Foxkin of the Night Sky

Morning sunlight spills across the orchards beyond the village walls, catching on dew-laden leaves and turning the winding rows of berry bushes into bands of green, red, and silver.

A cool breeze moves through the branches, carrying the sweet scent of ripe fruit, damp soil, and flowering trees. Somewhere farther out among the orchards, a slime releases a long, warbling call, answered a few moments later by a tree branch as it is violently clubbed to death by one of the farmers.

Avelyn reaches into a nearby bush as we walk and liberates a berry.

A clear violation of agricultural boundaries.

I consider pointing this out, only to decide against it.

I am, after all, the most beautiful and magnanimous creature in the universe. Overlooking petty crimes such as strawberry theft is merely one of my many generous qualities.

My tail flicks haughtily.

Then I eat the blueberry that has somehow manifested in my hand under highly suspicious circumstances.

Tasty.

I glance toward the newly returned Catkin currently drowning in Aurelion’s cloak beside me.

Sera stares at the nearby berries with an almost heroic level of intensity before shaking her head slightly.

Her ears droop.

I blink.

Ah.

I understand.

After searching through my spatial storage for a moment, I withdraw two precooked skewers of Twin-Hearted Grove Stag meat and a filled water canteen, then offer them to her.

Her ears immediately return to life, perking excitedly as they lock onto the food and drink.

Her expression is considerably less cooperative.

She accepts them without hesitation.

“Thanks.”

I nod.

Sera begins eating and drinking with the single-minded determination of a Labrador disposing of evidence while its owner is still shouting the first syllable of “drop it.”

My tail gives a small, dignified flick, and we continue toward the village walls while she eradicates the food.

A proper meal will have to wait until we reach an actual table.

I already have something special prepared for dinner.

It was somewhat difficult to make, but we have spent approximately four days waiting for Sera in the beginner village. This left me with plenty of time for cooking between helping the party develop their manipulation techniques and occasionally venturing into the forest to destroy a perfectly peaceful section of it while testing Starlit Pas de Deux.

The result is an entire collection of precooked dishes resting within my spatial storage, awaiting the privilege of gracing the mouths of my party and the humblest culinary genius in the world.

An enviable fate, I am sure.

Speaking of manipulation techniques…

I glance sideways at Avelyn, who is currently attempting to discreetly liberate a particularly succulent elderberry from a nearby bush.

Her efforts at stealth are compromised somewhat by the bright red and gold tail swishing behind her.

The party’s progress has been fairly explosive over the past four days, despite our gaining precisely zero experience.

Avelyn, in particular, has advanced her manipulation abilities at a frankly unreasonable rate. Now that the potential of direct manipulation has been graciously revealed to her, she has learned to use raw Holy mana to heal at range, as well as release it in an area around herself by adapting the wave she normally uses for Purify.

She discovered the ranged variation first.

The area-wide heal followed less than a day later.

The Foxkin continues to demonstrate a deeply suspicious affinity for Holy manipulation, as though the Aspect itself has decided that ordinary limitations are beneath her.

Avelyn plucks the elderberry and pops it into her mouth.

She notices me watching.

I say nothing.

She smiles innocently.

Criminal.

Sylrae has successfully recreated my gravitational rails, although hers remain weaker than mine.

Understandable.

Perfection is rarely achieved on the first attempt, particularly when someone is attempting to imitate me.

The technique is even more useful for her than it is for a ground-based fighter. A gravity rail can dramatically increase her acceleration and top speed, while allowing her to reinforce the trajectory created by her existing movement skill with a second layer of manipulated gravity.

Watching her test the combined version was enlightening.

She disappeared.

Several trees objected.

One of them is unlikely to recover.

The technique does possess a meaningful drawback. A gravity rail can follow a straight line, curve into a new trajectory, or maintain an orbit, but it cannot abruptly decide that the opposite direction has become preferable. Fighting against the current is possible, though doing so rather defeats the purpose of creating it.

If Sylrae commits too heavily, she could find herself unable to evade an attack requiring an immediate change in direction.

Used intelligently, however, it gives her exceptional battlefield mobility and even slightly increases the force behind her attacks.

This means Sylrae has become faster, more dangerous, and potentially even more committed to firing projectiles from locations no reasonable person would consider accessible.

Excellent.

