A/N: Hi all! I can't say that this is my first written story that I've published, but what I've taken down have been some pretty... painfully amateurish stories. This is my first published chapter in over 5 years of reading and writing as a hobby. Hopefully it's not too terribly cringy or anything of the sort. As it stands, this is a kinda crazy plot idea that popped into my head and hasn't left yet. I don't have anything else written out but if there's any interest I can keep running with whatever's tickling my muse.

Best,

Juju

The grass was obnoxiously green, soft over the hard ground outside the walls of the city. The tree behind me stood tall, branches spreading wide and offering copious amounts of shade. There was a gentle breeze blowing over my skin, soft fingers of air kissing me lovingly. It was perfectly temperate, the weather perfectly pleasant, and the semi-cloudy sky was perfectly pretty on such a wonderfully beautiful day.

"This is kinda gross," I mutter to myself. As much as I love nature and being outside on a perfect day like this, the absolutely splitting headache that was pounding behind my eyes very much ruined it for me.

That, and the holographic screen that shone a soft golden color floating in front of me.

[Good morning Gamer! You've been selected by the gods still in Tenkai to come live in the world of Danmachi! A world of adventure and danger awaits your exploits! There's booze and girls galore! Your mission to is entertain the gods! Give them a good show if you know what's good for ya!]

It was slightly transparent and not very intrusive but it was so absolutely, mind-bogglingly bizarre that I couldn't help but look at it every few seconds. I could see a little white arrow in the bottom right corner for closing the screen but I was far too wary of this… thing to touch it. It felt like touching it would make it more real, give it power over my life.

A deep breath later and a shaking finger tapped the screen lightly. It felt cool to the touch, like smooth glass yet it was almost like it wasn't there; a phantom of a feeling.

[Luckily for you, you've been randomly assigned VETERAN mode – Gamer's Mind and Gamer's Body are unavailable! This, however, means that you can passively gain skills through experience, and here in the world of Danmachi, there's plenty of experience to be had, though some of it may be a little… painful! :)]

Okay but what in the actual fudge brownies was this? I could vaguely remember the comic that had the Gamer ability and the gods of this world were taking away some of the most powerful assets. Another phantom feeling of cool glass and another page popped up.

[Even more fortunately for you, the gods have recognized that the Gamer may want to return to their original world! The only way to achieve this is to reach the end of the Dungeon! However, there's one caveat here, Gamer:

Nobody is allowed to ever find out that you have the ability of the Gamer. Should anybody, god or mortal alike, figure out your powers, you will be stripped of your ability and title, and never be able to reach your home. Additionally, should you ever reveal to the gods on the mortal plane who gifted you these powers, the immediate punishment is Death.]

Well then, that took a rather intense turn. The general tone of the message had gone straight from annoyingly perky to ominous and threatening. I clicked on the little 'x' at the top right corner of the screen and the hologram shimmered out of existence in a graceful shimmer of gentle gold sparks. My arm flopped right back down to the ground next to my prone form.

In a rather unfortunate turn of events, my headache was not reducing in intensity and I had a strong suspicion that it wouldn't abate until I'd had actual food. Just a hunch.

I stared at the verdant canopy above me in silent contemplation. This was… a lot to process all at once. I'd been agnostic in my last life and now, in this world, there are literal gods both in heaven and roaming the streets? Apparently at least. What an absolute mess.

"Ho, what're you doing there little boy?" I tilted my head to the side, soft grass tickling my cheek, and spot a tall woman… woman? The hair was dark and long, reaching her waist. She didn't have regular ears, but instead had long ears atop her head, furry and pointed. Cat ears?

There was movement behind her and then I saw a long tail peek out from the edge of her profile, a pitch-black fox's tail. Fox ears then, not cat ears. Kitsune?

"What even are you?" I asked grouchily, and wow not only had I just said that out loud but my voice sounded like I smoked a twelve-pack a day, ate gravel for breakfast, and swallowed razor blades as a hobby on top of it all.

She? I think the person was a she, with the kimono and her actually presenting like a woman. Well, she looked affronted and maybe even a little confused.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, sounding like a lady of incomparable class. And carrying her self like one too, with her immaculate kimono and perfectly groomed appearance.

