The Sword Saint’s Second Life As a Fox Girl - 3-50 Craven

Her breaths stained the air white. She puffed and huffed at a pace that caused her vision to whirl faintly. She gripped her sword with both of her hands and she need not grip it tight. Her hands practically felt frozen stiff to the hilt. She wished the same was true to her posture. It was the opposite of stiff. It was frail and quivering. She was cold and tired, her opponent’s words rang true. Her legs were akin to stone, every bit as stiff and heavy but the sole grace was that she could still move them. Perhaps “moving” would be putting it mildly, she was swinging them as that was the only way they would listen. Her tails, however, were cold but warmer than the rest of her body.

Firstly, she used Mana Harvest to recover her Mana pool. As she did it furtively, the amount she gained wasn’t little but neither could it be considered as much. She had yet to grasp her enemy’s capabilities. She knew his level and the Arcane Arts he had but not his intelligence. One’s wits can be the factor that decides a battle or a fight. Aside from the matter of wits, her exhaustion was brimming. Even if she had recovered her Mana, she was still physically and mentally drained.

She tried calling upon the Spirits’ aid but the silence was her response. She could feel the Spirits’ presence but they all turned a deaf ear to her. She could swear that some of them even scoffed and snorted at her invocation. The Spirits she knew would not bear such discourtesy. These were Spirits but of a different kind, one that did not take kindly to her. She wondered what manner of Spirits these were but her opponent would never allow her to.

“Tenacious and unyielding,” said the heavily-dressed Craven. He took a seat on a frozen boulder. He didn’t wince against the mighty cold surface he placed his rear on. “I heard-tell of your tale. A strange tale. I could scarcely believe it myself. It began in Green Scar and no songs or tales before that. For a person of your skills and character, it’s hard to imagine you only muster attention long after your grown years. It was as if… you do not exist before you made yourself known in Green Scar.”

“Impressive study but… I don’t care.” Erin stretch and winded her stiff neck, loosening the gaps between her bones. “Your knowledge doesn’t intimidate me but please continue. The more words my opponent speaks, the higher the chance of their fall.” And it was a true presumption. She had fallen before an Undead and a serpent beast, both of which had uttered not a single word.

“I was merely giving you a moment to be on terms with your demise but it seems that wouldn’t be necessary.” He tittered. His gaze fell to the ground. He rubbed his hands avariciously. “I’m looking forward to your cries and pleas, Lady Fae.”

The white Serks began to move. They crawled across the deep snow with ease. They were a tad smaller than the Serk she had seen but their red eyes socketed among their white body sent thrills down her spine. It made their bloodthirsts abundantly clear. Snow Serks, they were called.

Erin gently brought her sword low, saving her strength. Even the weight of her weapon had started to feel heavy to her failing strength but nowhere as heavy as a rock. Her eyes swam around her surrounding, counting the numbers and plotting a scheme for each and every Serk. Her strength and magic would be of minimal use to her in her current state. She needed at least one hand to cast a spell but in her current state, she could not wield her sword with a single hand. Tricks were all she could rely on.

A Serk lunged from her right. She kicked the snow to its eyes and threw her blade up, letting the weight draw the arc. The Serk fell on her sides in two halves.

[Experience gained +2% -Level Progression: 27%]

“At least be worth trouble, damn it!” she cursed in her heart. It would truly be much more bearable if the experience offered was a plethora of.

The other Serks saw their fallen brethren and snarled with their rows of sharp fangs bared for Erin to see and in hopes to ruffle her composure but Erin returned a snarl of her own. If she had fangs as sharp as them, she would have also bared them.

She went low and a Serk flew overhead. She stood and pivoted her sword, fending off the Serks circling her. She let her sword fall as the Serk who missed her head returned with another leap. It leapt right into her blade, cleaving itself into clean halves.

