AiTO : Of Foxes and Wolves

A-1, Ch 8 : Nita

As they entered the temple, Red's eyes darted around, scanning every corner of the ancient structure. The temple was old, that much was clear. The bricks had lost their perfect edges, vines crept through cracks in the walls and snaked up toward the roof. Yet, despite its weathered appearance, the temple radiated an aura of power and reverence—something fitting for such a place.

Camalie walked beside Red, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. While she smiled slightly at his curiosity, her thoughts began to churn with familiar doubt. Every step toward the elder reminded her of the times she had failed, how her magical applications in the past had crumbled under pressure. The quiet whispers of the other priestesses, the constant expectations weighing on her, all came rushing back. She had faltered too many times, each one piling onto her shoulders like a burden she couldn't shake.

As they approached the elder, the knot in her chest tightened. This wasn't just another trial—this was her chance to finally prove that she wasn't the failure everyone thought she would be. But if she failed again, if Red wasn't accepted...

She swallowed hard as they stood before the elder, an ancient figure who exuded calm authority. His eyes, aged yet sharp, focused on them, and Camalie felt her nerves spike. Bowing slightly, she introduced Red with as much steadiness as she could muster.

"This is... Red, my familiar," she said softly, her voice wavering only for a moment. "He's the result of my revival magic."

The elder's discerning gaze lingered on Red. He studied him in silence, as if weighing not just Red, but Camalie's worth through him. His expression remained unreadable, and for a brief moment, Camalie braced herself for criticism or doubt. But to her relief, he didn't seem fazed by the fact that Red had once been an enemy soldier. His neutrality left her feeling both hopeful and anxious—this might be her chance, or her final failure.

But before they could continue, a sharp, mocking voice sliced through the air, cutting the fragile tension.

"Well, well, if it isn't the ever-failing Camalie, back to embarrass herself again."

Camalie froze. Her heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. Nita had arrived.

Nita was everything Camalie wasn't. Where Camalie struggled, Nita thrived—a prodigy in the clan, excelling in both magical theory and application. She strutted into the temple with an air of superiority, her cold smirk twisting her otherwise flawless face. The other priestesses and villagers often praised her, elevating her success as a stark contrast to Camalie's failures.

Behind Nita loomed her familiar, a towering, fox warrior. Its presence alone caused whispers to ripple through the room, as it was known for its unparalleled strength. Nita had summoned and perfected it early in her training, a feat no other priestess could claim. It was another of Nita's successes that constantly overshadowed Camalie's struggles.

Camalie stiffened further, her past failures crashing into her mind. She had been humiliated too many times in front of the clan, and Nita had always been there to witness them—to relish in them. Now, with the elder watching, the weight of this moment felt unbearable.

Nita sauntered closer, her smirk widening as she took in Camalie's pale face. "Oh, and what's this?" she asked with feigned surprise, her gaze sweeping over Red. "A familiar, you say? How quaint. Let me guess, another half-baked experiment?"

Red, quiet but observant, turned his attention to Nita's familiar. Despite its intimidating appearance, he quickly noticed something off. The magic animating it didn't flow naturally. It lacked the delicate balance of life and magic that a true familiar–like himself– possessed. Instead, the magic only fueled the limbs—it was a puppet, mindless, with no true vitality left. A hollow shell, despite its impressive façade.

Camalie clenched her fists, feeling her confidence erode under Nita's scrutiny. The familiar, the smirk, the cold arrogance—it all made her feel small, as though every inch of progress she'd made was meaningless in Nita's shadow.

And now, in front of the elder, her chance to prove herself hung by a thread, while Nita seemed poised to sever it with a single word.

The elder cleared his throat. "Camalie, Nita. I would like to see your familiars demonstrate their capabilities. This is not a contest, merely a test to assess their potential."

Camalie's heart sank. Her hands trembled slightly as she considered the task. Nita, sensing her rival's distress, couldn't resist.

"Really, Camalie? You revived an enemy soldier? And one that can't possibly stand a chance against mine? This is going to be hilarious."

Before Camalie could respond, Red casually stepped between her and Nita, his small frame a surprising shield. He looked up at Nita, his lips curling into a smirk of his own. "Do you always talk this much? Or do you just want people to notice you?"

Nita blinked, momentarily stunned by the comment. Red's words, though simple, hit their mark. She clenched her fists but remained silent, glaring at him.

Then, she spoke. "Hiding behind your familiar again, Camalie? What a surprise. I guess that's what happens when you can't handle real magic."

The taunt hit Camalie hard. Her breath caught in her throat, shame blooming in her chest. She wanted to deny it, to insist that she wasn't relying on Red, but her words faltered. The truth of Nita's statement stung more than she cared to admit.

Camalie bristled, her face flushing with frustration. "I don't hide behind anyone!" she shot back, but the words felt weak and unconvincing.

Red noticed Camalie's struggle and saw the tension in her eyes. Despite his earlier bravado, he was far from confident. The sight of Nita's towering warrior, at least four times his size, made his stomach churn. Inside, his mind was a chaotic mess of uncertainty and fear.

As they entered the arena, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Red rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness. His gaze locked onto the intimidating warrior, and he took a deep breath, trying to ignore the warning signs from his body.

At that moment, Red also realized one simple thing he forgot. He doesn't have a weapon. Though fortunately, there's a lot of weapons lying around in the arena, even if they are not in their optimal condition. Without thinking further, he picked up a dagger the length of his arm. A length that he's used to wielding.

"Perfect," he thought to himself as he wielded the blade using a reverse grip.

Red took a deep breath, willing his legs not to shake as the warrior moved toward him with deliberate, heavy steps. He had no plan, no strategy—but he was quick, and if there was one thing he could rely on, it was his speed. His magic pulsed through him, but as the warrior approached, he realized how massive the gap in their power truly was.

He remembered the advice from an old mentor: "When facing someone clearly stronger, use your speed. Dodge their attacks and learn their strengths and weaknesses. Focus on what you can use, not just what you want to use."

Red had once questioned, "But what if I don't know how to use anything except the one thing I want to try?"

The mentor's response had been simple: "If that's the case, then figure out how to make it work. Because, at that point, that's all you have. If that also doesn't work, then run."

With a faint smile, Red reminded himself, "Always stick to the basics, no matter how tough the opponent."

His thoughts raced as he faced the massive foe, his determination unwavering despite the throbbing pain and daunting odds. He tightened his grip on the dagger, focusing on the battle ahead. "This isn't a war. It's a test, and there are no external interruptions. But that means I'm on my own too."

Red's resolve solidified as he locked eyes with the warrior. The elder's hand rose, signaling the start of the test.

"Begin."