Even Foxes Are Canines

Having bought fresh gear in Lucifen, Yeon and I headed back into the forest. Not the outskirts this time, where nothing but rabbits hopped about — we were going deeper.

The monsters that spawned from here on were nothing like those rabbits, which never struck first. These ones would charge the instant they registered a player.

And the first of them we'd meet was a creature known among veterans as the Newbie Slayer: the Blade Squirrel.

We'd prepared for that, though. The sturdy chainmail draped over Yeon's body was our insurance.

That's right — not Ogle's Masterpiece. Just ordinary chainmail.

Yeon had turned down Ogle's offer.

"I'm sorry. I don't think I can do that."

"And why's that? Twenty fox pelts in place of ten thousand gold — that's a bargain, if you ask me…"

"I think so too. I still can't, though."

"Watching me hurt her own kind… I'm sure Choco wouldn't like that."

That was how Yeon had answered him.

It was almost funny. Those damn foxes — I could have killed a handful or a few dozen and it wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest.

I hadn't been a fox to begin with. I'd been human, and I'd simply opened my eyes in this body. As if I was going to feel some kind of kinship or racial solidarity with other foxes.

And if a hunt ever came down to it, I'd be the one leaping ahead of Yeon to make the kill anyway.

Not that any of those reasons even mattered. The moment I'd been tamed by Yeon, I'd become a completely different species from the foxes that existed as monsters. Even if I really were a fox, there was no reason to feel guilty about it.

Not that running through the argument a hundred times in my head was going to change anything.

Aigoo. I let out a quiet sigh behind Yeon's back as she walked ahead.

The one stroke of luck was that Ogle had said he'd still sell us the set if we just scraped the gold together. Neither of us was a high enough level to take on a boss monster yet, so all we had to do was grind hard starting now.

Pick every recovery herb we came across, harvest Blade Squirrel claws, extract poison sacs from forest snakes… I was laying out the plan in my head when I noticed Yeon had stopped walking.

I was still wondering why when a faint rustle whispered through the leaves. Ssshk.

It was the kind of sound an ordinary person would have written off as a breeze. But my hearing had sharpened the moment I'd become a fox, and I could tell the difference with perfect clarity.

That wasn't wind. That was a Blade Squirrel moving along a tree branch.

And not one of them — two. No, three? I craned my neck toward the sound and caught a glimpse of small silhouettes shifting through the canopy.

My eyes met one of them. Its gaze was bright and round, like light caught in a black pearl, and it looked almost painfully innocent.

The killing intent flooded into those eyes in a single heartbeat.

The sound of its leap was no louder than an acorn hitting the dirt. It kicked off the branch, unfurled the membranes between its limbs, and those claws — sharp enough to slice human skin like paper — flashed into view.

The speed of its dive toward Yeon was brutal. If we hadn't spotted it, that would have been the end of her.

But once it was in sight, it wasn't a threat at all.

I crouched, coiled, ready to spring —

And a dagger, already swinging faster than I could move, split the incoming Blade Squirrel clean in two. Carried by its own momentum, the bisected creature slammed into the ground without ever climbing again, then bled into gray light and vanished.

"That startled me…"

The one who'd actually done it said nothing more than that. She did press a hand to her chest as if she'd been genuinely surprised, but it didn't look genuine at all.

Of course it didn't. Yeon had noticed the Blade Squirrel before I had.

How did she even know? You could argue she'd been able to react because, unlike other newbies, she'd already been told about Blade Squirrels — but that wasn't the point.

Yeon had clearly known one was nearby. And she'd known it before I had, even with my enhanced hearing.

Granted, I'd been lost in thought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and missed the first cue. Even accounting for that, it was impressive.

She's really not ordinary. I looked at Yeon, then tipped my head back toward the canopy to track the remaining squirrels.

Two left. Unlike the first one, they still hadn't shown themselves.

Ssshk — leaves whispering again — and then a tiny tok, barely audible. I snapped my head toward the sound and lunged.

The instant my hind legs drove me upward, the Blade Squirrel diving straight at me snapped into focus.

Blade Squirrels attacked with blistering mobility and claws that could shear through almost anything. The tradeoff was that they were helpless against a frontal assault.

To glide, they had to stretch all four limbs out to the sides, and their claws grew in that same direction.

Which meant a fox charging them head-on with its jaws wide open was something they simply could not deal with.

A wet crunch, a brief fluttering against my tongue, and then the movement stopped.

I spat it out and whipped my head toward Yeon. A sharp clang rang out, sparks flying.

"Agh!"

