Demonic Kitsune

"Hm..."

Clare realized that staying here would inevitably drag her into a bloody fight, where killing was unavoidable. And the fact that the Heavenly Saintess who wanted to save the world, would have no choice but to kill a kid over a petty baton. Sighing, she noticed that the batons were quickly running out. The little Arrancars who arrived late would start to fight those with batons, trying to steal them. Thinking of this, Clare slipped away before the chaos ensued.

Taking a short break seemed to rejuvenate her muscles, making the way up easier. Clare found the ascent of the Gate of Hell interesting. Larger batons were a problem for other late kids to grip. Arriving early meant picking the shorter one, which was lighter and less cumbersome. The heavier, larger batons tended to drag one back during the ascent, adding to the weight of the spiked balls dragging them down. Additionally, the hot and steep steps posed a risk of slipping and serious injury to worn-out muscles.

The Senior instructor neglected to mention these details.

Retaining one’s sense of ascending gravity becomes more challenging if one holds a long baton. The iron bracers connected to spiked balls upset the balance on different sides of the body. However, Clare moved nimbly and quickly, despite the red sores on her feet and palms. She managed the spiked balls, avoiding unnecessary movement and alternating the baton between her hands to overcome the strain.

WHOOSH!

Her blood pulsed as veins bulged around her body. Clare magnificently manipulated the baton, slashing and thrusting against dangers and obstructions caused by falling boulders and rock shrapnel. Her heart raced as she discovered hidden paths amidst the chaos. These weren't hidden paths but carefully implemented routes by the instructors for those sharp enough to notice them.

Clare's hands swerved through the air as she sliced and cut through one of the hidden side routes. She navigated the open road in between, balancing perfectly. The hot air brushed across her tender face, her emerald hair fluttering. Sweat trickled down her cheek and neck as she accelerated, using the shaking motion from the impending magma eruption. The vibration from the earth's crust could cause an imbalance if one loses focus. Amidst her body's rebounding force, her tails stood alert, the spiked balls following her rhythmically. Her concentration peaked as she drowned out the scorching ambient surroundings.

Others tried to mimic her actions but, without knowing the precise calculations and process, they became exhausted quickly. Dizziness, dry throat, suffocation, and headaches soon overcame them.

"Wow!"

"Is she the Sword Demon Maiden in her past life or something?"

"I wish I could do something like that!"

"Just look at her nine tails dashing through the air!"

"Right, is it because she's a half-breed? Maybe I could be a half-breed too and achieve that!"

Some exhausted little Arrancars with single horns admired her, watching as she dashed up elegantly despite the tunnel's trembling momentum and increasing heat.

Anyone watching could tell Clare in the body of GIMEL was amazing with a katana in her tender hand, just based on how she maneuvered with a baton. Even though descending was more draining, it shouldn’t be that hard to ascend. A smile naturally hung around Clare’s mouth as she eavesdropped on the little Arrancar’s praises.

However, the gentle smile soon disappeared from her lips as she reached the top of the Gate of Hell, where the demon instructor was. Her fluffy ears twitched, and her nine tails curled up in anticipation.

“Hey, bitch, leave your baton behind and fuck off!”

A sudden, husky voice shouted from the left. It was baffling enough to make Clare slow her movements and come to a stop as her gaze narrowed. Comparing her body to that of this demon-girl in dark robes with silver embellishments was laughable.

From one center horn on her forehead to a bluish-dark complexion, dark-raven hair, sharp ears, and thin dark eyes, her head and lips were bigger and fatter. Her overall body was much bulkier in comparison. Plus, her voice was deeper yet girly compared to Clare in GIMEL’s body.

Even Clare, who had seen girls like this before, couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to this demon girl. As Clare glanced at her with indifference and calmness, SOATH’s face contorted in anger, and she gestured with two fingers for Clare to hand over her baton.

“Did you not hear me? Leave the baton and fuck off, you half-breed!”

Asking Clare to hand over her hard-earned baton was bad enough. But calling her a half-breed? That was humiliating.

She was the only nine-tailed Nin—a rare race with a troubled history with demons. Among the Arrancars, she stood out. No horns but fluffy nine-tails. Her ears weren't as sharp as a demon's, but upright, triangular ears.

In other words, her foxy bloodline was 55% higher than her demon bloodline. So, if she lacked half of the traits of a proper demon despite being a half-breed, there could be a chance she wasn’t even a demon, right?

Sighing, Clare had encountered clichés like this in her past life and the life before that. Instead of disgust or irritation, amusement always got the better of her. Same as now. Her indifference vanished as she chuckled lightly, gazing at SOATH like she was staring at a cliché.