Rin, apparently, had been developing manipulation techniques long before meeting any of us.

His Frostflame Draw Art is not a System skill at all, but a technique passed down through his family alongside the sheathes holding his blades.

He became remarkably unwilling to elaborate after revealing that much. His posture stiffened, his expression closed off, and every answer became increasingly brief.

We collectively decided not to push the subject.

Tragic.

I had at least twelve questions prepared.

Zeke has also made considerable progress, at the minor cost of setting part of the forest on fire.

Accidentally.

Allegedly.

Thankfully, we were far enough from the village that no one noticed, and Rin simply froze the burning section before the situation could progress from experimental mishap to regional concern.

Zeke has successfully adapted my motes into his own techniques. By compressing his Flame Lances, he has reduced their size while increasing the concentration and explosive force of each projectile.

More interestingly, he has learned to preserve part of the spell’s mana as dense burning embers rather than committing everything to the initial explosion. If the lance misses—or even if it does not—the detonation releases a hail of superheated particles around the impact point.

The result is less refined than my Starfire motes.

Naturally.

It is still remarkably effective.

Zeke may, in fact, possess genuine talent for magical control.

A shocking development.

Attempting the same process with Pyroclasm remains mostly theoretical. He believes it is possible, although concentrating a spell of that scale without causing a significantly larger forest fire has proven difficult.

Rin has requested that the next test occur somewhere with less vegetation.

And then there is Marek.

He has struggled with direct manipulation considerably more than anyone else in the party.

This appears to both disappoint and embarrass him, which is honestly somewhat adorable.

There are few sights quite like an eight-foot-tall Bearkin built from enough muscle to intimidate architecture hanging his head because a small pulse of Force mana dispersed three centimeters earlier than intended.

He attempts to conceal his disappointment.

He is not particularly successful.

I see little reason for him to take the difficulty personally. Force is substantially harder to visualize than Fire, Holy, or Gravity. The Aspect is defined by an interaction rather than a tangible substance, leaving him with fewer intuitive structures to manipulate.

More importantly, Marek requires direct manipulation less than any of us.

His existing kit is already remarkably complete. Bulwark allows team-wide magic shielding, his movement skill lets him reposition instantly to protect an ally, Shield Crash and Carnage provide powerful offensive options, and his numerous defensive passives have transformed him into a walking fortress with strong opinions about structural stability.

The only significant addition I can imagine would be a ranged application. Perhaps projecting waves of force similar to those used by the Crystal Tyrant.

Unfortunately, that creates another problem.

Rin and I generally fight beside Marek or directly in front of him. His Dexterity and Perception are insufficient to track either of us reliably at full speed, meaning an indiscriminate force wave could potentially strike an ally.

More specifically, it could strike Rin.

I would evade.

…Probably.

Rin was less reassured by this distinction.

For now, Marek’s efforts have therefore produced several damaged trees, a shallow crater, and the growing suspicion that Force manipulation may be best explored when the rest of us are standing somewhere else.

Unfortunate, but not unexpected.

As for my own testing, it has gone exceptionally well.

Starlit Pas de Deux is, as expected, unbelievably powerful.

The opening movement alone would qualify it as one of the strongest skills in my possession.

Upon marking a target, it grants an immediate burst of acceleration that can take me from a complete standstill to approximately Mach Two so quickly that even I struggle to perceive the transition properly.

One instant, I am stationary.

The next, I am somewhere else, and the surrounding landscape has developed several understandable concerns.

Normally, that degree of acceleration should cause my body to undergo violent internal disassembly. My organs should be attempting and failing to remain where they started, my joints should be lodging formal complaints, and my spine should have developed several strong opinions regarding the continued integrity of my skeleton.

Instead, I feel nothing.

Quite literally nothing.

There is no pressure against my organs or strain in my joints. Even my hair refuses to behave appropriately, swaying as though caught in a pleasant breeze rather than lashing chaotically behind me while I carve through the air at speeds that would make most fighter jets reconsider their career choices.

It is deeply unnatural.

I approve wholeheartedly.

Using the opening movement while already in motion is somehow even more ridiculous. It raises my speed well beyond what I can normally achieve while also dampening the strain created by my existing momentum.

I have no idea how it accomplishes this.

There are likely several fascinating principles involved.

I refuse to question any of them in case the skill realizes what it is doing and becomes embarrassed.

