The Fox And The Last Dragon Novel – Agent Ashwood, Field Report Kane’s fingers trembled as he fumbled with his phone, smearing blood across the screen. He propped himself against the damp alley wall, one ear swiveling to catch any approaching footsteps while the other lay flat against his head, torn and bleeding. “Agent Ashwood, field report,” he wheezed, his usual confident voice reduced to a rasp. “Found the warehouse. The trafficking operation is bigger than we thought.” He winced, shifting his weight as a bolt of pain shot through his ribs. “The spirits—they’re keeping them in warded cages.
Magic suppressants. Some kind of… experimental tech.” Kane coughed, spitting blood onto the pavement. A distant siren wailed. Kane’s eyes darted toward the sound, pupils contracting to thin slits. “Someone with serious connections is backing this.” The distant sound of footsteps made his tail bristle. Kane lowered his voice. “All evidence points to Veyr Corp.” Kane dragged himself upright, tucking his phone away. The warehouse loomed ahead, a hulking shadow against the night sky. Every instinct screamed for retreat, but the caged spirits inside needed him.
He slipped through a broken window, landing in a silent crouch despite his injuries. The warehouse interior stretched vast and cavernous, moonlight filtering through holes in the ceiling to illuminate rows of metal cages. Inside each, spectral forms huddled—forest sprites, minor water elementals, even what looked like a young thunder spirit crackling weakly against its bonds. “Hang on,” Kane whispered, creeping forward. “I’ll get you out.” The air shifted. Something ancient and wrong permeated the space—a scent like rotting flowers and ozone. Kane froze, ears swiveling.
The rogue materialized from shadows twenty feet ahead—once perhaps a mountain spirit, now corrupted beyond recognition. Its body stretched and contorted, rock-like protrusions jutting from leathery skin. Eyes—too many eyes—blinked open across its torso. “Bureau rat,” it growled, voice like grinding stone. “Came to spoil our collection.” Kane drew his gun, backing toward a stack of crates. “Just taking back what isn’t yours.” The monster lunged with impossible speed. Kane fired twice, spirit bullets sparking against its hide before he dove behind the crates.
The rogue smashed through them like tissue paper, sending splinters flying. Kane scrambled up a metal staircase, buying seconds. His mind raced—this thing was too strong for a direct fight. He spotted an overhead crane system, rusted chains dangling. The rogue clambered after him, concrete cracking beneath its weight. Kane holstered his gun and leapt for the chains, swinging across the warehouse floor. Pain lanced through his ribs. “Clever fox,” the monster hissed, leaping to intercept. Kane released the chain, dropping onto a catwalk.
The metal groaned beneath him. The rogue landed behind him, the entire structure bending. “No place to run now.” Kane backed away, tail brushing against an electrical panel. He glanced back—ancient wiring, exposed connections. The rogue charged. Kane waited until the last possible second before diving aside. The monster crashed into the panel, electricity arcing across its body. But instead of falling, it absorbed the power, growing larger as the warehouse plunged into darkness. “Thanks for the boost,” it rumbled, now towering over Kane.
The rogue’s body crackled with stolen electricity, veins of blue light pulsing beneath its stony hide. “Of course it feeds on energy, you idiot…” muttered Kane to himself. Kane barely had time to register his mistake befor