The Enslaved Demon Fox

Kurama smiled.

In such a perilous situation, where death lurked at every turn and his life was held in the hands of others—where a single wrong answer could mean a snapped throat—he suddenly seemed to completely relax the taut nerve he had been holding all along, smiling with an ease and composure that was almost unfathomable.

“So, it has indeed appeared.”

He murmured this with a light chuckle, the nine-tailed fox flicking his wrist with utter nonchalance.

Immediately, the golden-haired attacker behind him—just a moment ago towering with an air of unassailable authority, cloaked in a tone that, though seemingly elegant and humble, deeply concealed an unyielding command—suddenly had his pupils contract sharply. Driven by some unseen force, he swiftly retreated from behind the fox, leaping back a considerable distance before stabilizing himself with a strange buoyancy.

Kurama turned to face him and saw the man’s face marked by evident surprise and doubt, his eyes wide as he stared blankly at him...

The fox smiled again.

“What? You didn’t expect that not only had I anticipated your arrival, but I had also prepared traps and means to counter you?”

Meeting the gaze of the golden-haired attacker—the god of sleep Hypnos—whose features and figure were identical to the black-haired youth Kurama had previously designed to “capture,” except for the hollow six-pointed star on his forehead and the color of his hair and eyes, the fox blinked. The cold, aloof majesty of his stunningly handsome face softened with a smile, taking on an innocent, harmless air.

“Sorry to disappoint you. I am not the kind of... ‘foolish mortal’ you expected.”

“Everyone knows that, aside from the Underworld King Hades, the only high-ranking deities worth mentioning in the Underworld are the famed twin gods of Death and Sleep. Now, one of these twins came to block my path but was caught by me. Would the other... not come to assist?”

“And what kind of fool would, knowing reinforcements would arrive, as you Sleep God so hoped, leave no backup?”

As the golden-haired god of sleep Hypnos’s expression darkened little by little while listening to Kurama’s calmly spoken words, the fox’s smile remained, though inside he raised his alertness to the highest level.

His gamble—to risk worsening his own injuries and expend great effort to trap the death god Thanatos, all while striking a heavy blow to Hypnos’s pride with hidden strength veiled behind a mist—was a high-stakes bet.

Kurama was banking on Thanatos’s arrogance and overconfidence, and on Hypnos’s shared traits tempered by a sharper prudence.

With the former, he could temporarily “seal” Thanatos; with the latter...

“...Your terms.”

—See?

With the latter, Kurama could gain a bargaining chip equal to, or even surpassing, Hypnos.

“Indeed, worthy of the unmatched wit of the great Sleep God.”

—A little sweetener after passing the baton, since his injuries hadn’t healed and he was still somewhat at their mercy; true to Kurama’s style, he wouldn’t push things too far.

Smiling, he flicked his fingers, causing the eerie purple vines stretching from beneath his feet to Hypnos to swiftly retract. He spread his hands to show goodwill and harmless intent:

“Please don’t worry that I will make any excessive demands of the Twelve Continents. As a mere mortal unfortunate enough to stray into the Underworld, my only request is this: please send me back to the world where mortals belong.”

Such a “small request,” compared to the threatened Thanatos and the currently imperiled Hypnos, seemed a perfectly reasonable demand.

Yet, after a long silence, Hypnos suddenly let out a low, mirthful laugh.

“If it had been a few months ago, granting you that request wouldn’t have been difficult.”

Though forced into submission, the god’s pride would not allow Hypnos to appear weak even in words.

The golden-haired deity stood tall and proud, his gaze toward Kurama deep with scrutiny and curiosity.

“But now, at King Hades’s command, the Underworld is sealed. Except for a chosen few Underworld warriors blessed with his cosmic power, none may leave the Underworld to enter the living world.”

“Though Thanatos and I are the highest under the King, we can only guarantee our own freedom of passage. Bestowing this ability on others is beyond us.”

“And you... knowing full well who Thanatos and I are, still claim to have stumbled into the Underworld by accident. Do you think I would believe such an excuse?”

Suddenly shifting tone, noticing Kurama’s subtle change in expression, the most cunning of gods softened his voice, making his already enchanting tone even more intoxicating:

“Yet, for a mortal, your abilities are indeed quite intriguing.”