My prediction regarding Horizon Slash was also correct.

The opening movement is not its own attack, specifying that only that my next attack directed toward the marked target is enhanced. This allows me to pair its power and speed with Horizon Slash for maximum damage.

The first test ended poorly for the marked slime.

The slime had not been consulted.

More interestingly, the skill grants me an extremely strange degree of control over my momentum immediately following the opening attack.

Ordinarily, slowing down from my highest speeds requires a combination of gravity, carefully angled movement, and several vines driven into the ground with enough force to cause significant distress to the local soil.

Starlit Pas de Deux allows me to simply…

Stop.

Instantly.

No recoil. No strain. No displaced air violently expressing its dissatisfaction. I do not even transfer enough force into the ground to produce the small-scale explosion that should reasonably accompany the abrupt disappearance of that much momentum.

I arrive, attack, and come to rest as though two thousand points of Dexterity and the basic principles of motion have entered into a private agreement not to inconvenience me.

Highly suspicious.

The closing movement is considerably more complicated.

Further testing will be required.

Mostly because the surrounding forest has produced approximately zero Tier Two monsters over the past four days, and my only sufficiently durable volunteer was Marek.

Admittedly, “volunteer” may be a generous description.

I used a blunted sword constructed from Starlight, targeted his tower shield, and activated the closing movement with only a moderate amount of accumulated momentum.

The impact sent him skidding backward several meters.

His boots carved two trenches through the ground, his shield rang loudly enough to startle birds from trees a considerable distance away, and the expression he directed toward me afterward suggested he had begun reconsidering the experimental process.

The rest of the party promptly decided that I was no longer permitted to test a more heavily charged version on him.

Reasonable.

Marek has also begun standing farther away whenever I say the words “minor experiment.”

Less reasonable.

All in all, an extremely productive four days on the combat-effectiveness front.

In addition to the frankly irresponsible amount of skill testing I managed to accomplish, my extensive cooking endeavors produced another pleasant development.

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[Exotic Cuisine (Rare)]

Draw greater benefits from the preparation of unusual and magically potent ingredients.

(Passive) Dishes capable of granting permanent attribute increases have an increased chance to grant additional stats beyond their normal effect. Successful bonus grants have a small chance to provide an additional attribute point.

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A simple upgrade, but a valuable one.

The chance of receiving bonus attributes has increased, and successful bonuses can apparently produce yet another point on top of that.

Unfortunately, the System has chosen to use the phrase “small chance.”

This does not inspire confidence.

For the moment, Exotic Cuisine remains less of a consistent source of power and more of an occasional culinary lottery ticket, except the ticket is made from monster meat and I have to cook it personally.

Still, once we begin traveling again and I have access to a steady supply of increasingly questionable ingredients, the opportunities should become considerably more frequent.

Tragic limitations aside, progress is progress.

Eventually, the path deposits us near the front gate, where something immediately strikes me as suspicious.

The line is moving efficiently.

I narrow my eyes.

Over the past four days, it has practically become tradition for Thane and the other guard whose name I still have not bothered to learn to become distracted at least once every hour. Sometimes they wrestle. Sometimes one of them becomes trapped in an enthusiastic conversation with someone attempting to enter. Once, Thane abandoned his post for nearly three minutes because he saw an unusually large beetle.

Putting two Dogkin on the same gate with no direct supervision was certainly a bold administrative decision by Arlo.

One he has personally admitted to regretting.

Slightly.

The source of today’s miraculous efficiency becomes obvious almost immediately.

Korr stands behind the pair, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and watching them with the patient menace of a teacher supervising two students who have already eaten the glue once today.

Ah.

Management.

He notices us almost immediately and begins raising one hand in greeting.

Then he sees Sera.

His hand stops halfway.

Sera, meanwhile, pays him no attention whatsoever.

She is occupied with more important matters.

Namely, finishing the third skewer I apparently handed her at some point during my internal reflections.

...Suspicious.

I look down at my hand.

Empty.

Then at Sera.

Skewer.

Apparently, my basic motor functions have now joined my ears, tail, and vines in operating independently whenever they deem my conscious involvement unnecessary.

The conspiracy grows.

Rude.

I am still considering potential disciplinary measures for my increasingly autonomous anatomy when Korr approaches.

