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Argon Raze, the Sword Saint. Known throughout the Evaren continent as the best swordsman. His prowess with blades was unmatched. He had a streak of twenty five years of victory in duels. Drunk with his ability and bored with his superiority, he challenged every swordsman he crossed paths with to a duel and he won every single one of them.

His name seared terror into his opponents and his exploits thrilled his admirers. Kingdoms and nations had sought after his service but Argon Raze rejected all of their offers.

I do not wish to be tied to any affiliations. These offers are shackles and would cause stagnation to my abilities.

The Sword Saint had once said.

With this philosophy, he traveled through the whole continent and faced challenges of many and all kinds.

He reigned victorious against all of his adversaries, but that was until he met a certain young man.

He didn’t know the young man but his instincts told him the young man would give him a duel of his life.

And in a way, it was a duel of his life.

The young man was no mere swordsman. He was a Mage but he wielded a blade better than Argon himself, in addition to a dark spear. Overwhelmed by his unprecedented sword skills, spear art, and esoteric Magecraft, Argon finally faced his first loss ever since he held the title of Sword Saint, and it was also his only loss for the young man who had ended his life immediately. Argon’s last memories was of the young man bringing his Obsidian Steel spear through his chest.

What made Argon all the more intrigued was that the young man took claimed his head after he had ended his life. Whether he did it for a trophy or some other reasons, Argon would never know. He had lost and he was dead. This was the end of the infamous Sword Saint known as Argon Raze.

Although it was an untimely end, Argon was content…

… for the most parts at least.

There was one secret that he carried with him to his grave. Not even his closest of friends knew about this for he considered it to be his greatest shame.

He had died a virgin at the age of forty-six.

Yes, the great Sword Saint, Argon Raze was and still a virgin at his death.

At the end of his life, that was his sole regret. Victory and achievements do not come without sacrifices and the preservation of his chastity was his sacrifice for his title as the Sword Saint. His incessant days of honing his sword art had completely overshadowed his opportunity for any romantic affairs.

However, in spite of his regrets, he had never held any affections for all the women or girls he had met throughout his life. Sure, he met some of the most beautiful ladies but at most, it made his mind appreciate their beauty, it made his manhood throbbed, but it never did resonate with his heart. He was always curious about this aspect of his.

He once told himself he would never lay with a woman he didn’t have any heartfelt emotion for. But now, he realized it was just an excuse for his own cowardice towards interacting with women.

He didn’t wish to die a virgin. He wished he wasn’t so hesitant. He wished he knew the feel of a girl’s soft skin, their supple lips, and their delectable honeypot. Oh, how he wished to know what a girl would feel like in his embrace.

He cursed himself of his own ambivalent nature. He cursed it heartily and acutely as he felt his soul left the earthen soil and ascended to the heavens.

A bright and dazzling light consumed his vision.

It’s all too late, I guess.

He told himself as he let himself be swallowed by the brilliant radiance.

Oh, what I would give for the sake of knowing a woman’s touch at his point.

And then he heard a string of soft titters.

He didn’t know where it came from. He didn’t even know if it was real. He was dead. It could be just his memories and lamenting mind playing tricks on him.

The immense light eventually faded off.

Suddenly, he felt something solid beneath him. It was soil.

He blinked at his new surroundings.

Where am I?

Argon Raze asked himself as he remained seated on the ground, littered with dead leaves, in a “W” position. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but trees. Even though he didn’t recognize the location, he knew one thing— this wasn’t Evaren. He had pretty much been to all parts of the continent and Evaren had no such forest.

How could he tell? The collection of flora. They weren’t foreign nor peculiar to his knowledge but he had never seen these kinds of trees and plants in one place. It just wasn’t possible on Evaren. Therefore, he concluded, he was not in Evaren.

Perhaps it’s another continent or… another world? Ha ha ha…. what am I saying? Didn’t I die? How could I be in another continent?

There was no one here to answer his thoughts.

Is this heaven?

But it didn’t look like the heaven he knew from the countless literature he had read.

Or is this hell?