“How about it? Abandon that little girl Athena—who only whines and hides behind others, fooling a bunch of fools into serving her under the pretense of justice and love—and instead join under King Hades’s command?”

“I believe Lord Hades would be very interested in your abilities...”

Before he finished speaking, Hypnos suddenly leapt back several hundred meters. At his original spot, a row of massive black spikes shimmered with a sinister glow, silently bursting from beneath the ground, piercing a large hole through the earth...

“Hmph. Do you really think I would believe your words just because you said them, Sleep God?”

Kurama shook his head with a light laugh, not pressing the advantage to attack further.

“Though it sounds convincing, who doesn’t know Hypnos, god of sleep, is the master of scheming, deception, and manipulation?”

“Therefore, I don’t believe a single word of what you just said.”

“Unless...”

—You can produce sufficiently credible evidence.

Kurama’s smile didn’t waver as he looked into Hypnos’s radiant golden eyes, where a flash of killing intent and vexation briefly surfaced. Yet, he paid no heed to these emotions.

After all, he was bound to leave the Underworld sooner or later; what did it matter if a few Sleep Gods bore grudges?

At worst, he would take Mokona and the two snow rabbits and settle somewhere neither Greek nor Japanese—surely these busy gods embroiled in holy wars wouldn’t bother hunting him down...

Thinking of Mokona, the fox’s smile faded.

“Well? Sleep God?”

Originally intending to take things slowly, but now with the urgent task of finding Mokona pressing heavily on him, Kurama lowered his voice, his expression turning cold and indifferent once more.

“So, your answer... is still the same as before?”

Hypnos stared coldly without speaking.

In truth, he had not completely lied before. He was probing whether this oddly attired mysterious intruder truly possessed the power to trap Thanatos, a high-ranking deity, for so long, and simultaneously gauging his true nature.

He hadn’t expected the drastic shifts in attitude from this fox. The slight delay had thoroughly exhausted his patience...

Feigning anger and silence on the surface, Hypnos’s mind was racing, rapidly analyzing and speculating based on the scant clues and information he had just received.

So outwardly, it seemed the Sleep God was silently annoyed, refusing to entertain Kurama’s probing.

Observing this, Kurama raised an eyebrow but did not press further.

To cloud Hypnos’s judgment, though he had returned to his fox form, Kurama deftly retracted the fox ears and tails that would have otherwise been visible.

Though uncomfortable for himself, extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures. In a fantasy world where shouting “transform” summoned fully armed battle garments from boxes, the ability to assume two distinct appearances was not unusual—what was unusual was that one was non-human.

Kurama wished to avoid unnecessary entanglements with the gods of death and sleep in the Underworld. Anything that might pique their curiosity or suspicion had to be eliminated beforehand.

The conflict with the twin gods was inevitable, so revealing his powers was expected, but beyond that, the fox intended to reveal nothing more.

After all, this was a world where true gods existed.

Though Kurama was not afraid of these lofty deities, until he found Mokona, he wished to avoid stirring trouble.

His entire focus was on retrieving his white fluffball as soon as possible, thus his actions were far more cautious than before.

So, as Hypnos sat there with a cold face playing the silent game, Kurama did not immediately intensify his pressure. After all, he could still keep Thanatos trapped for a good while longer. He trusted that before his limit was reached, this calculating god would come up with a satisfactory answer.

Thus, the two remained in tense silence.

Long minutes passed. Seeing the increasingly impatient expression Kurama deliberately wore, Hypnos furrowed his brow slightly, about to speak...

“Hypnos.”

A deep, majestic male voice filled with fathomless deathly aura suddenly resounded through the air—a weightier, more soul-stirring presence than the profound deathly pressure Kurama had once felt from Thanatos’s eyes.

It seemed to drift from a distant horizon, yet also whispered close to Kurama and Hypnos’s ears.

With this voice came a sudden shift in the Underworld’s entrance atmosphere—from the fiery, lava-like scorching heat to a cold, deathly chill.

“Bring him to my palace.”

“That is not the ‘studio,’ but my true palace.”

At this, Hypnos abruptly lifted his head...