"Is she going to sleep like that the entire time?" Grandenzil said this as she entered her office, her boots clicking against the wooden floor more sharply than usual. Her tone was already filled with irritation, although she felt no surprise at the situation.
Kayda and I were seated together on one of the couches, her lap serving as my pillow, while Wendie and Sammy sat across from us on the other couch. They both had food on the table in front of them—bread, jerky, a few fruits—and their eyes kept shifting back to me. I was sprawled out comfortably, ears twitching faintly, pretending to doze while casually swiping bits of their food every time they got distracted.
Something like that might have happened once or twice already, but I was confident they hadn't noticed. Or maybe they noticed and were too polite—or too intimidated—to say anything. Either way, the bread in my hand was proof I was winning.
"What do you mean, Grandenzil?" Kayda asked, tilting her head just enough to acknowledge her. Her fingers continued stroking through my hair as if I were some spoiled pet fox, though the look in her eyes was far too calm to match the situation.
"The damn fox on your lap," Grandenzil snapped, her arms crossing as she glared at me. "Isn't she going to participate in the conversation?"
"I'm listening," I said without moving, my voice muffled by the folds of Kayda's robe. "So you can go on."
"She didn't even open her eyes," Sammy muttered, amusement slipping into her voice. She gave a small chuckle, shaking her head at my audacity.
"Sigh, whatever," Grandenzil muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can someone at least just tell me everything that happened tonight?"
"I guess I will start," Kayda said, her tone unhurried, as though she were explaining something trivial rather than recounting an ambush. "Now, you probably already know that Nova can destroy these demon rock pillars with her magic."
"Yes, she used lightning magic," Wendie said with a slight nod, her eyes narrowing with thought.
"Well, we decided to destroy all of them," Kayda continued, the casual tone making everyone else stiffen slightly in surprise.
"Why?" Grandenzil asked quickly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "If I recall correctly, you, Kayda, don't actually like the church. So why are you helping them?" Her stare sharpened, skeptical.
Kayda gave her a level look. "Personal reasons. Anyway, we headed to the church only to see them still on high alert because of this. I am fairly certain you can guess what happened afterward."
"Yeah," Grandenzil said, leaning against the desk with folded arms. "You distracted them so the fox could sneak to the pillar. After she destroyed it, she ran into those damn devil cultists. You tried to help but were also stopped by them. Actually, it was more like you were the main target, seeing the number of people who attacked you."
At that, my ears twitched reflexively.
"Yeah, the fuckers tried to suicide bomb me," Kayda said flatly, her tone laced with a growl.
"...hmm, so they even tried to kamikaze you?" I suddenly spoke up, finally breaking my long silence. The detached tone I used made the room go cold for a second, everyone shuddering slightly except for Kayda, who simply kept petting my head as if nothing was amiss.
"Hmm, yeah. That's how I got all that blood on me," Kayda said, shrugging lightly. Her fingers still stroked through my hair in the same rhythm, as if my sharp comment hadn't fazed her.
"Sammy," I said suddenly, eyes still shut, "I hope you are in for more torture training?" My words were casual, but my tail flicked once, betraying the edge in them.
"Hmm, I see no problem," Sammy answered evenly, her eyes narrowing. "However… are you going to join in?" Her head inclined, voice half-challenging.
"No. I'll only tell you how, and that's all. I think I've seen enough blood for the week," I said calmly. The admission seemed to throw the room off-balance; everyone turned to look at me, surprised at the hint of restraint.
"I see. "That means more fun for me, then," Sammy said with a grin, although her smile appeared sharper than usual.
"Are you okay?" Kayda whispered softly, leaning down so her voice brushed only against my ear.
"I'm thinking," I murmured back. With that, I sat up at last, stretching briefly before glancing at Grandenzil. "Hey, Grandenzil, is there anywhere I can get some shut-eye?"
"Down the hall, go left, then right; the third door on your left is a guest room," Grandenzil said with a dismissive wave, not sparing much attention.
"Thanks. And here, Sammy," I said, taking out a small leather-bound book from my storage and dropping it on the table with a solid thump.
Sammy picked it up immediately. "What is this?" she asked, flipping it open.
"Notes," I said simply. "Now, if you'll excuse me." Without waiting for a reply, I walked out of the room.
My body ached with every step, fire licking through my veins. 'My body feels like it's on fire. Is this really the negative effect of Wrath? I understand now why Mom said never to use it, but why did it activate?' I thought, jaw tightening as I followed Grandenzil's directions.
"Maybe it was emotions," I muttered under my breath as I turned down the hallway. "I know I got angry for being described as a dog, but was that enough?"
Blood didn't bother me. Killing intent didn't push me over the edge. Even killing itself—I'd already tasted that madness once with the Federation soldiers. 'No, it wasn't that. Emotions… it must have been emotions. The first time I experienced strong emotions was when Mom was almost dying. But today? Who was it for? Was it irritation or real anger?'
I found the door and pushed it open. The room was simple—a bed, a desk, and a candle on the nightstand. Nothing flashy, just enough for a guest to rest.
"Sigh, this is so irritating," I muttered, throwing myself onto the bed with an exaggerated flop.
The ceiling above was plain wood, but staring at it made my thoughts pour out. "I know I have a personality problem," I said aloud, letting my voice echo softly. "Well, obviously. I've got multiple ones. But is that really a problem? One is fun, another serious, and then there's the crazy one that loves torture and blood. What's wrong with having them? Oh, right… then there's the full Wrath personality. That almost came out today." My lips curled into a faint, grim smile. "Sigh. Good luck to anyone who witnesses it in the future."