"I uh, don't know what you are?" I said, voice rising in pitch at the end of my question in my uncertainty.

"You've never seen a renard before?" she questioned, sounding absolutely shocked and appalled.

"You actually remind me a lot more of a kitsune." And she really did, with her fox-like facial features. Not just the ears and tail but there was a lot more that was just too fox-like about her. Though, kitsune were a mythical creature of my old world and I had absolutely no idea what renard were. But, it would seem like that was the wrong thing to say.

From one instant to the next, as soon as the words crossed the threshold of my lips, the mood of the day changed. A cloud blew over the sun, the air chilled, and the gentle wind stilled, all in the blink of an eye.

"Interesting," she said, smooth voice now completely devoid of confusion and surprise, "that a child so young and so weak has such odd powers of perception." Her tone was cold, calculating. The shade of the tree was darker, harsher.

I sat up quickly, far too quickly by the sudden white that overtook my vision and the rushing in my head. She… she was dangerous. Her amber eyes took on an ethereal glow, one tail splitting into nine and spreading out into a black halo behind her. There was a pressure in the air, something singing and humming, reaching me to the bone.

[Hostile aura detected, skill Danger Sense created.]

The screen shimmered into being before promptly shattering into sharp fragments a second later, only to be replaced by another one.

[You have a new quest!

Quest: Convince the Kitsune

Lore: By correctly guessing that the spirit before you is a Kitsune, you have placed yourself in mortal danger! Battle her and win, or convince her not to kill you - as it would be a piss poor showing to the gods to die within minutes of being brought into this world! Good luck Gamer!]

"Your knowledge puts my life in danger, young one," she mused, cold as winter ice.

"Would you let me live if I told you a secret that would put my life in danger?" I asked her, a desperate calm falling like a blanket over my shoulders. There was a beat of silence before she cocked her head to the side, the winter storm behind her eyes giving way to interest.

"Ho? And what would be your secret that could risk your life, young one?" She reached into her sleeve with one graceful, pale hand, and pulled out a beautifully decorated fan that she opened before her face, covering the lower half of her visage with delicate, elaborate sakura blossoms.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'm a traveler from another world, brought here to conquer the dungeon?"

She raised an eyebrow, the only expression I could see above the fan.

"Very well then," she replied, voice taking on the coy curiosity of earlier. The air weighed less, the sun shone again from behind the cloud, and the gentle wind began blowing again, cooling clammy skin.

With a clack of wood, the fan folded and promptly disappeared back into the sleeve of her robe.

"I can guess as to who might have brought you here, but I won't ask. It wouldn't do to invite too much untoward attention to us now would it?" Her painted lips quirked slightly, sharp red set into a pleasing curve.
"Much appreciated," I replied in evident relief. And it was. While it was stipulated that I couldn't let the gods find out about my status, I didn't want to push my luck too much either. Veteran mode and all that gave me no illusion that next to nothing would go my way in this world.

[Quest: Convince the Kitsune

Success! But be careful, you don't want to tread to close to the edge of the gods' favor!

Reward: Magic Sense skill has been unlocked!]

Pale translucent gold shattered as soon as I read the words, as quick and subtly as it had appeared. There was an immediate hum in the air that I could only assume was magic but this marvel was quickly and easily forgotten by the kitsune's next words.

"But how frail and weak you are!" she exclaimed. I couldn't really be sure but I don't think I saw any cruelty in her eyes but was that maybe a little bit of pity? "What a cruel joke to throw you into this world like this with nothing to protect yourself."

She looked me up and down while I struggled to decide if I was insulted or not, but she didn't give me time to come to a decision before her cultured voice intruded on my thoughts again.

"I've decided. I'll train you to take on the dungeon, but on one condition. When you go to Orario, you must join the Loki Familia," she commanded more than offered, a sly grin maker her appear evermore like a fox.

"What's Orario?"

The sly look was soon replaced by one of mild annoyance.

"I thought you might be a budding flower but it seems like you're a seed that's yet to even take root. Seems like I have my work cut out for me."