The little Arrancars gathered in the institute were between the ages of 9 to 15 and were actual demon kids with different skin hues, sharp ears, and eyes of various colors or two distinct ones. Some of the children had one or two horns, located on either side of their heads or in the center.

To Clare, who was far older in spirit—Hell, a very ancient adult woman—a simple height and body fat difference and a husky voice was a complete joke. With a baton in her hand that could be used like a sword, it was borderline insane for SOATH to try and pick a fight with an adult. Of course, SOATH didn’t know that and would never figure that out, but still...

It seemed unlikely that SOATH would consider the girl standing in front of her the worst candidate for a robbery attempt. SOATH, who was used to intimidating others with her size and weight, thought this would be easy even if things had to get physical. In the institute, the demon children didn’t have easy lives before they came there, so it wasn’t as if SOATH didn’t know how to fight.

‘I bet, along with her appetite, she has probably grown up thinking that being proud of her size and intimidation is the easiest way to get what she wants in life.’

Well, she wasn’t wrong. If it was Clare’s first life, she would have related to her thoughts, but being in her third life, she just saw SOATH acting like a child who thought that was the only way.

“And you think this is funny, don’t you?”

It seemed SOATH was a bit arrogant and got her pride hurt as Clare blatantly smiled at her. Chuckling lightly, she walked up to SOATH and sized her up. Soon, her lips sneered as she replied while glancing at SOATH.

“What a conceited brat you are. Have you ever heard of someone as arrogant as you being picked on?”

It was a chilling sneer that revealed Clare’s fangs. She already knew why SOATH opted to rob her, but she also reflected on how SOATH should have just tossed her off the ridge at a precise moment but chose not to.

‘What a moron.’

The ones that came down before consistently proved themselves to be elites among the elites. SOATH didn’t want to confront them. After those elites had passed, she was just waiting for the next child with a baton to show up since she was convinced she could beat him or her as long as they weren’t at the same level as the previous ones.

‘Why can’t someone just beat her to a pulp or push her off the steps? I guess no one among the elites that passed cares about her and her stupid plot.’

Indeed, no one cared. If not for SOATH calling out intimately at her when she was too focused, which almost made her critical balance calculations backlash, she would have just passed her as well.

Inwardly, letting out a deep breath and shaking her head, Clare thought about how SOATH was technically an elite talent, but this brat didn’t want to compete against other elite talents. She was just looking for someone to show her arrogance to, beat up, rob, and get her breakfast without effort.

A freeloading cliché.

It just so happened that the next one to come up the tunnel at that precise point was GIMEL.

The cliché vanquisher.

To SOATH, GIMEL appeared to have no skill, no physique, no strength, and no demonic energy. She assumed that Clare most likely obtained the baton through sheer dumb luck. So, she made a move on her.

A very obvious cliché.

Indeed, it was too obvious—far too obvious—that Clare knew exactly what this brat’s thought process was. She couldn’t sit still and decided to beat her down here and now. From what she could see for a year, SOATH's morality and behavior were incredibly hypocritical, bowing down to the strong and beating up the weak just because she could.

For some reason, Clare’s bitter memories of her past life as a too-nice, clumsy average-looking who never knew the real color of the world flashed in her mind. Of course, having learned that after being bullied and beaten to the point of becoming depressed, infected with antisocial anxiety, often taking drugs and pumping shit into her veins to feel numb in her dark attic.

Every day was utter mental agony. Percs and street-drug lean numbed all her torment until she was sober again. Suffering from depersonalization disorder (DD), she felt disconnected from herself. Her body sat on the bed, her spirit felt like it was beneath the floor, and her heart seemed to float out into space, growing colder.

Her mind broke as she took six to seven blue pills daily, getting too high while listening to emo-rap. She blamed her parents and her entire pathetic life.

Many miserable memories akin to that of a high schooler surfaced as Clare contemplated this. She bit her lower lip so tightly that she let out a deep breath. She thought she had forgotten about all that happened in the past, but it seems…

Clare couldn’t let this go, no matter what.

“What did you say to me, bitch?”

SOATH approached Clare with an incredibly irritated expression. From her point of view, meeting GIMEL was an absolute fortune. Sure, GIMEL had been doing okay lately, but a year ago, she used to grovel and beg like a bug in front of anyone. She had a small size and few interactions with other kids, so obviously, she was an easy target for the strong.

SOATH had no idea how she had fallen so suddenly. She suspected that Clare must be fatigued from the extreme heat and the concentration needed for weight balancing. She reasoned that the so-called “weak half-breed” would put the baton down softly and respectfully if she was threatened just a little, right?

