"Who says you aren’t powerful?"
She said it without hesitation, her expression suddenly serious, all traces of bratty arrogance gone.
The weight behind her words made me freeze.
It was... a compliment. A genuine one, maybe. And it threw me off more than any insult ever could.
Did I have the potential to be powerful? Sure. With my innate skills, with time and training, maybe one day I could stand tall. But right now? No. Right now, I was barely holding myself together.
Her mother was powerful. The Alpha Deer was powerful. Those were creatures that made the ground tremble just by existing, monsters that bent the world around them with sheer presence.
But Eli Cross, the goblin?
I was still a work in progress. A cracked blade that hadn’t yet been reforged.
I drew in a shaky breath and forced myself to respond, my voice low and rough. "You saw how easily your mother manhandled me. I’m not powerful."
"For your level, you are. And besides, the reason for my choice doesn’t matter anymore. Just be glad I chose you. Because if I didn’t, my mother would have killed you."
I stared at her, and for once, I couldn’t argue. Yep... one hundred percent true.
No doubt about it—her choice had saved my life.
I should have been grateful. Really, I should. Because when death is the alternative, does the other option even matter? Survival is survival. And yet, a part of me still gnawed at the edges of that thought. Whether this "bond" was salvation or a trap would depend entirely on what it truly meant.
The fox’s tails flicked, and she added smugly, "I chose you out of goodwill. Be grateful, goblin."
Yeah, yeah. Easy for her to say.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to respond without snapping. "I appreciate your help, really," I said, keeping my voice steady even though the irritation still burned in my chest. "But if I’m supposed to come to terms with... whatever this is between us, then I need to understand it in detail. What does being bound actually mean?"
I asked the question, my words hanging in the air.
The ember fox didn’t answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head, her tails flicking in slow, idle movements while her molten eyes seemed to narrow in thought. For once, she looked almost serious, as if weighing how much she should reveal.
Then her voice pressed into my mind again. "Alright. In simple terms... our lives are now linked. If you die, I die. And if I die... well, you die too."
I blinked at her, my jaw slack.
Okay. Sure. That’s not terrifying at all. That’s not a massive, world-shaking revelation that’s definitely not going to come back and bite me in the future. Totally fine. Nothing to see here.
"Okay..." I said slowly, dragging the word out as my brain tried and failed to make peace with it. "Anything else?"
Her ears twitched. "Nothing really. That’s basically it."
I stared at her. Hard. "Seriously?"
Her tails curled, and if a telepathic voice could sound smug, hers did.
"You want there to be more?"
"No," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I just thought this bond thing would be all bad for me."
"Hmph." The fox sniffed, her tails flicking as though I’d just insulted her. "If anything, it’s worse for me. You’re still weak, and now I have to make sure you don’t die."
Weak? Really? I narrowed my eyes, biting back the urge to laugh. "Weak? You’re the one who nearly got packed into a snack by a badger."
Her ears twitched, and for a moment I thought I saw her glare sharpen—but she didn’t dignify that jab with a reply.
I pressed on. "Look, no one asked you to pick me. And for the record, protecting you isn’t going to be easy either. I’m a goblin with... let’s just say, a lot of responsibilities. Adding ’fox babysitter’ to the list doesn’t exactly help."
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes glinting like coals. "Well, all I need from you is to stay alive. Do that, and we’ll be fine."
"Sounds easy enough," I said aloud, though my chest tightened even as the words left my mouth. Easy? Not even close. Staying alive had already proven to be a full-time job.
The fox suddenly perked up, her ears flicking as if a thought had just struck her. "Oh... right." Her voice carried a sly note, almost playful. "I forgot to mention. I can also give you some of my power... and take some of yours as well."
I froze, my stomach sinking.
Of course. Because sharing life and death wasn’t complicated enough already.
"Power?" I pressed, my brows knitting together. "Be specific. What do you mean by that?"
"Like mana and such," she replied curtly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Mana and what?" I frowned, leaning forward slightly, but she only flicked her tails and brushed it off with casual indifference.
"No need to panic. With the miserable, polluted amount you’re carrying, I wouldn’t even consider taking any from you."
"Thank you," I muttered, the words coming out sharper than I intended.
That was no compliment, and I knew it—but honestly? I’d take it. Better to be insulted than drained dry by a fox cub with an attitude problem. At least I wasn’t in immediate danger of being used like some walking mana-battery.
Before I could press further, a harsh cough cut through the tension.
I turned my head and saw Flogga at the front of the group.
Her eyes, sharp and clouded with worry, were fixed squarely on me.
"Hm, Totem," she said carefully. "You’ve been speaking to it for a while now. Anything we should be worried about?"
"No," I answered quickly, forcing a steady tone even though my nerves were frayed raw. "It’s all good."
Judging by her face, she didn’t believe me. Not one bit.