Fox Tale Of A Dungeon Boss 24 Chapter 24: Old... Friend?

I sighed, cleaning my knife with golden fire, Sacred Flame burning off all the fluids and strings of flesh left over.

I was using Sacred Flame to raise its Proficiency, and looking at the dead Hobgoblin with a large chunk takes out of its head through its eye. I turned to the right, looking at the goblins left with black veins, dead, with foam at their mouths.

Some had spectral arrows, grey and near see-through, pierced throughout. Others had limbs and perhaps even their heads cut off, while one had been separated entirely in half.

Luna has gone back to the clearing so as not to see the aftermath, and a Touka had followed after healing my bruised ribs.

I went through the menu, letting the Dungeon absorb all the corpses, watching them all turn into a s.h.i.+mmering light.

Then I got up, suddenly having my attention captured by my knife as I got ready to head back in.

To put it simply, my knife isn't anything special. It's basic, and not exactly strong steel. So it had a few chips in it, and a few scratches.

But I watched as Sacred Flame burned away blood and flesh, some was left over. After all, the idea is to burn away impurities. So once that's done, what's left over when it's dead?

The healing aspect brought these strange 'leftovers', and fused them into the cracks in the knife, leaving a blade made mostly of steel, with blood red lines and pieces in its edge, as well as lines crossing the flat of the blade, from where the flesh had fused into the scratches and chips.

'a.n.a.lyze?'

Made by the Dungeon for you, it has gotten some wear and tear from hitting Blood Aura and scratching past bone.

Flesh from an evolved creature still filled with soul energy and mana(brain matter) has been excited by Magic and brought into the knife, fusing the remnants of life force into the blade.>

"...uh... okay."

I don't really know how to respond to this strange occurrence, so I'm just going to re-examine the knife later. Right now... I need to figure out my plans.

I know that the 3 Tengu can handle themselves, easily. And if there were a lot again, even with Hobgoblins, good luck getting to the shrine with Aqua able to drown you if you try to swim. Though with Blood Aura maybe the could jump? Nah Aqua could catch them.
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I looked up, and felt surprise run through me.

A wolf stood at the edge of the hill, just out of the Dungeons boundary, and it looked quite different. It's fur was black, with hints of red accents on its chest, paws, ears, and tail. The eyes shone a dark duskgold, with hints of amber flecks. It's teeth I would later see were a bright white, with strong fangs, but right now it's mouth was solemnly closed.

Perhaps most interestingly, or at least most important to me, it was missing a front leg. The right paw specifically. But the stump had some bits of what looked like smoke drifting off of it.

'That's... the wolf I healed after blasting off its leg.'

Lore: From the fire and light, smoke shall rise. This fallen slave has felt the fear of knowing it will die, and was spared in its would-be-killers mercy, earning his eternal respect. He has risen to never again feel that fear.>

'That... sounds... really... regal. Am I mentioned in this guys flavor text now...?'

The Smoke Hound dipped his head at me, and took a few steps forward, crossing the Dungeon border, with an odd hop to make up for its missing limb.

However, instead of getting an alert for an intruder, I got something completely unexpected.

I read in a bit of shock. I looked up at this beast, with the air it held, and asked, "are you sure? There's no turning back you know."

The only answer he gave was to continue staring at me, his eyes showing no hesitation.

I hit the accept option, and got the notice of

"Hmm..."

I watched the Smoke Hound hop over to me, and gently rubbed behind its ear.

"Alright. I name you Fenrir, after the wolf who was so feared the G.o.ds themselves chained it, and who still broke those chains to devour the G.o.ds who'd imprisoned it."

I don't know where the memories came from, but I knew that was the name that fit best with me.

Race: Smoke Hound(Evolved Dire Wolf Subspecies)

Cla.s.s: N/A

Info: A wolf who has chosen to follow you after being spared.

Lore: From the fire and light, smoke shall rise. This fallen slave has felt the fear of knowing it will die, and was spared in its would-be-killers mercy, earning his eternal respect. He has risen to never again feel that fear.>

I smiled at the wolf, and watched as he lay down beside me.

Fear. Panic. Anxiety. I felt all these things, spending 10 days in this world, running about and panicking as I lived in fear of dying, as I found my courage to face life and live in this world. I am walking a strange path as a Dungeon Boss, with little goal or aim.

So perhaps the idea that I haven't exactly felt okay, or relaxed won't be surprising.

But when Fenrir lay next to me, and knowing how a random choice of mine granted me this friend...

I felt hope. Hopeful for what this world is, because I live in it now. And I think I'm starting to hope for what I can do. The life I can live.

As the tension drained, I fell asleep, tired of a day living on the edge of death, being chased by a horde and battling to the death, with my menu still open, now on my stats.

Fenrir lay, feeling the energy in the air filling him, changing him once again, as the smoke coming from his leg intensified, the process occurring there speeding up. He turned to look at the man, the Foxkin who had spared him and given him a new life.

Up at the gate to the Boss Room, now formally called the Glade by the Dungeon's Residents, Isen stood at attention, feeling the change in his lord's state and the new partner. He nodded to Fenrir, which Fenrir acknowledged with a flick of his ear, and Isen, apparently satisfied, went back to the others, who had begun cooking roast apples.

And far off, in kingdoms not yet aware of the Forests new residents, wars were fought, and spies were sent, with bandits and refugees fleeing in equal manner.

To the north, on the mountain, the lost G.o.d watched and waited, as a voice spoke to him.

And in caverns to the west, beings that spoke not by word or sign, communed by thought of the thralls who had gone missing to the east.