It was also a possibility but the atmosphere was nothing like hell. If anything, it was neutral. There was no smell of blood nor the remnants of suffering. It was certainly no grounds of despair. It was just a forest, he told himself.

Am I still alive somehow?

He questioned but there were no answers to be found anywhere.

As he began to move his body, he immediately stopped. Something felt wrong.

What the fuck?!

It was an immediate cause for concern. He was the Sword Saint. He knew his own body the best and the fact he was completely unfamiliar with what he was feeling right now, all of the panic alarms in his head went off.

He felt light. He tried moving his hands, wiggled his toes and stretched his neck, everything felt different than he was used too. He wasn’t just light, he realized, he was extremely light.

He looked at his arms. It was covered in some baggy sleeves. He was in some strange clothing, he realized. The fabric looked expensive even to someone like him that had no discerning eye for fabrics and textiles.

Heh?

When he pulled up his sleeves, he saw that his arm was as thin as a reed. There were no longer any muscles to these scrawny arms of his. And his skin too, was of pale whitish tone. His skin was supposed to be tanned, he remembered.

And what this itchy feeling I have behind me?

He had been feeling some odd irritation to his back ever since he was thrown into this forest by the dazzling lights. As he touched his back to get a feel of this mysterious irritation, his eyes widened.

Is this… hair?

It was long, he could feel it with his hand. It reached till his waist. His hair was short before, it didn’t even reach his neck. But now, it reached his waist.

And his hair was supposed to be dark brown not white!

That wasn’t even the worst part.

As his hand moved further down below, he felt a strange protrusion just above his rear. It was furry. He traced the furry protrusion with his hand.

What is this???

The protrusions were only getting wider in his palm as he traced further on.

He retracted his hand in a panic.

He attempted to stand up but due to the difference of the weight he was used to, his balance was thrown off. Although, he managed to keep his bearings and prevented himself from falling face first into the ground.

Why is my chest so heavy?

He asked himself as he looked down to his chest. Something was protruding from his chest. He didn’t realize it before since the robe he was wearing was quite baggy. Now that he was standing and the robe was accentuating his figure, he was introduced to a new set of plights.

What greeted his eyes was a pair of ample mounds.

B-breasts!!??

He cupped the twin mounds for confirmation, incurring a soft and high pitch moan from himself. He immediately pulled his hands back, horrified at the sound that was most likely his own.

What’s happened to me??!!

He screamed in his mind.

And then, a wave of information surged into his mind.

Erinthea - Forest-kin: Fox-kin

Level: 1 | Status: Healthy (Alive)

Might: 5 | Arcane: 10 | Finesse: 10

Magic Arts - Spirit Magic Lv. 1

Combat Arts - Sword Art Lv. 5

Innate Skills - Self-appraisal Lv. Ex, Night Vision Lv. Ex, Sixth Sense Lv. Ex, Toxin Resistance Lv. 1

What is all this… Are these my stats and information?

Although this was a novelty to Argon, he wasn’t completely unfamiliar with it. After all, this kind of setting was one of the famous pastime literatures in Evaren. Even the scholars took interest in this concept and there were numerous discussions of implementing it as a conventional magic into the Magecraft system, or at least that was the tale around the campfire.

Erinthea… that’s my name.… And I’m a…. Fox-kin!!??

As if it was instinctual, he touched the top of his head

No…

Sure enough, there was a pair of ears, a pair of fluffy fox ears.

And most importantly, his hand crept towards his underbelly. His shoulders trembled as his hand crept closer and closer to his destination.

And when his hand arrived at its destination. He hesitated to touch that certain spot but it was the only for him to know and accept the truth. And so, he went and touched it.

He frowned at the empty feel of his hand.

No…

All of his hope was shattered.

It was gone. The signature of a man was gone.

Now, it was without doubt what he had become. Thrown into the middle of some unfamiliar forest, with nothing but a some sort of robe to cover his body, he had become—

— a girl. And not just any girl, a fox girl.

“What the fuck!!??”

His screams pierce through the trees and as his ears stood straight and his tail wagged uncontrollably.