Extra: Yandere Milfs Obsessed with me!-Chapter 98: Kara’s Past

The entrance exam was simple in principle.

The students were transported into an artificial forest, populated with monsters. The most powerful among them reached super-rare level. There, the five hundred candidates had to fight, as best they could, to remain in the arena.

Hiding was not a viable option. A prolonged tactical retreat led to automatic elimination. In any case, the goal was not so much to "win" as to show oneself. The new students were like products on a market; they had to prove their worth, and then the factions would choose them, guaranteeing a better future.

A candidate was eliminated if they found themselves completely unable to fight, if they openly gave up, or if they faced an imminent danger they absolutely could not avoid.

...

*Point of view: Kara*

The continent of Arcadia was a harsh land, without any truly advanced civilization. There was no dominant empire nor central authority. The territory was fragmented among numerous tribes of demi-beasts, each defending its land, its resources and its honor. Conflicts were constant. Battles were frequent. Blood was part of everyday life, just like hunger or fear.

Despite the permanent chaos of Arcadia, my childhood had not been miserable. I was well fed, well trained and surrounded by my own people. My father was the chief of the tribe. He was respected, feared and followed by many warriors. His word was law. When he entered a council, silence fell naturally. For me, he embodied strength and I naively thought he would always be there.

My mother had died long ago, but I had never lacked affection. The elders watched over me, the warriors protected me, and my father prepared me to become a fighter worthy of our blood. Very early on, I learned to fight, to channel my aura, to recognize tracks in the forest and to survive alone for several days.

Our eternal enemies were the Lycans. Another tribe of demi-beasts, the closest to our lands. The clashes between our two clans had lasted for generations. They attacked our lands, we responded with reprisals. There was no lasting truce nor possible peace.

*Year 1542, continent of Arcadia.*

I was still young, but I was not weak. At twelve years old, I had already reached F+ rank. It was not exceptional for a demi-beast, but it was honorable for my age.

I had a rebellious temperament, a strong will, and an instinctive refusal to submit blindly. This annoyed some of the elders, but my father saw it as a quality.

The night mist was still thick when the warriors gathered on the esplanade. The clinking of the armed Kitsunes’ weapons replaced the singing of the birds.

My father, at their head, was adjusting his equipment. Such a departure was not rare.

He approached me, the smell of leather and cold iron preceding his embrace. His large, calloused hand rested on my skull, crushing my rebellious locks.

"The Lycans caused a massacre yesterday. We must respond fiercely."

I nodded: "Will you come back, father?"

He laughed: "Of course, this is not the first time, nor will it be the last." He ruffled my hair.

"That’s right, go kick their asses dad!"

"I won’t fail to. You know your father is the strongest."

I looked up. He was smiling, that smile that reassured the tribe.

"Be strong Kara. Keep your eyes open because after me it will be you who must lead our troops when I am too old."

But his ruby eyes, so similar to mine, were not smiling. They shone with a gravity that froze my blood. He had the look of someone who was going to face more than a pack of Lycans.

"Father..."

He shook his head, a tiny gesture. "Not now. Later. We will talk later."

His finger reached out to touch the tip of my ear, a gesture from our shared childhood. Then he turned on his heel.

Days passed, then weeks.

When he finally returned, it was not as a victorious chief, but as a staggering convalescent. They almost carried him to his hut. His bruised torso was covered in slashes everywhere, with purple wounds oozing yellowish pus.

"FATHER!"

"Eh... Kara, don’t worry, I’m fine."

"But... You..."

"I’ve survived worse, I’ll recover quickly."

He was breathing short, each breath becoming more and more difficult. Yet when the elders approached, he pushed away the arm supporting him and stood alone. His jaw was so clenched I thought I could hear his teeth grinding. The tribe was watching.

"Tribal chief, you were gravely wounded. I’m afraid you will not be able to launch the assault tomorrow."

"Of course I can!"

"Father!"

"Silence Kara! Many of our men perished to save me. What kind of chief would I be if I fled with my tail between my legs?"

It was then that my uncle emerged from the crowd.

"Brother," he said. He placed a hand on my father’s wounded shoulder, a supposedly brotherly gesture. I saw my father’s fingers contract in pain. "You exhausted your aura to the last drop to bring these warriors back. The tribe owes you a great debt. Rest. Let us keep watch."

That same evening, under the pretext of bringing a decoction for the fever, he entered the hut. I was curled up on an animal skin. My father was sitting, breathing hoarsely, eyes half-closed.

I knew my uncle hated the position my father held. But he had never done anything because my father was the strongest in the tribe and he did not have the support of the elders.

"Brother," Kael repeated, but the softness had left his voice.

My father raised his head. In his eyes there was no surprise. Only a terrible, tired lucidity.

"So, it’s now," he breathed.

He knew that the elders, seeing his condition, had already abandoned him in their calculations. He knew he could no longer fight. And he knew, above all, that with me, his twelve-year-old daughter with a frail aura, no one would allow me to take the reins of the tribe as tradition demanded in case of the chief’s disappearance. And more than respect for tradition, the Kitsunes wanted revenge.

In short, my father was killed because of me. Because of my existence, my young age, my inability to protect him or to inherit his title.

He did not answer. His arm moved, too fast.

The firelight reflected on the claws he had just plunged into my father’s throat.

"Fa..!!!"

I bit my tongue so hard that the taste of blood exploded in my mouth. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

’I must not let him know I’m here...’

The blood spread, just like the tears from my eyes.

*Sobs*

*Sobs*

I remained petrified, the world reduced to the red pool and my uncle’s impassive face.

"Finish the rest of the work, Loran." He said before leaving.

It was then that his son, my cousin with whom I had shared games and laughter, crossed the threshold. His eyes avoided my father’s body. They locked onto me. There was no conflict in him. Only docile determination.

"Sorry, Kara," he murmured. And his hand, already transformed, sharp claws extended, struck down on my side.