But what the hell was this? As SOATH contemplated further, she wondered how a half-breed from the Garbage Section could dare talk back to her, an Elite. Her teeth clenched. The thought of it infuriated her. She couldn't hold back her anger and shouted with demonic energy, “What did you say, mugot?”

“AHH!”

Before SOATH could process what was happening, Clare had the baton in her hand. With the might of 10.5 kg in both hands, she swung the spiked balls.

The long chains curled around SOATH's legs. With a single push, SOATH's head spun. The dark-red rocky ceiling, the boiling magma, and the rocky steps blended—the last things she saw before falling on her fatty butt.

“Argh!”

SOATH was bleeding as she looked at Clare and tried to get up.

But that wasn’t enough. Clare smacked her face black and blue until she looked like a bleeding pig.

“Krgh! My face!”

SOATH held her face, crying in agony. Her teeth gnashed in extreme rage. “You bitch!” She got up swiftly and swung her fatty fist at Clare, but it wasn’t the fist she intended to use. Clare’s ears tensed up as a spiked ball shot through the air toward her.

However, SOATH couldn't possibly know that the body was that of GIMEL, but her soul was from an entity who hated bullies and was a heavenly saintess in her past life. Clare’s arms swung, and her own spiked ball counterattacked the impending blow. They collided and dispersed each other. Yet, SOATH kept on, her attacks becoming faster and more destructive. Even without demonic energy, one hit could send someone off balance and into the pit of magma.

Taking note, Clare casually avoided the blows by taking two steps back and shifting her center of gravity when needed. She countered if she couldn’t evade. 

That was the only movement she did.

Soon, Clare’s tails swelled and became more robust as she prepared her next attack. This time, she pressed the spiked ball firmly into the ground and used her baton. It was so fast that SOATH couldn’t see the movement. Clare struck her ribs incredibly hard.

“Uh-Urk!”

SOATH winced, her ribs definitely broken, as she was forced to kneel, gasping for air. But that wasn’t the end. GIMEL's first life memories clouded Clare’s mind with rage. Taking advantage of SOATH's vulnerable position after a kick to her cheek, Clare mercilessly crushed SOATH’s ankles with enough force to penetrate her fat.

“Accccck!”

SOATH screamed as sweat and mucus dashed down her face. She quivered uncontrollably in agony. Fortunately, she didn’t hit her head against the wall. But before SOATH knew it, Clare was pressing the baton down on her chest, her gaze filled with intense malice.

It was the murderous malice of a Demonic Kitsune.

“I bet you felt good beating up weaker kids, didn’t you?” Clare queried. 

SOATH’s large cherry-red lips trembled. She dared not open her mouth. She was so afraid of GIMEL that she felt as if she were the one who was a head shorter.

“UHH!”

Seeing her trembling expression, Clare lifted the baton. She gripped it tightly as if she was about to drop it.

“No! Please!”

SOATH cried out, unable to move or counterattack, pleading with Clare to spare her. She couldn’t control her bladder, and her head began to bleed as she peed violently.

SOATH was only twelve years old. Not too young, but not old enough to clearly distinguish between extreme good and evil. All of this was just comical evil, survival evil, or cliche evil of a demon brat. Indeed, she was old enough to pick on others and feel good about it, but she still had the chance to change her ways.

As a Heavenly Saintess, Clare reflected that trying to take her baton wasn’t a sin worthy of death. Of course, it was a sin big enough to warrant death in the demon realm if SOATH was of a different age.

“I’ll let you live. But…”

Her gaze showed enough bloodlust to pierce the heavens and tremble the erupting magma. That didn’t mean she would just let SOATH go. Clare wasn’t an old gramp in this life; she was quite young.

Not only that but if it was the other way around, she might have been killed without being able to fulfill her desire for absolute vengeance.

“...You have to be punished.”

Clare lifted the baton in her tender, bleeding hand.

“So far, you’ve done nothing but pretend to be strong and bully those weaker than you. People call that arrogance, but I call it stupidity. You probably thought you would steal a baton from someone weaker than you today. Now, maybe you’ll know what it’s like to be on the receiving end.”

“Bitch… I mean girl, come on, please spare me.”

SOATH’s lips trembled as she cried. Her tears dried up instantly from the heat, forming long, deep trails on her face. She pleaded with Clare, but there was no mercy in Clare’s eyes.

CRACK!

With that powerful impact on her forearm, SOATH lost consciousness. Before that, Clare leaned in close and whispered some parting words.

“Repent and be strong. This is your last warning.”

At that grand voice, echoing within her soul, SOATH bled in utmost fear before losing consciousness.