Chapter 1512 (1/2)

“Demonstrate your image,” The assistant overseer repeated sternly, faced with Raymund’s rather blank faced confusion. It was clear from their expressions that the three overseers were supremely unimpressed with his nonresponsiveness.

There were two things that confused Raymund about the current situation. The first was that, after the recruits finished their required twenty laps and wanted nothing more than to collapse into a degenerative stew of sweat and muscle fibers, they were brought into an underground complex below the training area that seemed just as extensive as the facilities on the surface. There, he was directed to a small training room where three unfamiliar assistant overseers were waiting at a wooden table. They each held clipboards.

They wanted him to demonstrate his image. That fact barely managed to penetrate through his bleary confusion to reach his consciousness.

But the second source of confusion was that the formation on the surface didn’t affect this area at all. Raymund’s body was once more his own to recover naturally and move. After using his image constantly for almost twenty-four hours, the shift back to being able to physically move was so pleasurable that it felt like Raymund’s every movement was buoyed by a comforting layer of clouds.

“Ah… yes.” Raymund blinked. Then he tried his best to focus. His mind was still exhausted from what he had endured in this first day of training, but the lack of the physical suppression filled him with a strange sense of calm. His numb body because the perfect vessel to house a consciousness focused upon his image. He could manage this amount of pressure with ease.

Gradually, the lids over Raymund’s eyes sank downward. His world became a rich darkness. It was his canvas for creation. He long claws flexed slowly outward, like an orange tabby luxuriously waking up from a nap in a pool of sunlight.

The first detail he conjured was the fur of the nine-tailed fox. Here was one of the smallest but the most important details to create a cohesive image. The base of each hair was a pale white, but toward the edges, it faded to a deep maroon. As the nine-tailed fox sat in darkness, it meant that the godly figure seemed to bleed directly into the surrounding world. It was a monster that existed as a natural part of the world, the grandest wound that existence had ever experienced.

Those hairs spread outward, being a part of an absolutely massive body. Each hair was as tall as the highest tree in the greatest forest. And to the nine-tailed fox, those were simply one of a million hairs that covered its body. The nine-tailed fox was like the sky or the wind. It was simply a natural presence that persisted, even as other factors around it rose and fell.

Next came the shape. Raymund and his people were bipedal, but the nine-tailed fox was a true fox: It sat on its haunches calmly, its forelegs keeping its body in an upright and dignified position. In the theology of Raymund's world, all of his people originally walked around on all fours and possessed nine tails. But the first fox, Fiero, came across a tumbling water monkey that was hanging from a tree and savoring a fat strand of grapes. The water monkey saw Fiero's nine lucious tails and was deeply jealous. So with some clever words and a dramatic feast that it made of the grapes, the water monkey convinced Fiero trade one of his tails in exchange for the knowledge of how to walk on two legs and use his hands to eat grapes.

The Chronicles of Fiero were honestly rather depressing for Raymund. It detailed all nine of the petty reasons that Fiero was convinced to part with his tails, the ultimate symbols of respecting the natural order of existence. As a foxman who was born with two tails, Raymund was considered rather special; most of his people were only born with a single tail in the modern era.

Until Techetadore, who was born with six glorious tails. Raymund’s brother changed everything, even from the beginning.

A frown crossed Raymund's face. His image wavered slightly. He berated himself and then concentrated on strengthening his dedication to his image. Even if there was no array pressuring him currently, that didn't mean all of the exhaustion of the past day had been magically healed. He couldn't afford to let himself be distracted by any ancillary information at the moment.

So Raymund forced himself to concentrate solely on his image. His exhausted mind swept away the distractions and settled once more on the nine-tailed fox. From the sitting fox with the brilliantly shaded fur, all nine tails spread outward in the surrounding air like pure rays of light from the sun. There were some subtle curves in each of the tails, but those soft details were practically invisible between the maroon furr and the deep darkness of the backdrop.

At the center of this bouquet of tails, Raymund's nine-tailed fox sat with its eyes closed, seemingly completely inert. Rather than a true biological monster, this was a natural presence in the world. Its influence gradually spread to the surrounding space, weighing heavily on the surroundings. Its snout was long and regal. An invisible halo of superiority radiated outward from the immaculate creature that Raymund conjured.

When all the details were assembled, they seemed to blend together and form a near-perfect whole. Despite the earlier distraction, this was one of the better complete nine-tailed foxes that Raymund had ever managed. He felt a flush of pride in his chest.

Releasing a breath, Raymund opened his eyes. The three assistant overseers looked at him, as though just noticing that he had been fulfilling their request while he stood with his eyes closed. The central figure, a squat man with bat wings, blinked. ”Oh, are you finished?”

Raymund opened his mouth, but couldn't decide what he wanted to say to that. The fact that the assistant overseer had even asked the question...

When Raymund didn't answer, the assistant overseers seemed to take that as assent and began to take furious notes on their papers. They alternated between grimacing at the image that Raymund created, writing down some sort of observations, and then glancing meaningfully at each other's notes and nodding in agreement.

Eventually, bat-wings cleared his throat. ”Alright, that's enough of that for now. I think we basically understand your image. Now, we have a few more things to investigate while we design your personal training regimen. Feel free to think deeply about your answers; when you are done here, you will be going back up to the surface immediately to continue your training. How do you intend to improve your image?”

”I-” Raymund blinked at the abrupt question. Still, his gaze quickly brightened. A few days ago, he would not have been able to articulate how he wanted to improve his image. But after being completely drained and then refreshed by the wave of warm energy from the bell, Raymund began to sense a few methods that would allow his nine-tailed fox to be even more powerful. ”I want to be able to visualize the great nine-tailed fox as part of the natural world. Almost as if... the tails of the fox were the world's rivers, its spine was the great mountain range, things like that.”

”Display your most powerful attack,” Bat-wing announced, glancing at one of the fellow assistant overseers and not even bothering with the barest acknowledgment of Raymund's answer. ”Sevet will be receiving your attack. And don't flatter yourself: there is absolutely no chance that someone like you could threaten Sevet.”

”...alright then,” Raymund bit back his irritation and attempted to keep his mind focused. He rolled his shoulders and his eyes flashed as the image of the nine-tailed fox behind him pulsed with power. He opened his mouth and roared, while a spectral projection of an enormous fox head rushed forward to rip into the waiting Sevet. Sevet raised a small hatchet and briefly pulsed with a massive image that Raymund was barely able to sense before he had smashed aside the attack.

Congratulations! Your Skill Furious Bite (Un) has grown to Level 279!

”Hmmm.” Bat-wing made a few more notes. ”What would you say is the dominant emotion of your image?”

Raymund frowned, still somewhat disappointed that his attack had been so readily dealt with. But it seemed clear that these individuals were veterans of actual fighting against Nether, so Raymund tried to console himself with that information. Yet beyond the fact that his attack had been easily neutralized, a rather unexpected question was waiting. ”What do you mean, dominant emotion...?”

”Hmmm.” All of the assistant overseers hummed in unison this time. Somehow, Raymund felt like he had failed a test that he hadn't been told he would be taking.

Bat-wing frowned down at his notes, not even looking at the awkward feeling foxman. ”What would you consider to be the primary motivation of your image?”