she could fit inside the small pouch at her hip, then turned her attention toward the remaining loot.

A spear made entirely from pale bone rested beside a smaller version of the Patriarch’s mask.

She reached for the spear first and activated Inspect.

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[Patriarch’s Fang (Rare)]

A spear carved entirely from the hardened bone of a Bone Mask Patriarch. Despite its unsettling origin, the weapon is remarkably well balanced, its narrow point shaped to pierce gaps in natural armor.

Runic Patterns:

Moderate Thrust Enhancement (20%)

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[Mask of the Bone Patriarch (Rare)]

A smaller replica of the expressionless mask worn by a Bone Mask Patriarch. Its dense construction offers exceptional protection to the face and skull, though its weight and narrow eye openings make it cumbersome to wear.

Runic Patterns:

Major Structural Reinforcement (30%)

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Sera read the descriptions several times, her tail flicking thoughtfully behind her.

After a few seconds, she reached a conclusion.

“Good spear.”

The mask was promptly ignored.

Had Sera possessed spatial storage like Lyn, she could have kept it to sell later. Unfortunately, she did not, and carrying an oversized bone mask several hours through the forest sounded irritating.

She left it beside the vanished chest and approached the swirling gate of fog.

The final fight was over.

All that remained was returning to the village.

Sera briefly reached for her waterskin before remembering that she had emptied it several hours ago.

Despite rationing it effectively.

The tip of her tail gave a single, irritated lash.

Then she stepped through the gate.

A brief wave of disorientation passed through her before solid ground returned beneath her feet. Damp stone and stale cavern air vanished, replaced by the scent of soil, leaves, and living wood.

Sera inhaled slowly.

Better.

She hopped in place several times to assess her injuries.

Her ribs still protested whenever she moved too sharply, and the cut along her upper arm had not fully closed, leaving an angry red line down her bicep. Neither injury should prevent her from moving close to full speed.

So she set off.

The village was only a few hours away. The sun hung near the center of the sky, leaving her plenty of time to arrive before dark.

Then she could find water.

A bath would also be useful, as much as she didn't want to.

Proper food came immediately after that.

Sera had grown tired of eating the raw, unpleasantly chewy meat of the Bone Masks. It was edible, and her Catkin teeth made tearing through it easy enough, but that did not make the experience enjoyable.

She glanced down at the claw marks running across the side of her tunic.

...New clothes would probably be necessary as well.

Seconds became minutes.

Minutes became hours.

Eventually, unfamiliar stretches of wilderness gave way to trees she recognized. The woods she had lived around her entire life gradually thinned, revealing the vast orchards surrounding the frontier village.

Sera slowed long enough to take several handfuls of berries as she passed.

Normally, she disliked stealing.

At present, hunger won.

She would give Arlo a copper or two when she returned.

He would refuse.

Sera would insist.

The matter was therefore already settled.

As she drew closer to the village walls, her enhanced Perception began separating distant sounds from the rustling berry bushes.

Voices.

Shouting, specifically.

Excited rather than frightened.

Sera sighed.

Thane was probably wrestling with the new guard again.

Matthew had made the mistake of accepting once, which apparently meant Thane now considered it a permanent arrangement.

She was still a kilometer from the village when a sharp crack carried through the orchard.

Stone breaking.

Sera stopped. She recognized that sound.

“Oh.”

A streak of pale silver and gold tore across the sky.

It moved so quickly that Sera barely had time to register it before her hand twitched toward the spear at her back.

She stopped herself.

The blur decelerated sharply above, resolving into a familiar white-haired Foxkin moments before Lyn touched down with barely enough force to disturb the nearby leaves.

Sera blinked.

There was another Foxkin in her arms.

The girl was all red and gold beside Lyn’s silvery white, her face pale and her tail expanded to nearly twice its usual size. Both hands clung to one of Lyn’s arms with enough force to turn her knuckles pale.

Lyn set her carefully on the ground.

The unfamiliar Foxkin remained frozen for another second before turning toward her with a pout.

“That was mean, Lyn. At least warn me!”

Lyn’s tail swished with poorly concealed amusement.

“My apologies, Avelyn. I believed you would appreciate meeting Sera at last.”

Avelyn gasped.

Her head snapped toward Sera, excitement immediately replacing the lingering shock on her face.

Then she noticed Sera’s condition.

Her expression changed.

Before Sera could speak, Avelyn snapped her fingers.

Golden mana erupted outward in a warm wave.

Sera tensed, one hand closing around the shaft of her spear, but the magic reached her before she could draw it. Light passed over her skin and clothing, carrying away dirt and dried blood as the remaining cuts began to knit shut.

The ache in her ribs eased.

Warmth settled through her body.

Sera slowly released her spear.

“Avelyn,” Lyn said, “even if you have learned to perform the technique without your staff, standard procedure would still involve requesting permission.”

Avelyn’s ears lowered.

“Sorry. I just really wanted to try the manipulation technique, and she was hurt.”

Sera studied her for a moment.

That explanation sounded sincere.

She activated Inspect.

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Sanctified Luminary [Epic] (Level 66 | Tier 2)

Race: Hallowed Foxkin

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Sera’s eyes widened slightly.

A Tier Two healer. An Epic one.

Lyn had apparently been busy.

Movement drew Sera’s attention back toward her.

Lyn approached with a faint smile, withdrawing a large cloak from her spatial storage as she did. She held it out without commenting on the torn tunic.

Sera hesitated for only a moment before accepting it.

The cloak settled around her shoulders and concealed the worst of the damage.

Its hem dragged across the ground.

Lyn’s tail swished in amusement.

Sera gave her a long side-eye.

Lyn’s expression remained perfectly composed.

Sera sighed and accepted the oversized cloak for what it was.

“You came back,” she said.

“Correct. And you...” Lyn’s gaze moved over her, lingering briefly on the bone spear and what Sera assumed was a system Inspect. “...have become significantly stronger.”

Warmth settled in Sera’s chest.

“Thanks to you.”

Lyn shrugged.

“I provided some assistance. Your effort is what brought you to this level, is it not?”

Sera looked at her.

Lyn had handed her dragon meat, changed the direction of her future, and apparently had waited for her to return.

Calling that "some assistance" seemed inaccurate.

Correcting her would probably take too long.

Lyn stretched lightly before turning toward the distant village.

“Well, shall we be off?” She glanced back over her shoulder. “My adventuring party has been looking forward to meeting its newest member.”

Lyn paused, one ear angling slightly to the side.

“Assuming that remains your intention, of course.”

Avelyn moved to Lyn’s side, practically vibrating in excitement as she looked between them. Her tail had resumed swishing with enough enthusiasm to threaten the surrounding vegetation.

Sera’s chest grew warmer.

Joining them meant adventuring.

It meant traveling with people she had never met, fighting threats far beyond anything in that dungeon, and attempting to find a place in a group that had already formed without her.

That was dangerous.

Not impossible.

“Okay.”

Lyn’s ears perked.

Only slightly.

Sera noticed anyway.

She walked forward and took her place beside Lyn as they started toward the village, Avelyn immediately joining them on the other side.

The last time Sera had seen Lyn, she had watched the small Foxkin’s back and wondered if she would disappear beyond Sera’s reach.

This time, Sera walked beside her.

She had become strong enough to earn that place.

At least, that was what she had believed she needed to do.

Apparently she had been wrong.

Lyn glanced toward her, tail moving in one slow, contented sweep.

Sera smiled.

Just a little.