I exhaled long, then said, "Anyway, let's move on to something more interesting." With a focused thought, I cast the analysis spell on myself.
The floating words filled my vision like a screen.
Name: Kitsuna Draig (Shiro Adachi)
Age: 14 (Immortal)
Race: Primordial 1-Tail Demon Fox
Bloodline: Primordial 9-Tail Fox
Gender: Female
Level: 40
Class: Unknown (Wrath)
HP: 2800/2800
MP: 10,000/10,000
Str: 1500
Vit: 1400
Def: 1000
Int: 5000
End: 2800
Agt: 3200
Skills: Dimension storage, Demon Fire, Demon Lightning, Fox Ice, Analysis, Super Regen, short-distance teleport, Sword domain, and Mana sense. Fox Golden Lightning, Fox Golden Fire, Healing
Passive: Heightened senses, eyes of intimidation, human form, night vision
Tail Abilities: LOCKED
"...What!?" I shouted, bolting upright. My ears flattened, tail puffed with shock. "Illusions! "There must be someone using an illusion on me."
I scanned the room, releasing all my killing intent in a wave. The air thickened, the candle flame bent sideways, and the wood creaked under the oppressive weight. No hidden presence stirred.
"...Guess not," I muttered finally, sighing as I dragged my hands through my hair.
"This really doesn't make sense. How did my stats go up so much all of a sudden?" I lay back down, staring at my hands as I flexed them. My claws gleamed faintly in the low light.
"Hmm, shouldn't they be lower, considering the state my body's in? Or… are they already lowered, and these aren't even my true stats?" My thoughts tangled into knots.
Mom had once told me—and I'd read the same in old manuals—that when your body was damaged, your stats should reflect that, dropping until recovery. So why was I so much stronger? Could the pain be something else entirely? A backlash? A hidden trigger?
Before I could untangle it, my nose caught a familiar scent—perfume, faint but distinct. Footsteps drew near.
Knock, knock.
"Grandenzil, I am busy. What do you want?" I called, sitting up.
"I guess I can come in," Grandenzil said, ignoring me while she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"...," I stared at her blankly.
"What? It's not really like you're doing anything," she said with a shrug, closing the door behind her. "You're just lying on the bed."
"Grandenzil, what are you here for?" I asked, voice sharpening.
"I want to know why."
"Elaborate, please," I said, brow arched.
She folded her arms. "Why are you trying to help us?"
"Help?" I chuckled darkly, a smirk tugging my lips. "Ha-ha, I think you misunderstand something. I am not helping you. I am making you into something useful."
Her eyes narrowed. "Even if you say it like that, a bandit group is already very useful."
"No, they are not," I shot back immediately. My tone hardened. "A bandit group is just a mosh pit of outcasts who only want to take instead of working for anything."
"That's a lie," Grandenzil argued, her jaw tightening. "They are working their asses off."
"Yeah, sure. "They are engaged in robbing people," I said sarcastically, my tail flicking.
"And they need to work to make that happen," she countered stubbornly.
"Sigh, Grandenzil. I'm surprised you haven't destroyed this bandit group with that kind of thinking," I said, laughing humorlessly.
Her brows furrowed. "What?"
"How long does it take to ransack a mansion?"
"It depends on the size," she answered cautiously, clearly unsure of where I was going.
"The Anabald territory mansion," I pressed.
She thought, then said, "About four hours."
"Okay, longer than I expected. Now… how long did it take the Anabald family to amass all that wealth? Legally, of course. Building up what you can steal in four hours." I leaned forward, my eyes glinting.
Her face paled slightly as realization hit. "...Decades. Maybe a hundred years."
"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Her lips pressed into a line. "You only see us as bandits, don't you?"
"You are fucking bandits," I snapped, my voice cracking like a whip. "Bandits are useless. A plague on humans and any other race. They would rather not work for what they have. They just want to take what they shouldn't have."
She was silent, glaring at me with a mixture of frustration and grudging recognition.
"Now you already know I haven't put a bomb in your daughter. Does anyone else know?" I asked, shifting the subject sharply.
"No. I wanted to understand your motive before proceeding.
"You know the Black Ops?"
"Yes."
"I want to make another one like that. But this one will be more laid-back about recruitment, and it'll move without the king's eyes on it. You already have the structure. A strong base. But you can't have the word "bandit" in your name. And you can't keep doing bandit shit."
"So you want to make us look like a hero group or something?" she asked skeptically.
"What the fuck is a hero group?" I asked, genuinely confused, staring at her.
She waved it off. "Guess not."
"No. You're going to look like a mercenary group. Mercenaries already deal on the black market. No one questions them even if they're in the public eye."
"I see," she said, biting her lip. "I'll need to think about it."
"You don't have an option," I said flatly.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Grandenzil, you already know—we could've wiped you out if we wanted. We didn't, because we don't care about just bandits. But you? You own orphanages. That makes you different. That makes you matter. And that means we can't just leave you alone anymore."
She flinched slightly, then frowned. "...That makes sense. But what are you going to do to change this?"
"You are going to change it," I said, standing, my voice firm. "Kayda will draft the plan. You'll execute it."
"What if they use my weakness?" she asked quietly.
"All your weaknesses will go to the Draig mansion in the capital. And you'll join the Crazy Squad."
"...Crazy Squad? Really? I'm pretty sure they aren't actually crazy."
"The squad is. "That's why they are called that," I said, nodding with finality.
Grandenzil sighed, muttered under her breath, then growled one word. "...fuck."