The Foxes' First Clash
The global upheaval had thrown everyone into chaos, yet in truth it was hardly the crisis it seemed.
It was simply one more broadcast added to the endless lineup of channels we all watched, like flipping on an extra station during a movie.
Or was it? A being claiming to be a demon had shown up with technology that defied every earthly understanding—alien-level tech, the kind you’d expect from an extraterrestrial visitor.
How could something that turned on and off at the whim of anyone’s mind actually exist in reality?
The girl who called herself the Demon was bound to shake the foundations of everyone’s faith as well.
South Korea’s government and military crisis response had been average at best.
But as a unified nation, we still had the anti-terrorism manual in place.
That’s why the special counter-terrorism unit dispatched to Stargate Co. took exactly thirty minutes.
Why a game company of all places?
The A-team didn’t matter. The B-team members were all Starfall’s top-ranked players, and their avatars had literally transformed into fantasy characters that the internet had been flooded with.
Investigating the game company had been the obvious first step.
Thirty minutes sounded short, yet it was long enough for multiple events to unfold and conclude. For the Korean military, it was actually fast response.
However, when the special forces burst into the company building, they were instantly ensnared by tentacles and neutralized in seconds.
The Demon walked out of the building and smiled at the people.
“I was completely off the mark. The game and I have nothing to do with each other. But since we must protect the participants’ privacy, I’ll erase all personal information.”
Korea is a high-surveillance society.
People born and raised here might not understand, but adults are expected to report their fingerprints, addresses, and every movement to the state; lie and you face serious penalties.
Naturally, the higher-ups in this incident were already trying to secure the full background on Team B—family, residence, daily life.
But the Demon had already wiped every file.
By the time the Demon left and the investigation team arrived at Stargate Co., all that remained were broken equipment.
The data was gone; the game server was permanently offline. Developers, operators, and players’ lives were ruined, but it was hardly the main story, so we’ll set that aside.
* * * * *
Team B, who had had enough time to assess the situation, pushed into the forest.
The A-team had already left, but Tarte had insisted they couldn’t waste time waiting, and everyone agreed.
*This is the Demon’s game; there’s no way there’s a defeat penalty.*
Tarte didn’t care whether the world changed or not.
But if she’d just stood there frozen at the starting point, she never would have imagined a good ending waiting for them.
“The Tower isn’t just one building. It’s a collection of countless trials. Starfall had them too, right?”
The party’s mage, Daepokpal—who was level 1 with no skills at all, basically just a luggage carrier—started listing off his web-novel knowledge.
He was the kind of guy who enjoyed subculture alongside games: novels, comics, the whole package.
“So now we fight monsters?”
Hyeolpung Geomseong’s answer was drowned out by the rustling in the forest.
“Everyone, prepare to fight!”
Tarte shouted, then thought.
*Prepare to fight? What exactly does that mean?*
I’m a level-1 priest with no skills?
At the very least Daepokpal had a staff.
Muraebae carried a dagger.
Geomseong had a proper longsword.
But the only equipment the priest was given was a thick holy scripture.
Tarte and her companions stood awkwardly holding the scripture like a weapon instead of a sword. In front of them the rustling resolved into a red fox.
Slightly larger than a common house cat, smaller than a big dog—medium size.
*What? Just a fox.*
Hyeolpung Geomseong relaxed the moment he saw it was a normal animal.
That was his mistake.
“Kyaaah!”
Geomseong was a warrior in armor.
But the armor was starter leather—clumsy and barely covering his torso.
It would stop clumsy sword swings or arrows, but it offered no protection against a proper bite.
The fox’s jaws were far too strong for a regular animal.
*It’s trying to kill us.*
Muraebae fired a cold line and lunged at the fox, then hesitated and just punched.
She should have slit its throat with the dagger.
The hesitation of a modern person who’d never killed anything was unmistakable.
** ** **
The chat window looked completely out of place amid the blood-soaked reality.
The few people who took the situation seriously stayed silent, making the chat even weirder.
*Just how well-bred do these kids have to be?*
Tarte wasn’t in any position to talk either.
The largest living thing she’d killed was a spider—too small to leave in the house, so she’d crushed it.
Compared to that fox, this thing was massive.
Warm-blooded creature.
But these were their enemies.
“Judgment of Knowledge!”
Obviously a weapon is better than fists.
She only had one weapon given to her.
She brought down the fox with the thick holy scripture.
It wasn’t a sharpened blade, so one hit wouldn’t kill it.
She kept attacking.
One hit wasn’t enough? Two. Two still wasn’t enough? Three.
The fox was pitiful enough; protecting the party and survival was the priority.
“Haa…”
** ** ** **
This didn’t look like a reality show at all.
A pointless hypothesis flashed through Tarte’s mind and vanished.
With this scale, this ridiculous technology, and this absurd topic—why would there be a reality show?
“Kyaaah!”
The red fox wasn’t alone.
Six more foxes charged in.
“Assign one each!”
The foxes weren’t especially threatening.
We had armed, muscular warriors, a rogue, and a mage with a long staff.
Yet the priest in cheap robes holding only a scripture felt the need to move the most.
After the battle with the seven foxes ended.
Tarte—the priest—had taken six lives.
One had been taken by Daepokpal with his staff.
The warrior and rogue who were supposed to be the core of the party had zero kills, a flashy record of doing nothing except wasting time.
But they hadn’t done nothing; at least they kept the fight going.
Still, the performance was clearly less than one person.
** ** ** **
“Don’t underestimate someone else’s problem. You’ve never fought before; it’s normal.”
Tarte snapped at the chat window.
Easy to say “watch from the sidelines.”
** ** **
Tarte was a level-1 priest who had somehow earned the nickname “saintess.”
“So Tarte-nim has actual battle experience?”
Daepokpal, the only one with a kill to his name, asked.
“No.”
Daepokpal’s confused face said it all.
*He was boasting like he’d fought, then admits it’s his first time too.*
“Must have talent.”
“Whether you have talent or not, you do what you can.”
Tarte thought.
*If I don’t have talent for fighting, I’ll just get bitten by a fox and die?*
They weren’t five-year-olds. They were adults.
With weapons.
But scolding the party wouldn’t help.
Since they were all in the same boat, she had to support them as best she could.
Tarte’s eyes caught on Geomseong grimacing in pain.
*Nickname sounds cool, but…*
He was limping from the bite on his leg.
*Healing. Time for the priest to shine.*
Judgment of Knowledge
The thick holy scripture swung down once, twice, three times.
The fox’s body crumpled with each impact.
Tarte’s halo glowed faintly, and a soft golden light washed over Geomseong, knitting the torn flesh.
“Better?”
She asked, voice soft but steady.
Geomseong nodded, breathing a little easier.
“Whew… thanks.”
Daepokpal wiped sweat from his brow, staff still raised.
“Next time we’ll use proper spells.”
Tarte smiled.
“Until then, we keep moving.”
The fox pack lay dead behind them.
The real battle had only just begun.