And so followed a few grueling weeks of learning to read the language (which earned me more than one exasperated sigh) and some of the history of this world, what a dungeon was, and I even got my ass kicked a few times a week as she sought to teach me some martial arts. In knowing the spoken language, learning to read progressed quickly until I had an acceptable level of proficiency, which, in her eyes it amounted to what was basically a near flawless and perfect understanding of dense literary works.

I didn't earn anything in skills beyond Basic Martial Arts which amounted to an incredibly small boost to my power and dexterity. Though even the very basics that she taught me were ingrained and refined by her strict teaching that the skill was already at level 50 by the time the first month was out.

The Kitsune attempted to teach me her magic, and when that didn't work, attempted to awaken the dormant magic that she said she knew I had within me. It was a source of endless frustration for her and mild amusement for me.

Another month passed and we moved on to learning now to use a knife and various other weapons, earning me the Basic Blade Works skill, which also quickly leveled under her strict tutelage.

Another four months later and both skills grew and evolved from basic to intermediate, martial arts even developing into the very first levels of advanced. Most days, I read scrolls on magic and magical theory, mostly focusing on the runic inscriptions used to direct the magic in the magical stones retrieved in the dungeon to give off light or to release flames for cooking.

It was a faint hope of mine that if I gained enough knowledge in these runes, that I might be able to create runic, enchanted weapons and armor. Maybe even go back home to my loved ones, somehow. As the days passed, I saw less and less of the lady of the house, though she never failed to show up to beat me into the ground in a lopsided attempt to teach me how to fight.

We lived in a grand, Japanese-style manor which was maintained by maids and a butler and sported a training field and dojo. All of the staff sported the characteristic ears and tail of the renard race (and was it a Renard trait that all of their magics felt so similar and intertwined?). Set apart from everything else was a beautiful koi pond by which I would relax and take breaks.

It was at the very end of the sixth month that things… changed. I'd been wondering when I would be deemed satisfactorily competent to join the Loki Familia, but the kitsune never brought it up. Again, this changed one day in the beginning of fall, when the kitsune sought me out as I sat under a sakura tree by the pond, book of runic inscriptions on my lap.

This was unusual in and of itself, as I had always been allowed to have my breaks uninterrupted. Behind her followed the only butler of the household, carrying a basket.

"Have tea with me," she commanded, kneeling as a pure white blanket was set on the ground in a neat flourish. She held herself straight-backed, poised beyond reproach. With a wave of her hand, the butler set the basket down and departed, nary a word spoken.

There, again, was that odd pull of magic, as if there was some sort of bond or some such between them.

"So, what's up?" I asked her bluntly, not bothering to veil my curiosity. I joined her at the blanket in seiza, book resting placidly beside me.

"I'm dying," she said just as bluntly. Her hands were steady as she poured both of us scalding hot tea, how she always took it.

I very carefully didn't react, giving her the space and time she needed to elaborate, if she so wished.

"I was cursed by the gods… a long time ago, and no matter how powerful I am, it seems like the curse is finally catching up to me. In six months' time, my time will come to pass." Her words were even and final, simple and understanding of her own situation. I didn't know how old she was but it was fair to say that it was far more than I would even wager to guess.

"What do you need me to do?" I asked her, my voice matching the evenness of hers, even if it felt like my world was turning inside out. The woman, spirit, kitsune… she had taken me in and trained, let me learn and grow. We hadn't become close as such, but there was a strong, unshakable bond between teacher and student, caretaker and dependent.

"When the time comes, you will leave for Orario and join the Loki Familia. You will take on the dungeon, with all of the grace and dignity that you have been taught. You will be strong, the strongest. And you will become strong enough to make those runes work, and go back to your world."

I sucked in a sharp breath at the strength of her words. She kneeled in seiza before me, royal, dignified, strong beyond comparison. Her eyes were unwavering, her hair waving gently in the breeze as a few sakura petals fell around us. It felt like a preordained prophecy, with how much certainty she put into her words. I couldn't help the shiver that chilled me to the core.

Cursed for years uncounted by a slow-acting poison, down to the six months of her life, and yet she exuded so much strength of mind, body, and magic.