His eyes move briefly over Sera, taking in the oversized cloak, the bone spear across her back, and what I assume is a system Inspect.

“Well, damn.” He gives an approving nod. “You got strong fast.”

Sera nods once.

“I did.”

“How was the dungeon?”

“Dangerous.”

Korr waits for elaboration.

None arrives.

“Anything interesting in there?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

Korr seems to realize what kind of conversation he has volunteered for.

I leave them to it.

There are more pressing concerns. Specifically: a particularly magnificent strawberry hangs from a bush beside the road.

Bright red. Perfectly ripe.

Entirely unattended.

One of my vines begins creeping toward it.

Slowly. Quietly.

With the subtle professionalism of an experienced criminal who has absolutely done this before.

The vine reaches the strawberry and coils around it, completely concealing the target from view.

I maintain an expression of perfect innocence.

Avelyn glances toward me.

I glance forward.

Nothing is occurring.

After allowing enough time to establish plausible deniability, the vine retreats toward my side.

It uncoils.

My prize is revealed.

Avelyn steals it.

I stare at my now-empty vine.

She takes a bite.

Her tail swishes behind her as she gives me a smile so innocent that it would almost be convincing were the evidence not currently between her teeth.

I smile back.

The vine continues uncoiling, and a second strawberry emerges from within.

Larger. Redder. Superior in every measurable way.

Avelyn’s expression falls.

I take a bite.

Undefeated.

As I should be.

Korr glances toward us in the middle of whatever question he is currently attempting to extract an answer to from Sera.

His eyes settle on the berry.

Then the vine.

Then me.

He turns back to Sera without saying a word.

A remarkable display of survival instinct.

After several minutes of trying—and failing—to extract anything longer than three words from Sera, Korr finally gives up.

Then he notices something I myself discovered approximately two minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago.

The line has stopped moving.

Again.

Apparently, five unsupervised minutes were sufficient for the guards to become distracted, in much the same way four warehouse employees require approximately eleven seconds to discover whether a pallet jack can transport three of them simultaneously.

Unfortunate.

Especially because the equivalent of two mildly terrifying supervisors are currently standing within a few meters of me, staring toward the gate with the unmistakable menace of a librarian discovering two grown adults fencing with rolled-up magazines in the nonfiction section.

Korr’s expression falls.

He sighs.

Sera remains completely expressionless.

Her ears flatten.

Somehow, this is considerably worse.

Without exchanging a word, the two begin walking toward the source of the delay.

Avelyn and I follow, our tails swishing with suspiciously similar levels of enthusiasm.

I suspect something entertaining is about to occur.

Thane and the other guard remain oblivious.

They are currently rolling through the dirt and grass, the still-nameless Dogkin having secured Thane in a particularly impressive chokehold.

A playful one, naturally.

They are not actually attempting to kill each other.

...Probably.

A small audience has gathered around them. Mostly Dogkin, although one Foxkin has apparently abandoned all species-based expectations of dignity and is loudly encouraging Thane to bite him.

Concerning.

Neither combatant notices Korr and Sera slipping silently through the circle.

Thane finally manages to reverse the hold, hooks one leg beneath his opponent, and sends both of them barrel-rolling toward the edge of the spectators.

They come to an abrupt stop against a pair of boots.

Thane slowly looks up.

The other Dogkin follows his gaze.

Korr stands above them with his arms crossed.

Sera stands beside him.

Neither is smiling.

The two guards freeze.

Their ears lower in perfect synchronization.

Thane’s tail, previously wagging with enough force to generate a modest breeze, goes completely still.

“Ah,” he says.

The nameless guard swallows.

“Hello.”

Korr says nothing.

Sera says nothing.

A truly impressive amount of communication occurs anyway.

Several members of the audience quietly begin leaving. The Foxkin who had been advocating for biting disappears with particular efficiency.

My tail gives another delighted swish.

Thane looks toward the gate. Then toward the abandoned line. Then back toward Korr and Sera.

His expression acquires the distant resignation of a man who has just remembered several extremely relevant clauses in his employment contract.

“...We can explain.”

Sera tilts her head.

“Can you?”

Silence.

Thane considers this.

“No.”

Korr closes his eyes.

I smile.

Retribution is often both swift and unexpected. Sometimes it also has excellent comedic timing.

Tragic.