The forest trembled amid the thunder of artillery. The dark, twisted fairy tale burned fiercely in the demonic flames, while the wolf packs breeding in the shadows were torn apart and knocked down one after another. Pure violence forcibly ripped the entire area open. The lush trees were like fragile crops, cut down and plowed aside in the blink of an eye to create a broad avenue.
The squirrel stared blankly at everything. It was hiding in Little Red Riding Hood's hood, its body trembling violently. The soaring flames in the forest were reflected in its glossy black eyes, the sight seemingly melting the entire sky.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It had never been like this—
Scout, evade, relocate, hide, then evade again and continue relocating to the next Safe House. For many years, this had been the only way Little Red Riding Hood, who had fallen into the Black Forest, could survive. This malicious, dense forest never allowed its prey to do anything beyond the "rules," and those unfortunate prey had never possessed the power to resist those rules in the first place.
Nothing like this had ever happened—the prey was tearing the wolf pack apart with blood and fire, forcibly carving a path through the forest.
The squirrel no longer screamed. It merely stared blankly, as if its tiny brain could no longer bear the load. What was happening before its eyes had robbed it of the ability to think and judge.
Little Red Riding Hood was laughing. It was a happy, relaxed laugh unlike any she had ever shown before. When the wolves howled, fear still welled up from the depths of her heart. Yet the barrage of foxfire bullets sweeping across her vision, the Fox Carrot Missiles streaking through the sky, and