[Experience gained +2% – Level Progression: 29%]

She swatted a Serk away and kicked another one to the ground. She caught one with her hand and came close to snapping its neck but she threw it away in favour of her defence. She flung two away whose jaws clamped down on her raised sword. She frightened four away with a graceful but deadly display of her swordsmanship. They trembled before her gaze and her refined dance that brought their deaths. The opportunistic ones crept behind her but they fell to her tails. They were pesky flies to her leery and nigh-sentient tails. She lurched forward and kneed her weight into a Serk. It went tumbling and crashing into its gathering brethren. Before her breaths could be caught, a Serk pounced at her leg. She raised it and stomped down, turning the Serk’s head into mush.

[Experience gained +2% – Level Progression: 31%]

Blood splattered across the vivid snow, dyeing the field red with the colours of life that ironically, and unironically, symbolized death. A painting of a Fox-kin’s desperate attempts at living while the Serks threw themselves to their deaths without a say for their own fate. Erin herself was drenched in the colour of life and death. A glance from above, she would look like the masterstroke of the painting. She plunged her sabre into the snow and poured her weight unto her sword. She breathed fast but steady. Her respite was shorted that the term itself already implied and she wished not to waste a breath on a second.

She swung in a certain direction without any prior hint. An Aura Shot flew out from her edge, rushing towards Craven. However, a translucent shield appeared before him and absorbed the Aura Shot. It was an Arcane Aegis, according to her Appraisal but it looked significantly different than hers in appearance.

“Well fought,” Craven said with a smirking snort. He was clapping slowly and steadily, much like her breath. “Never have I lay eyes on an individual so tenacious and cunning since my chance encounter with the then and young Scarlet Blade.”

“If that’s true, then the fighters of this world disappoint me.” She chuckled. It was wasted breath but she had to. She couldn’t help herself. “In my old world, this amount of tenacity is quite common. Perhaps the richness of magic and the System’s aid had left you all… lazy and artless.”

“Are we?” he jabbed back with a disparaging shrug.

“You’re sitting on a block of ice while your minions, against their will, fight for your sake and vanity. Are you not?”

He guffawed, slapping his belly. It made a hollow sound. “You are everything the reports and rumours say you are. Your ridiculing words played a huge part in your victory streaks, no doubt.”

“I don’t deny,” Erin said, breathing with her hand clutched at her chest. “It works. You all just can’t help it. So eager to prove me wrong.”

“The pride of a Fae and the caprice of an Outworlder, truly a frightening and thrilling combination. The sooner you are rid of this world, the better. You are a blight and a menace to this world, just like the Deities had told me. Don’t give me that look. I’m only doing this for the greater good.”

Erin cackled despite how hard it was for her. “Let us all be honest here.” She reined her sword close to her body and pointed the blade at Craven as if it was her forefinger. “That’s not why you want me dead. I intimidate you. I am better than you. And you know it. I make you all feel small and little and irrelevant. I invalidate everything that is special about you. You are nothing before and beside me. This is why you and your ilk want me gone, not because I’m dangerous to this world. That’s just an excuse to placate your guilt-ridden conscience. Who’s the greater menace? An Outworlder of a Fae with a still blade and mercy aplenty in her heart or a man who fights in the name of his god and glory and for reasons that he himself couldn’t be bothered to verify.”

The serenity in Craven’s face left. The wrinkles of anger and the creases of indignation stained his face. “You’re quite fond of your tongue and your voice.”

“My lovers are quite fond of my tongue and my voice too. They would moan and cry my name for it.”

“As venomous as a viper’s fangs. You are all and more than what I expected. You shall definitely meet your end here.”

“Hit a nerve, did I?”

“My nerves are steel.”

“I cut steel before. With ease too, I dare add.”

“Tear her apart!” Craven shouted.