"You must've been absolutely ferocious in your prime," I remarked.

"A force of nature in my own right," she agreed simply before taking a delicate sip of her tea.

For the first time, anxiety roiled in my gut hard enough to make me want to puke.

That night, night terrors broke the monotony of the dreamless sleep which plagued me since my arrival.

"What motivates you?" asked the kitsune one stormy evening, sleet pattering against the roof of the large abode.

I stared eyes settling on the lamp in the corner of the room, light radiating from a little magic stone. The runic inscription at the bottom of the little bowl that it levitated over directing the magic dormant within.

"To forget," I replied honestly. To forget a lost love, from whom I had walked away. To forget a life that had left me with scars.

"To grow," I continued. To grow into that hero that the stories of my world always depicted, a leftover dream from a torn childhood.

"To find purpose and heal." I wanted, needed, a reason to get out of bed every day. Something to fuel a fire within me, that would let me smile at the day and drive me forward. And while I didn't know if I'd find such a love again, maybe I could at least find peace within myself.

"I want to be strong," I finished plainly.

My inner monologue might as well have been spoken, with the full look of understanding. Knowing her, it might as well have been.

"Tell me, why have you never asked?"

"Asked what?"

"Why I was cursed. How this came to be."

"Honestly? I just assumed that you did something amazing and that made a god jealous so they cursed you. You only lived as long as you did because you're too badass to just lay down and die."

Her laugh tinkled through the sliding doors before being muted by the beautiful snow of late winter.

"When the time is right, you will receive my blessing."

Thunder boomed outside, menacing in the early spring storm. A small fire bloomed between my hands, held under iron control.

"Young one, dear child," the kitsune said, motioning me closer. I leaned forward from where I stood next to her western-style bed. In the last week or so, she'd stopped being able to hide her true nature and now nine silver tails were laid across the king-sized bed.

6 days ago, her hair had turned silver with age.

5 days ago, she had developed a trembling in her hands when she drank tea.

4 days ago, age caught up with her skin, though the wrinkles only made her look more refined and stately.

3 days ago, she had lost the ability to walk.

2 days ago, she had stopped eating.

Yesterday, she had slept the whole day.

Now she sat in bed, back straight and shoulders set proudly.

"Have you guessed it yet? Why I've lived so long."

"You shared the curse with all of the renard here," I told her. It was a guess at most, but not an entirely uneducated one. The odd feel of a bond, the similarity in magic. It could have been a magical contract, according to my studies, or perhaps a ritual. But in order to dilute the curse of gods, great magics were required. There were few greater magics than sacrifice.

"Marvelous," she sighed out while her eyes sparkled with intense anticipation.

"When you die, so will everyone here," I whispered. I could feel it coming. Death taking cold, silent steps around us.

My throat felt tight, like when I woke up crying after night terrors. It was hard to breathe and my chest hurt, but I'd be dammed if I made this situation about me.

"Little kit, it's okay to cry," she said, reaching forward and putting a withering palm against my cheek. Her pale, frail skin was an odd contrast to my own healthy swarthiness. "You'll never heal unless you feel, grieve, and let go. So feel and cry. It's okay."

Silent tears streaked down my face as she smiled.

"I'm too proud to die quietly. I'm too old and too angry to simply let the gods smite me because of their own capriciousness." She looked me dead in the eye, as the kindness there was burned away by dark flames.

"Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

As phrase after phrase fell from my lips, my voice strengthened and my hiccupping breaths evened out considerably. Oh, the thought of losing this bastion of strength and support scared me and hurt me considerably but... she had trained me and prepared me. I'd be okay (I hoped).

"I shall." Then she reached forward with her other arm and grasped my face between both of her hands. "We will burn, so that you may rise out of the ashes like a phoenix. You will be fire and life; passion, love, and destruction; you will illuminate the darkest of nights with blinding light. You will be our sun, and our revenge. So mote it be."

"So mote it be," I whisper back.

She pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and the world went white with pain. The heat and roaring of a fire consumed the air, my skin, my sight. I was burning to death with the mansion and its people around me.

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.