The villages trembled beneath the terror of Glycon, the eight-headed serpent god. His escape from the storm god's wrath had cost him nearly everything, yet he retained enough strength to continue his torment of the mortal realm, albeit in an entirely different universe, he wasn't very picky though. Different world or not, mortals were mortals.
Mount Zekra had become his throne, and from its heights, his demands thundered down to the six villages below.
"So you seek my aid, hmm?" Arsene tilted her head, her eight tails sweeping in a rhythmic arc behind her. She was an impressive figure, standing on the outskirts of the largest village, with foxfire glowing faintly around her.
"They say Lord Glycon himself rules from that mountain top," one of the elders murmured, his voice heavy with both reverence and fear. "No one else can help us."
" 'Lord Glycon' you say, is it a real god this time? Mmmm, this could prove to be a bit… exciting," Arsene purred, her words stretching lazily as she turned her gleaming eyes up toward the mountain.
The villagers looked at her in awe, and for good reason. Arsene wasn't just some random woman; she was an eight-tailed shrine maiden, the last- or well only hope for villages beaten down by the serpent's tyranny, you see, Arsene's services were quite cheap. She accepted requests for a low price simply because she was quite fond of fighting.
"So you want me to go up there and risk my life… because a few snake heads said 'do this' or 'do that?' Mmmm, well," she drawled, a glint of mischief in her gaze, "for a price, I suppose I might be convinced."
They fell to their knees, pleading and swearing all they had. Arsene chuckled, a low sound that rippled through the crowd, sparking a flicker of hope.
"All right, all right," she sighed,"I suppose I could bestow my grace to you all",
"but I expect offerings. Bring me your finest alcohol and something to snack on while I plan my attack on Mister Eight-Heads up there."
For the next two months, Arsene launched assault after assault on Glycon's mountain lair, using every ounce of her cunning and magic to match his strength, a tactic she called 'All' fair in guerilla warfare'. Each day, the mountain shook with their battle, and when she returned to the villages, bruised and worn, her spirit remained as unbroken as ever.
One evening, after a particularly fierce battle, she descended into the village square, her breathing labored.
"Another win," she murmured, eyes closed as she settled onto the steps of the shrine. "One step closer… and then I'll be rid of that overgrown worm."
An elder approached with a bowl of sake, his hands trembling. "We are in awe of your strength, Lady Arsene."
"Mmm, I know, I'm quite great," she replied, taking a slow, languid sip. She seemed calm, but her voice held an edge of weariness. "Wine tastes sweeter after victory."
The villagers watched her as she drifted into sleep, her form curled at the shrine steps, guarded by a light of her own foxfire. Yet while she rested, Glycon's whispers found their way into the villagers' minds. Promises of peace, whispered in the dead of night. Tempting visions of homes untouched, children safe, lives spared from endless war.
When Arsene awoke, a strange feeling nagged at her. The villagers greeted her with hushed words, bringing her food with downcast eyes. She raised a brow, tilting her head with suspicion.
"Ohhh? What's this now?" she asked, drawing out her words as her sharp gaze settled on the elder. "Did you all finally learn to keep your complaints with my method to a whisper?"
The elder shifted uncomfortably, but he kept his head bowed. Arsine smirked and took a bite of the meal they had prepared.
"Mmm, seems you finally followed instructions," she murmured, savoring the food. But suddenly, a wave of dizziness overtook her. She dropped the bowl, clutching her head.
"Wh-what have you… done to me?" Her voice was thick with venom as she stumbled to her feet, her vision blurring.
The villagers moved swiftly, ropes in hand. She thrashed, but her strength was slipping. Panic began to bleed into her voice, yet she couldn't help the mocking tone that crept into her words.
"Selling out your own protector, Eh?" She laughed, bitter and wild. "Ohhhh, I see how it is. Cowards, the lot of you. Can't even face me head-on, so that stupid worm gave you his venom, hmm?"
The elder, wracked with guilt yet driven by fear, murmured an apology she neither heard nor cared as she was already plotting her revenge. They dragged her bound form up the mountain, her voice echoing in enraged, slurred taunts.
As they laid her broken body before Glycor, he laughed, his voices echoing from each head.
"Ahhhh, look at you now, little fox," he sneered, his heads crowding close. "A mere morsel. Any last words, Arsene, or do you go by supper now?"
Her lips parted, a flicker of her once-mischievous smirk playing across her face. "You… reallyyyyy think this is the end don't you?" Her voice wavered, but the venom was unmistakable.
Without another word, he devoured her, "Yes, as a matter of fact I do know this is the end".
He said upon swallowing her whole.
The great serpent thought his victory was complete—that was until a searing pain burned from his belly, spreading like wildfire.
Inside his dark, twisted gut, Arsene grinned, feeling her spirit meld with his, venomous and unstoppable.
"Ohhh my dearest Lord Glycon," her voice slithered through his consciousness, a deadly lullaby. "Surely you didn't forget to check your meal for poison?My my, Now you'll never be free of me. Ever."
Her blood ignited in a curse of vengeance, mingling her form with his, dissolving his essence as she took control, body and soul fusing in fury. With one last, agonizing scream, Glycon's heads crumbled to ash, and when the transformation was complete, Arsene emerged. Her figure was monstrous, the lower body of the serpent god fused with her own, a newly emerged ninth tail gleaming with a dark, otherworldly power.
She was reborn as a completely new entity.
And with this new found power, she descended upon each of the six villages. Her laughter echoing in the air as she tore through their defenses, her voice slithering like poison into the ears of those who had betrayed her.
"You thought you'd be safe? That I'd let this slight go unpunished???"
Each village chief lost an arm in her vengeance, a price for their betrayal. She spared no one, not man woman nor child, not plant, pest nor cattle, and when the last village lay in ruins, Arsene ascended once more to Mount Zekra, her tails swirling around her like a storm. She left the mountain wreathed in curses, a place where no mortal dared tread again, for it was now a sacred, cursed place, marked by the fury of a fox once betrayed.
"I guess I'll need a new name for whatever the hell it is am now." She hummed to no one but herself and the ruins left in her wake.