The Serks shrieked at the command and swarmed Erin in droves. She splayed her sabre out and twirled on a single foot with the sharp edge facing the flesh of the multiple Serks. Her tails spun with her, battering away all the Serks her sword missed. Her mind rumbled with messages from the Systems, informing her like a mother’s nagging of her vast experience accumulation. She offered a glimpse and saw the sharp rose of her progression. It had risen to fourty-five percent. She smiled at her offhanded yet effective trick but it wasn’t everlasting. A Serk read her movements well and timed its own just as well. It ducked under her blade and over her tails. Its fangs found her succulent right leg. She had only just felt the poke of the Serks’ fangs and she was already responding to it. She smashed her foot against the cunning Serk and sent it rolling into its brethren. She heard its neck crack amidst the drowning noises of the Serks squeals and screeches. To affirm her hearing, she was graced with a message.

[Experience gained +2% – Level Progression: 47%]

Her trivial elation lasted briefly as a Serk hopped on her back, steering itself clear of her tails. She grabbed its head before it could sink its teeth into her flesh but another came for her arm. She tossed the Serk behind to the side. Another Serk came for her other arm. She greeted its open mouth with her blade skewering it whole.

[Experience gained +2% – Level Progression: 49%]

She breathed deeply in the fleeting break of the Serks’ relentless assault. The Serks left her no window to cast any spells that could shift the tide. Even if she did have the window to, the tide would just shift right back to her disfavour. When she expelled her breath, the Serks had resumed their feral onslaught. She welcomed them all with a blade eager to meet their necks and heads and sometimes limbs if they were quick in their steps. But her reception would not last forever. It was only her and hundreds of Serks. Her blade would likely dull before their spellbound nature does. She lashed her sword wildly and shouted like a madwoman. Her tails flounder like a dog chasing its tail. The Serks backed away, frightened at her erratic change. Craven eyed her with wonder and confusion. Had she finally lost her mind, he guessed.

Erin bared her dull fangs with a grin when they retreated and formed a gap between them. Craven’s face darkened with disgrace and rage. He shouted the same line he had given the Serks before as Erin’s sabre glowed a clear and vivid violet. She noted the change in her Mystic Blade’s hue but she didn’t question it. She plunged her sword deep into the snow, deeper than she had when she was using her sword to support her weight. The fading glow of violet spread across the field and rippled the air. The mountain trembled like the wails of a hundred distanced infants. The ground beneath them began to cave. The Serks cried and scrambled to safety. Craven shouted for them to stay but none was heeding his words anymore. Red-faced, Craven turned to Erin.

“Have you gone mad?” he shouted. He had a loud voice, surprisingly. “You’ll kill us both!”

“I beg to differ,” Erin said with a smile. “Just you. I’ll die too but it’s you who will remain dead long after minutes and hours passed.”

“What are you blabbering about!?” He looked around, searching for a solid ground to stay on but all were out of range, too far for his short legs to bring him to safety. “You are mad! You are mad! You should face your death alone and with dignity. Your Divine will frown upon you for this. He will be furious for this dishonourable duel when you ascend to meet him.”

“Quite the contrary, whatever your name is. She will be delighted and most probably smiling from ear to ear right now.” Erin tore her sword out of the snow, ripping the ground with her blade. That was the final stroke and the ground stopped shaking.

A look of relief crossed Craven’s face but shifted into despair as the feeling below his feet turned hollow. He felt nothing beneath him. He looked down and found himself falling into a deep abyss that swallowed all the lights that poured into the darkness. He looked across. Erin had her eyes close with a smile touching her triumphant face. She feared not her death. She made no attempts to cover herself in spells to ease the fall. She had her arms and tails spread apart, welcoming her dashing descent.

“You really are mad….” Craven muttered. He knew quite an array of spells but none that could help him in a fall, especially of such heights. Regardless, he began chanting all of them, hoping that one would bring the salvation he sought after but he couldn’t even finish the chant of a single spell. A sharp fragment of the mountain walls broke off after the ground crashed into it. It fell straight down into depths and Craven was in its path. Like one would trample on an ant and not take notice, the fragment continued falling with blood spilling by in its wake.