[The Unlucky Game Master]

Arc 8.3

The rain patters outside the door in an eery symphony, with only the flickers from candles illuminating the cottage.

In darkness the man paints, his fingers shaking every stroke.

Fear permeates him, but his eyes only show frigidity.

Whispers sound around the cottage, children, men, women, but none dare move closer.

A full moon is clear in the sky, but no light emits.

It shines with a beautiful dull silvery sheen.

Such beauty......

Once a month the Shangyang birds powers converge causing such a phenomenon.

He's toying with the man, unlike all the others.

A cold light flickers in the small foxes ice blue eyes.

From a young age the man was chosen by his village to dwell in the cottage under the pretense of banishment.

Their object of worship......as well as fear.

Within a month it would satiate it's thirsts, but it's been in slumber since it first saw the man.

Waiting patiently, but was triggered by him setting fire to the village in his memories.

He's long known how tempting his soul match partners soul is, but it's completetly defenseless and holds no practical value.

He's evidently delved into many things.

He tried twice to separate and study the chaotic energies, but it would damage the soul and he decisively gave up.

He's no longer ignorant and has many ways to aquire the energies.

The rooms temperature fluctuates when the man tries to push the fox off his lap in discomfort with one hand without removing his eyes from the easel.

He's not annoyed at the fox, but he feels an uneasiness and wants to be alone in his anxiety.

His hair stands on end, taking a deep breath and tremblingly holds the fox closer while dropping his brush.

He felt like he was being watched.

He silently holds the fox while suppressing his fear and emotions.

The mans drawings are affected by what he senses, but never fully understood.

He languidly licks the man in appeasement and satisfaction.

The mans fragile body holds minor scars, evidently from past nights.

His drawings themselves attract unwanted attention.

His ears stand erect as the whispers disappear, looking towards the only window of the cottage.

The night passes with him staring at the window in the arms of the quiet man who involuntarily fell asleep and the candles flickering, only leaving shadows.

He brushes his tail against the man and nips his lips lightly while playfully sweeping against him, leaving only his scent heavily on him, marking him as his.

A provocation undoubtly.

He already can't leave this forest, but he can at least protect his soul before death.

He shouldn't have succeeded so easily.