This time she hadn't reacted in time. She clutched her struck shoulder and stumbled back. Fortunately the chainmail had taken the hit — a jolt of impact, nothing more. Her health barely seemed to dip.

The Blade Squirrel that had bounced off the mail, on the other hand, couldn't make it back up the tree. It lay sprawled on the ground, letting out a rather pitiful kiiik. I didn't hesitate. I barreled in and crushed its skull in my jaws.

"Did you get it?"

"Kyang."

I gave a short bark in answer. The Blade Squirrel faded to gray, leaving behind a single crescent-shaped claw.

I picked it up in my mouth and carried it over to Yeon. She smiled immediately and crouched down.

"Thanks. You brought that for me, right?"

I had, technically. That didn't mean I was going to hand it over without conditions. I ignored the hand she held out for the claw and started scratching letters into the dirt.

Weapon.

"Weapon? Oh — you mean Ogle's Masterpiece Set?"

"Kyang!"

"Hmm… ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you're upset that I turned down his offer, aren't you?"

I nodded so hard my whole head bobbed. It felt like we were playing an untimely game of twenty questions, but I went right back to writing.

Fox. Hunt.

"Fox and hunt… that's, um… ah. That's what I said when I turned Ogle down. That I didn't want to hurt them because they're the same as you. Right?"

"Kyang!"

"But why would you… oh."

She must have figured out what I was trying to say. Yeon hesitated for a moment, then spoke carefully.

"The truth is, even if you hadn't become my pet, I still wouldn't have hunted foxes."

"Kyang?"

"I like dogs, you see."

I stared at her, incredulous, at this completely unprompted confession. Yeon, however, looked entirely serious.

"Foxes are canines too, aren't they?"

That was the last straw. I stretched my jaws wide and bit down on her face.

Naturally, it dealt a grand total of zero damage.

After I'd bitten Yeon's face once for good measure, the hunt went smoothly.

A Blade Squirrel's speed and stealth were no match for my hearing, and Yeon's own senses were nothing to scoff at either. At that point, anything that flew at us ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might as well have been volunteering to die.

Wandering the forest and repeating the same cycle of hunting, it didn't take long at all.

Status window. The moment I thought the words, a translucent panel bloomed in front of my eyes.

The leveling was coming along nicely. Factoring in the split experience, it was actually remarkably fast. The herb-gathering quest had done its part, but so had Yeon, throwing herself into the hunt without a single complaint.

Come to think of it — how much time had passed? Back in the old days I could have checked the clock in the settings menu, but unfortunately the status window was the only interface I could still use.

Figuring it out wasn't hard, though.

Al Fantasia cycled into night every twelve hours. The world would stay dark for about four hours, then the sun would rise and light everything up again, over and over.

From the moment I'd woken up in a fox's body, met Yeon, and arrived at this point, the sun had still been in the sky. Twelve hours hadn't passed yet. But three or four hours, at the very least, certainly had.

Why bother tracking the time when I was going to be living in the game anyway? Because of Yeon, obviously.

For me, not being able to log out was a trivial problem. Even before I'd become a fox, I'd been living as a resident of Al Fantasia in all but name. Yeon, on the other hand, was an ordinary player. She had a real life she actually needed to live.

On the face of it, she was clearly a student. Middle school or high school, I couldn't say — but if she was a student, her available playtime wouldn't be very long.

Going by my own experience: if she had evening self-study, she'd be free no earlier than ten at night. Even without it, she'd wrap up around six. Factor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in getting home and eating dinner, and she'd log in around seven or eight. If she needed to get ready for the next day, she'd have four hours in the game at most.

Which meant that outside those four hours, I'd most likely be operating alone. And I'd still be splitting experience with her even while she was logged out — fewer people in the party, higher hunting intensity required. That much was obvious.

My body had already turned into a fox, and now I had to solo-hunt on half experience. Hardcore didn't even begin to cover it.

"Chocooo—"

While I was thinking all that, Yeon had sidled up and melted against me in a limp, clinging hug. She'd gotten so used to grabbing me that she did it the second I left even a sliver of an opening. I'd already given up on stopping her, so I didn't waste the energy. I just let myself be moved around in her hands.

"Choco, Choco, Choco—"

"Kyaaang…"

Why are you suddenly being such a pain? I whined in a thoroughly fed-up voice, but Yeon couldn't have cared less. She mashed her face into my fur.

"Hunting is so boring. Right?"

"Kyang!"

"See? You think so too, don't you?"

Who said I had to think so too, you little— I planted a paw on her face to tell her to knock off the nonsense. She let out a loose, blissful little giggle, as if that were the best thing in the world.

"Chocooo—"

Just log out already. I muttered the words inside my head like a prayer.